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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9367-8.txt b/9367-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3cfd7ea --- /dev/null +++ b/9367-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8082 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Meadow Grass, by Alice Brown + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Meadow Grass + +Author: Alice Brown + + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9367] +This file was first posted on September 25, 2003] +Last updated: May 23, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEADOW GRASS *** + + + + +Produced by A. Templeton, J. Sutherland, T. Allen and the +PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + +MEADOW-GRASS + +TALES OF NEW ENGLAND LIFE + +By Alice Brown + + +1895 + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS. + + +NUMBER FIVE + +FARMER ELI'S VACATION + +AFTER ALL + +TOLD IN THE POORHOUSE + +HEMAN'S MA + +HEARTSEASE + +MIS' WADLEIGH'S GUEST + +A RIGHTEOUS BARGAIN + +JOINT OWNERS IN SPAIN + +AT SUDLEIGH FAIR + +BANKRUPT + +NANCY BOYD'S LAST SERMON + +STROLLERS IN TIVERTON + + + + +TO M.G.R. + + + + +LOVER OF WOODS AND FIELD AND SEA. + + + + +NUMBER FIVE. + + +We who are Tiverton born, though false ambition may have ridden us to +market, or the world's voice incited us to kindred clamoring, have a +way of shutting our eyes, now and then, to present changes, and seeing +things as they were once, as they are still, in a certain sleepy yet +altogether individual corner of country life. And especially do we +delight in one bit of fine mental tracery, etched carelessly, yet for +all time, so far as our own' short span is concerned, by the unerring +stylus of youth: the outline of a little red schoolhouse, distinguished +from the other similar structures within Tiverton bounds by "District +No. V.," painted on a shingle, in primitive black letters, and nailed +aloft over the door. Up to the very hollow which made its playground +and weedy garden, the road was elm-bordered and lined with fair +meadows, skirted in the background by shadowy pines, so soft they did +not even wave; they only seemed to breathe. The treasures of the road! +On either side, the way was plumed and paved with beauties so rare that +now, disheartened dwellers in city streets, we covetously con over in +memory that roaming walk to school and home again. We know it now for +what it was, a daily progress of delight. We see again the old +watering-trough, decayed into the mellow loveliness of gray lichen and +greenest moss. Here beside the ditch whence the water flowed, grew the +pale forget-me-not and sticky star-blossomed cleavers. A step farther, +beyond the nook where the spring bubbled first, were the riches of the +common roadway; and over the gray, lichen-bearded fence, the growth of +stubbly upland pasture. Everywhere, in road and pasture too, thronged +milkweed, odorous haunt of the bee and those frailest butterflies of +the year, born of one family with drifting blossoms; and straightly +tall, the solitary mullein, dust-covered but crowned with a gold softer +and more to be desired than the pride of kings. Perhaps the carriage +folk from the outer world, who sometimes penetrate Tiverton's leafy +quiet, may wonder at the queer little enclosures of sticks and pebbles +on many a bare, tree-shaded slope along the road. "Left there from some +game!" they say to one another, and drive on, satisfied. But these are +no mere discarded playthings, dear ignorant travellers! They are tokens +of the mimic earnest with which child-life is ever seeking to sober +itself, and rushing unsummoned into the workaday fields of an aimlessly +frantic world. They are houses, and the stone boundaries are walls. +This tree stump is an armchair, this board a velvet sofa. Not more +truly is "this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog." + +Across the road, at easy running distance from the schoolhouse at +noontime or recess, crawled the little river, with its inevitable +"hole," which each mother's son was warned to avoid in swimming, lest +he be seized with cramp there where the pool was bottomless. What eerie +wonders lurked within the mirror of those shallow brown waters! Long +black hairs cleaved and clung in their limpid flowing. To this day, I +know not whether they were horse-hairs, far from home, or swaying +willow roots; the boys said they were "truly" hairs of the kind +destined to become snakes in their last estate; and the girls, +listening, shivered with all Mother Eve's premonitory thrill along the +backbone. Wish-bugs, too, were here, skimming and darting. The +peculiarity of a wish-bug is that he will bestow upon you your heart's +desire, if only you hold him in the hand and wish. But the impossible +premise defeats the conclusion. You never do hold him long enough, +simply because you can't catch him in the first place. Yet the +fascinating possibility is like a taste for drink, or the glamour of +cards. Does the committee-man drive past to Sudleigh market, suggesting +the prospect of a leisurely return that afternoon, and consequent +dropping in to hear the geography class? Then do the laziest and most +optimistic boys betake them hastily from their dinner-pails to the +river, and spend their precious nooning in quest of the potent bug, +through whose spell the unwelcome visit may be averted. The time so +squandered in riotous gaming might have, fixed the afternoon's "North +Poles and Equators" triumphantly in mind, to the everlasting defiance +of all alien questioning; but no! for human delight lies ever in the +unattainable. The committee-man comes like Nemesis, _aequo pede_, the +lesson is unlearned, and the stern-fibred little teacher orders out the +rack known as staying after school. But what durance beyond hours in +the indescribably desolate schoolroom ever taught mortal boy to shun +the delusive insect created for his special undoing? So long as the +heart has woes of its own breeding, so long also will it dodge the +discipline of labor, and grasp at the flicker of an easy success. + +On either side the little bridge (over which horses pounded with an +ominous thunder and a rain of dust on the head of him who lingered +beneath the sleepers, in a fearsome joy), the meadows were pranked with +purple iris and whispering rushes, mingling each its sweetness with the +good, rank smell of mud below. Here were the treasures of the +water-course, close hidden, or blowing in the light of day. The pale, +golden-hearted arrow-head neighbored the homespun pickerel-weed, +and--oh, mysterious glory from an oozy bed!--luscious, sun-golden +cow-lilies rose sturdily triumphant, dripping with color, glowing in +sheen. The button-bush hung out her balls, and white alder painted the +air with faint perfume; willow-herb built her bowery arches, and the +flags were ever glancing like swords of roistering knights. These +flags, be it known to such as have grown up in grievous ignorance of +the lore inseparable from "deestrick school," hold the most practical +significance in the mind of boy and girl; for they bring forth (I know +we thought for our delight alone!) a delicacy known as flag-buds, +everlastingly dear to the childish palate. These were devoured by the +wholesale in their season, and little mouths grew oozy-green as those +of happy beasties in June, from much champing and chewing. Did we lose +our appetite for the delectable dinner-pail through such literal going +to pasture? I think not. Tastes were elastic, in those days; and +Nature, so bullied, durst seldom revolt. + +On one side, the nearest neighbor to the school lived at least a mile +away; but on the other, the first house of all owned treasures manifold +for the little squad who, though the day were wet or dry, fair or +frowning, trotted thither at noon. Here were trees under which lay, in +happy season, over-ripe Bartlett pears; here, too, was one +mulberry-tree, whereof the suggestion was strange and wonderful, and +the fruit less appealing to taste than to a mystical fancy. But outside +the bank wall grew the balm-of-Gileads, in a stately, benevolent +row,--trees of healing, of fragrance and romantic charm. No child ever +sought the old home to beg pears and mulberries, or to fill the +school-house pail at its dark-bosomed well, without bearing away a few +of the leaves in a covetous grasp. Sweet treasure-trove these, to be +pressed to fresh young faces, and held and patted in hot little palms, +till they grew flabby but evermore fragrant, still diffusing over the +dusty schoolroom that warm odor, whispering to those who read no corner +but their own New England, of the myrrh and balsams of the East. + +We knew everything in those days, we aimless knights-errant with +dinner-pail and slate; the dry, frosty hollow where gentians bloom when +the pride of the field is over, the woody slopes of the hepatica's +awakening, under coverlet of withered leaves, and the sunny banks where +violets love to live with their good gossip, the trembling anemone. At +noon, we roved abroad into solitudes so deep that even our unsuspecting +hearts sometimes quaked with fear of dark and lonesomeness; and then we +came trooping back at the sound of the bell, untamed, happy little +savages, ready to settle, with a long breath, to the afternoon's drowsy +routine. Arrant nonsense that! the boundary of British America and the +conjugation of the verb _to be_! Who that might loll away the hours +upon a bank in silken ease, needed aught even of computation or the +tongues? He alone had inherited the earth. + +All the little figures flitting through those tranquil early dramas are +so sharply drawn, so brightly colored still! I meet Melissa Crane +sometimes nowadays, a prosperous matron with space enough on her broad +back for the very largest plaid ever woven; but her present identity is +hazy and unreal. I see instead, with a sudden throb of memory, the +little Melissa, who, one recess, accepted a sugared doughnut from me, +and said, with a quaint imitation of old folks' manner,-- + +"I think your mother will be a real good cook, if she lives!" + +I hear of Susie Marden, who went out West, married, and grew up with +the country in great magnificence; but to me she is and ever will be +the little girl who made seventy pies, one Thanksgiving time, thereby +earning the somewhat stinted admiration of those among us who could not +cook. Many a great deed, tacitly promised in that springtime, never +came to pass; many a brilliant career ingloriously ended. There was Sam +Marshall. He could do sums to the admiration of class and teacher, and, +Cuvier-like, evolve an entire flock from Colburn's two geese and a +half. His memory was prodigious. He could name the Presidents, bound +the States and Territories, and rattle off the list of prepositions so +fast that you could almost see the spark-shower from his rushing wheels +of thought. It was an understood thing among us, when Sam was in his +teens, that he should at least enter the Senate; perhaps he would even +be President, and scatter offices, like halfpence, among his scampering +townsmen. But to-day he patiently does his haying--by hand! and "goes +sleddin'" in the winter. The Senate is as far from him as the Polar +Star, and I question whether he could even bear the crucial test of two +geese and a half. Yet I still look upon him with a thrill of awe, as +the man selected by the popular vote to represent us in fame's +Valhalla, and mysteriously defeated by some unexpected move of the +"unseen hand at a game." + +There were a couple of boys such good comrades as never to be happy +save when together. They cared only for the games made for two; all +their goods were tacitly held in common, and a tradition still lives +that David, when a new teacher asked his exact age, claimed his +comrade's birthday, and then wondered why everybody laughed. They had a +way of wandering off together to the woods, on Saturday mornings, when +the routine of chores could be hurried through, and always they bore +with them a store of eggs, apples, or sweet corn, to be cooked in happy +seclusion. All this raw material was stolen from the respective +haylofts and gardens at home, though, as the fathers owned, with an +appreciative grin, the boys might have taken it openly for the asking. +That, however, would so have alloyed the charm of gypsying that it was +not to be thought of for a moment; and they crept about on their +foraging expeditions with all the caution of a hostile tribe. Blessed +fathers and mothers to wink at the escapade, and happy boys, wise +chiefly in their longing to be free! We had a theory that Jonathan and +David would go into business together. Perhaps we thought of them in +the same country store, their chairs tilted on either side of the +air-tight stove, telling stories, in the intervals of custom, as they +apparently did in their earlier estate. For, shy as they were in +general company, they chatted together with an intense earnestness all +day long; and it was one of the stock questions in our neighborhood, +when the social light burned low,-- + +"What under the sun do you s'pose Dave and Jont find to talk about?" + +Alas! again the world had builded foolishly; for with early manhood, +they fell in love with the same round-cheeked school-teacher. Jonathan +married her, after what wrench of feeling I know not; and the other +fled to the town, whence he never returned save for the briefest visit +at Thanksgiving or Christmas time. The stay-at-home lad is a warm +farmer, and the little school-teacher a mother whose unlined face shows +the record of a placid life; but David cannot know even this, save by +hearsay, for he never sees them. He is a moneyed man, and not a year +ago, gave the town a new library. But is he happy? Or does the old +wound still show a ragged edge? For that may be, they tell us, even +"when you come to forty year." + +Then, clad in brighter vestments of memory, there was the lad who +earned unto himself much renown, even among his disapproving relatives, +by running away from home, in quest of gold and glory. True, he was +brought back at the end of three days, footsore and muddy, and with +noble appetite for the griddle-cakes his mother cooked him in lieu of +the traditional veal,--but all undaunted. He never tried it again, yet +people say he has thrown away all his chances of a thrifty living by +perpetual wandering in the woods with gun and fishing-rod, and that he +is cursed with a deplorable indifference to the state of his fences and +potato-patch. No one could call him an admirable citizen, but I am not +sure that he has chosen the worser part; for who is so jovial and +sympathetic on a winter evening, when the apples are passed, and even +the shining cat purrs content before the blaze, or in the wood +solitudes, familiar to him as his own house door? + +"Pa'tridges' nests?" he said, one spring, with a cock of his eye +calculated to show at once a humorous recognition of his genius and his +delinquencies. "Sartain! I wish I was as sure where I keep my scythe +sned!" + +He has learned all the lore of the woods, the ways of "wild critters," +and the most efficacious means both to woo and kill them. Prim +spinsters eye him acridly, as a man given over to "shif'less" ways, and +wives set him up, like a lurid guidepost, before husbands prone to +lapse from domestic thrift; but the dogs smile at him, and children, +for whom he is ever ready to make kite or dory, though all his hay +should mildew, or to string thimbleberries on a grass spear while +supper cools within, tumble merrily at his heels. Such as he should +never assume domestic relations, to be fettered with requirements of +time and place. Let them rather claim maintenance from a grateful +public, and live, like troubadours of old, ministrant to the general +joy. + +Not all the memories of that early day are quite unspotted by remorse. +Although we wore the mask of jocund faces and straightforward glance, +we little people repeatedly proclaimed ourselves the victims of Adam's +fall. Even then we needed to pray for deliverance from those passions +which have since pursued us. There was the little bound girl who lived +with a "selec'man's" wife, a woman with children of her own, but a hard +taskmistress to the stranger within her gates. Poor little Polly! her +clothes, made over from those of her mistress, were of dark, rough +flannel, often in uncouth plaids and appalling stripes. Her petticoats +were dyed of a sickly hue known as cudbar, and she wore heavy woollen +stockings of the same shade. Polly got up early, to milk and drive the +cows; she set the table, washed milkpans, and ran hither and thither on +her sturdy cudbar legs, always willing, sometimes singing, and often +with a mute, questioning look on her little freckled face, as if she +had already begun to wonder why it has pleased God to set so many +boundary lines over which the feeble may not pass. The selec'man's +son--a heavy-faced, greedy boy--was a bully, and Polly became his butt; +she did his tasks, hectored by him in private, and with a child's +strange reticence, she never told even us how unbearable he made her +life. We could see it, however; for not much remains hidden in that +communistic atmosphere of the country neighborhood. But sometimes Polly +revolted; her temper blazed up, a harmless flash in the pan, and then, +it was said, Mis' Jeremiah took her to the shed-chamber and, trounced +her soundly. I myself have seen her sitting at the little low window, +when I trotted by, in the pride of young life, to "borry some +emptin's," or the recipe for a new cake. Often she waved a timid hand +to me; and I am glad to remember a certain sunny morning, illuminated +now because I tossed her up a bright hollyhock in return. It was little +to give out of a full and happy day; but Polly had nothing. Once she +came near great good fortune,--and missed it! For a lady, who boarded a +few weeks in the neighborhood, took a fancy to Polly, and was stirred +to outspoken wrath by our tales of the severity of her life. She gave +her a pretty pink cambric dress, and Polly wore it on "last day," at +the end of the summer term. She was evidently absorbed in love of it, +and sat, smoothing its shiny surface with her little cracked hand, so +oblivious to the requirements of the occasion that she only looked up +dazed when the teacher told her to describe the Amazon River, and +unregretfully let the question pass. The lady meant to take Polly away +with, her, but she fell sick with erysipelas in the face, and was +hurried off to the city to be nursed, "a sight to behold," as everybody +said. And whether she died, or whether she got well and forgot Polly, +none of us ever heard. We only knew she did not return, bringing the +odor of violets and the rustle of starched petticoats into our placid +lives. + +But all these thoughts of Polly would be less wearing, when they come +in the night-time knocking at the heart, if I could only remember her +as glowing under the sympathy and loving-kindness of her little mates. +Alas! it was not so. We were senseless little brutes, who, never having +learned the taste of misery ourselves, had no pity for the misfortunes +of others. She was, indeed, ill-treated; but what were we, to translate +the phrase? She was an under dog, and we had no mercy on her. We +"plagued" her, God forgive us! And what the word means, in its full +horror, only a child can compass. We laughed at her cudbar petticoats, +her little "chopped hands;" and when she stumbled over the arithmetic +lesson, because she had been up at four o'clock every morning since the +first bluebirds came, we laughed at that. Life in general seems to have +treated Polly in somewhat the same way. I hear that she did not marry +well, and that her children had begun to "turn out bad," when she died, +prematurely bent and old, not many weeks ago. But when I think of what +we might have given and what we did withhold, when I realize that one +drop of water from each of us would have filled her little cup to +overflowing, there is one compensating thought, and I murmur, +conscience-smitten, "I'm glad she had the pink dress!" + +And now the little school is ever present with us, ours still for +counsel or reproof. Its long-closed sessions are open, by day and +night; and I suppose, as time goes on, and we drop into the estate of +those who sit by the fireside, oblivious to present scenes, yet acutely +awake to such as + + "Flash upon that inward eye + Which is the bliss of solitude," + +it will grow more and more lifelike and more near. Beside it, live all +the joys of memory and many a long-past pain. For we who have walked in +country ways, walk in them always, and with no divided love, even +though brick pavements have been our chosen road this many a year. We +follow the market, we buy and sell, and even run across the sea, to fit +us with new armor for the soul, to guard it from the hurts of years; +but ever do we keep the calendar of this one spring of life. Some +unheard angelus summons us to days of feast and mourning; it may be the +joy of the fresh-springing willow, or the nameless pain responsive to +the croaking of frogs, in the month when twilights are misty, and waves +of world-sorrow flood in upon the heart, we know not why. All those +trembling half-thoughts of the sleep of the year and its awakening,--we +have not escaped them by leaving the routine that brought them forth. +We know when the first violets are blowing in the woods, and we paint +for ourselves the tasselling of the alder and the red of maple-buds. We +taste still the sting of checkerberry and woodsy flavor of the fragrant +birch. When fields of corn are shimmering in the sun, we know exactly +how it would seem to run through those dusty aisles, swept by that +silken drapery, and counselled in whispers from the plumy tops so far +above our heads. The ground-sparrow's nest is not strange to us; no, +nor the partridge's hidden treasure within the wood. We can make +pudding-bags of live-forever, dolls' bonnets, "trimmed up to the +nines," out of the velvet mullein leaf, and from the ox-eyed daisies, +round, cap-begirt faces, smiling as the sun. All the homely secrets of +rural life are ours: the taste of pie, cinnamon-flavored, from the +dinner-pails at noon; the smell of "pears a-b'ilin'," at that happiest +hour when, in the early dusk, we tumble into the kitchen, to find the +table set and the stove redolent of warmth and savor. "What you got for +supper?" we cry,--question to be paralleled in the summer days by +"What'd you have for dinner?" as, famished little bears, we rush to the +dairy-wheel, to feed ravenously on the cold, delicious fragments of the +meal eaten without us. + +If time ever stood still, if we were condemned to the blank solitude of +hospital nights or becalmed, mid-ocean days, and had hours for +fruitless dreaming, I wonder what viands we should choose, in setting +forth a banquet from that ambrosial past! Foods unknown to poetry and +song: "cold b'iled dish," pan-dowdy, or rye drop-cakes dripping with +butter! For these do we taste, in moments of retrospect; and perhaps we +dwell the more on their homely savor because we dare not think what +hands prepared them for our use, or, when the board was set, what faces +smiled. We are too wise, with the cunning prudence of the years, to +penetrate over-far beyond the rosy boundary of youth, lest we find also +that bitter pool which is not Lethe, but the waters of a vain regret. + + + + +FARMER ELI'S VACATION + + +"It don't seem as if we'd really got round to it, does it, father?" +asked Mrs. Pike. + +The west was paling, and the August insects stirred the air with their +crooning chirp. Eli and his wife sat together on the washing-bench +outside the back door, waiting for the milk to cool before it should be +strained. She was a large, comfortable woman, with an unlined face, and +smooth, fine auburn hair; he was spare and somewhat bent, with curly +iron-gray locks, growing thin, and crow's-feet about his deep-set gray +eyes. He had been smoking the pipe of twilight contentment, but now he +took it out and laid it on the bench beside him, uncrossing his legs +and straightening himself, with the air of a man to whom it falls, +after long pondering, to take some decisive step. + +"No; it don't seem as if 'twas goin' to happen," he owned. "It looked +pretty dark to me, all last week. It's a good deal of an undertakin', +come to think it all over. I dunno's I care about goin'." + +"Why, father! After you've thought about it so many years, an' Sereno's +got the tents strapped up, an' all! You must be crazy!" + +"Well," said the farmer, gently, as he rose and went to carry the +milk-pails into the pantry, calling coaxingly, as he did so, "Kitty! +kitty! You had your milk? Don't you joggle, now!" For one eager tabby +rose on her hind legs, in purring haste, and hit her nose against the +foaming saucer. + +Mrs. Pike came ponderously to her feet, and followed, with the heavy, +swaying motion of one grown fleshy and rheumatic. She was not in the +least concerned about Eli's change of mood. He was a gentle soul, and +she had always been able to guide him in paths of her own choosing. +Moreover, the present undertaking was one involving his own good +fortune, and she meant to tolerate no foolish scruples which might +interfere with its result. For Eli, though he had lived all his life +within easy driving distance of the ocean, had never seen it, and ever +since his boyhood he had cherished one darling plan,--some day he would +go to the shore, and camp out there for a week. This, in his starved +imagination, was like a dream of the Acropolis to an artist stricken +blind, or as mountain outlines to the dweller in a lonely plain. But +the years had flitted past, and the dream never seemed nearer +completion. There were always planting, haying, and harvesting to be +considered; and though he was fairly prosperous, excursions were +foreign to his simple habit of life. But at last, his wife had stepped +into the van, and organized an expedition, with all the valor of a +Francis Drake. + +"Now, don't you say one word, father," she had said. "We're goin' down +to the beach, Sereno, an' Hattie, an' you an' me, an' we're goin' to +camp out. It'll do us all good." + +For days before the date of the excursion, Eli had been solemn and +tremulous, as with joy; but now, on the eve of the great event, he +shrank back from it, with an undefined notion that it was like death, +and that he was not prepared. Next morning, however, when they all rose +and took their early breakfast, preparatory to starting at five, he +showed no sign of indecision, and even went about his outdoor tasks +with an alacrity calculated, as his wife approvingly remarked, to +"for'ard the v'y'ge." He had at last begun to see his way clear, and he +looked well satisfied when his daughter Hattie and Sereno, her husband, +drove into the yard, in a wagon cheerfully suggestive of a wandering +life. The tents and a small hair-trunk were stored in the back, and the +horse's pail swung below. + +"Well, father," called Hattie, her rosy face like a flower under the +large shade-hat she had trimmed for the occasion, "guess we're goin' to +have a good day!" + +He nodded from the window, where he was patiently holding his head high +and undergoing strangulation, while his wife, breathing huskily with +haste and importance, put on his stock. + +"You come in, Hattie, an' help pack the doughnuts into that lard-pail +on the table," she called. "I guess you'll have to take two pails. They +ain't very big." + +At length, the two teams were ready, and Eli mounted to his place, +where he looked very slender beside his towering mate. The hired man +stood leaning on the pump, chewing a bit of straw, and the cats rubbed +against his legs, with tails like banners; they were all impressed by a +sense of the unusual. + +"Well, good-by, Luke," Mrs. Pike called, over her shoulder; and Eli +gave the man a solemn nod, gathered up the reins, and drove out of the +yard. Just outside the gate, he pulled up. + +"Whoa!" he called, and Luke lounged forward. "Don't you forgit them +cats! Git up, Doll!" And this time, they were gone. + +For the first ten miles of the way, familiar in being the road to +market, Eli was placidly cheerful. The sense that he was going to do +some strange deed, to step into an unknown country, dropped away from +him, and he chatted, in his intermittent, serious fashion, of the crops +and the lay of the land. + +"Pretty bad job up along here, ain't it, father?" called Sereno, as +they passed a sterile pasture where two plodding men and a yoke of oxen +were redeeming the soil from its rocky fetters. + +"There's a good deal o' pastur', in some places, that ain't fit for +nothin' but to hold the world together," returned Eli; and then he was +silent, his eyes fixed on Doll's eloquent ears, his mouth working a +little. For this progress through a less desirable stratum of life +caused him to cast a backward glance over his own smooth, middle-aged +road. + +"We've prospered, 'ain't we, Maria?" he said, at last; and his wife, +unconsciously following his thoughts, in the manner of those who have +lived long together, stroked her black silk _visite_, and answered, +with a well-satisfied nod: + +"I guess we 'ain't got no cause to complain." + +The roadside was parched under an August sun; tansy was dust-covered, +and ferns had grown ragged and gray. The jogging horses left behind +their lazy feet a suffocating cloud. + +"My land!" cried Mrs. Pike, "if that ain't goldenrod! I do b'lieve it +comes earlier every year, or else the seasons are changin'. See them +elderberries! Ain't they purple! You jest remember that bush, an' when +we go back, we'll fill some pails. I dunno when I've made elderberry +wine." + +Like her husband, she was vaguely excited; she began to feel as if life +would be all holidays. At noon, they stopped under the shadow of an +elm-tree which, from its foothold in a field, completely arched the +road; and there they ate a lunch of pie and doughnuts, while the +horses, freed from their headstalls, placidly munched a generous feed +of oats, near by. Hattie and her mother accepted this picnicking with +an air of apologetic amusement; and when one or two passers-by looked +at them, they smiled a little at vacancy, with the air of wishing it +understood that they were by no means accustomed to such +irregularities. + +"I guess they think we're gypsies," said Hattie, as one carriage rolled +past. + +"Well, they needn't trouble themselves," returned her mother, rising +with difficulty to brush the crumbs from her capacious lap. "I guess +I've got as good an extension-table to home as any on 'em." + +But Eli ate sparingly, and with a preoccupied and solemn look. + +"Land, father!" exclaimed his wife, "you 'ain't eat no more'n a bird! + +"I guess I'll go over to that well," said he, "an' git a drink o' +water. I drink more'n I eat, if I ain't workin'." But when he came +back, carefully bearing a tin pail brimming with cool, clear water, his +face expressed strong disapprobation, and he smacked his lips +scornfully. + +"Terrible flat water!" he announced. "Tastes as if it come out o' the +cistern." But the others could find no fault with it, and Sereno +drained the pail. + +"Pretty good, I call it," he said; and Mrs. Pike rejoined,-- + +"You always was pretty particular about water, father." + +But Eli still shook his head, and ejaculated, "Brackish, brackish!" as +he began to put the bit in Doll's patient mouth. He was thinking, with +a passion of loyalty, of the clear, ice-cold water at home, which had +never been shut out, by a pump, from the purifying airs of heaven, but +lay where the splashing bucket and chain broke, every day, the image of +moss and fern. His throat grew parched and dry with longing. + +When they were within three miles of the sea, it seemed to them that +they could taste the saltness of the incoming breeze; the road was +ankle-deep in dust; the garden flowers were glaring in their +brightness. It was a new world. And when at last they emerged from the +marsh-bordered road upon a ridge of sand, and turned a sudden corner, +Mrs. Pike faced her husband in triumph. + +"There, father!" she cried. "There 'tis!" + +But Eli's eyes were fixed on the dashboard in front of him. He looked +pale. + +"Why, father," said she, impatiently, "ain't you goin' to look? It's +the sea!" + +"Yes, yes," said Eli, quietly; "byme-by. I'm goin' to put the horses up +fust." + +"Well, I never!" said Mrs. Pike; and as they drew up on the sandy tract +where Sereno had previously arranged a place for their tents, she +added, almost fretfully, turning to Hattie, "I dunno what's come over +your father. There's the water, an' he won't even cast his eyes at it." + +But Hattie understood her father, by some intuition of love, though not +of likeness. + +"Don't you bother him, ma," she said. "He'll make up his mind to it +pretty soon. Here, le's lift out these little things, while they're +unharnessin', and then they can get at the tents." + +Mrs. Pike's mind was diverted by the exigencies of labor, and she said +no more; but after the horses had been put up at a neighboring house, +and Sereno, red-faced with exertion, had superintended the +tent-raising, Hattie slipped her arm through her father's, and led him +away. + +"Come, pa," she said, in a whisper; "le's you and me climb over on them +rocks." + +Eli went; and when they had picked their way over sand and pools to a +headland where the water thundered below, and salt spray dashed up in +mist to their feet, he turned and looked at the sea. He faced it as a +soul might face Almighty Greatness, only to be stricken blind +thereafter; for his eyes filled painfully with slow, hot tears. Hattie +did not look at him, but after a while she shouted in his ear, above +the outcry of the surf,-- + +"Here, pa, take my handkerchief. I don't know how 'tis about you, but +this spray gets in my eyes." + +Eli took it obediently, but he did not speak; he only looked at the +sea. The two sat there, chilled and quite content, until six o'clock, +when Mrs. Pike came calling to them from the beach, with dramatic +shouts, emphasized by the waving of her ample apron,-- + +"Supper's ready! Sereno's built a bum-fire, an' I've made some tea!" + +Then they slowly made their way back to the tents, and sat down to the +evening meal. Sereno seemed content, and Mrs. Pike was bustling and +triumphant; the familiar act of preparing food had given her the +feeling of home. + +"Well, father, what think?" she asked, smiling exuberantly, as she +passed him his mug of tea. "Does it come up to what you expected?" + +Eli turned upon her his mild, dazed eyes. + +"I guess it does," he said, gently. + +That night, they sat upon the shore while the moon rose and laid in the +water her majestic pathway of light. Eli was the last to leave the +rocks, and he lay down on his hard couch in the tent, without speaking. + +"I wouldn't say much to father," whispered Hattie to her mother, as +they parted for the night. "He feels it more 'n we do." + +"Well, I s'pose he is some tired," said Mrs. Pike, acquiescing, after a +brief look of surprise. "It's a good deal of a jaunt, but I dunno but I +feel paid a'ready. Should you take out your hair-pins, Hattie?" + +She slept soundly and vocally, but her husband did not close his eyes. +He looked, though he could see nothing, through the opening in the +tent, in the direction where lay the sea, solemnly clamorous, eternally +responsive to some infinite whisper from without his world. The tension +of the hour was almost more than he could bear; he longed for morning, +in sharp suspense, with a faint hope that the light might bring relief. +Just as the stars faded, and one luminous line pencilled the east, he +rose, smoothed his hair, and stepped softly out upon the beach. There +he saw two shadowy figures, Sereno and Hattie. She hurried forward to +meet him. + +"You goin' to see the sunrise, too, father?" +she asked. "I made Sereno come. He's awful mad at bein' waked up." + +Eli grasped her arm. + +"Hattie," he said, in a whisper, "don't you tell. I jest come out to +see how 'twas here, before I go. I'm goin' home,--I'm goin' _now_." + +"Why, father!" said Hattie; but she peered more closely into his face, +and her tone changed. "All right," she added, cheerfully. "Sereno'll go +and harness up." + +"No; I'm goin' to walk." + +"But, father--" + +"I don't mean to breakup your stayin' here, nor your mother's. You tell +her how 'twas. I'm goin' to walk." + +Hattie turned and whispered to her husband for a moment. Then she took +her father's hand. + +"I'll slip into the tent and put you up somethin' for your breakfast +and luncheon," she said. "Sereno's gone to harness; for, pa, you must +take one horse, and you can send Luke back with it Friday, so's we can +get the things home. What do we want of two horses down here, at two +and ninepence a day? I guess I know!" + +So Eli yielded; but before his wife appeared, he had turned his back on +the sea, where the rose of dawn was fast unfolding. As he jogged +homeward, the dusty roadsides bloomed with flowers of paradise, and the +insects' dry chirp thrilled like the song of angels. He drove into the +yard just at the turning of the day, when the fragrant smoke of many a +crackling fire curls cheerily upward, in promise of the evening meal. + +"What's busted?" asked Luke, swinging himself down from his load of +fodder-corn, and beginning to unharness Doll. + +"Oh, nothin'," said Eli, leaping, from the wagon as if twenty years had +been taken from his bones. "I guess I'm too old for such jaunts. I hope +you didn't forgit them cats." + + + + +AFTER ALL. + + +"The land o' gracious!" said Mrs. Lothrop Wilson, laying down her +"drawing-in hook" on the rug stretched between two chairs in the middle +of the kitchen, and getting up to look from the window. "If there ain't +Lucindy comin' out o' the Pitmans' without a thing on her head, an' all +them little curls a-flyin'! An' the old Judge ain't cold in his grave!" + +"I guess the Judge won't be troubled with cold, any to speak of, arter +this," said her husband from the window, where he sat eating his +forenoon lunch of apple-pie and cheese. He was a cooper, and perhaps +the pleasantest moment in his day was that when he slipped out of his +shop, leaving a bit of paper tacked on the door to say he was "on +errands," and walked soberly home for his bite and sup. "If he ain't +good an' warm about now, then the Scriptur's ain't no more to be +depended on than a last year's almanac." + +"Late Wilson, I'm ashamed of you," retorted his wife, looking at him +with such reproof that, albeit she had no flesh to spare, she made +herself a double chin. "An' he your own uncle, too! Well, he _was_ +nigh, I'll say that for him; an' if he'd had his way, the sun'd ha' riz +an' set when he said the word. But Lucindy's his only darter, an' if +she don't so much as pretend to be a mourner, I guess there ain't +nobody that will. There! don't you say no more! She's comin' in here!" + +A light step sounded on the side piazza, and Lucindy came in, with a +little delicate, swaying motion peculiar to her walk. She was a very +slender woman, far past middle life, with a thin, smiling face, light +blue eyes, shining with an eager brightness, and fine hair, which +escaped from its tight twist in little spiral curls about the face. + +"How do, Jane?" she said, in an even voice, stirred by a pleasant, +reedy thrill. "How do, Lote?" + +Lothrop pushed forward a chair, looking at her with an air of great +kindliness. There was some slight resemblance between them, but the +masculine type seemed entirely lacking in that bright alertness so +apparent in her. Mrs. Wilson nodded, and went back to her drawing-in. +She was making a very red rose with a pink middle. + +"I dunno's I can say I'm surprised to see you, Lucindy," she began, +with the duteous aspect of one forced to speak her disapproval, "for I +ketched you comin' out o' the Pitmans' yard." + +"Yes," said Lucindy, smiling, and plaiting her skirt between her +nervous fingers. "Yes, I went in to see if they'd let me take Old +Buckskin a spell to-morrow." + +"What under the sun--" began Mrs. Wilson; but her husband looked at +her, and she stopped. He had become so used to constituting himself +Lucindy's champion in the old Judge's day, now just ended, that he kept +an unremitting watch on any one who might threaten her peace. But +Lucindy evidently guessed at the unspoken question. + +"I should have come here, if I'd expected to drive," she said. "But I +thought maybe your horse wa'n't much used to women, and I kind o' +dreaded to be the first one to try him with a saddle." + +Mrs. Wilson put down her hook again, and leaned back in her chair. She +looked from her husband to Lucindy, without speaking. But Lucindy went +on, with the innocent simplicity of a happy child. + +"You know I was always possessed to ride horseback," she said, +addressing herself to Lothrop, "and father never would let me. And now +he ain't here, I mean to try it, and see if 'tain't full as nice as I +thought." + +"Lucindy!" burst forth Mrs. Wilson, explosively, "ain't you goin' to +pay no respect to your father's memory?" + +Lucindy turned to her, smiling still, but with a hint of quizzical +shrewdness about her mouth. + +"I guess I ain't called on to put myself out," she said, simply, yet +not irreverently. "Father had his way in pretty much everything while +he was alive. I always made up my mind if I should outlive him, I'd +have all the things I wanted then, when young folks want the most. And +you know then I couldn't get 'em." + +"Well!" said Mrs. Wilson. Her tone spoke volumes of conflicting +commentary. + +"You got a saddle?" asked Lucindy, turning to her cousin. "I thought I +remembered you had one laid away, up attic. I suppose you'd just as +soon I'd take it?" + +He was neither shocked nor amused. He had been looking at her very +sadly, as one who read in every word the entire tragedy of a repressed +and lonely life. + +"Yes, we have, Lucindy," he said, gently, quieting his wife by a motion +of the hand, "but 'tain't what you think. It's a man's saddle. You'd +have to set straddle. + +"Oh!" said Lucindy, a faint shade of disappointment clouding her face. +"Well, no matter! I guess they've got one down to the Mardens'. Jane, +should you just as soon come round this afternoon, and look over some +bunnit trimmin's with me? I took two kinds of flowers home from Miss +West's, and I can't for my life tell which to have." + +"Ain't you goin' to wear black?" Mrs. Wilson spoke now in double +italics. + +"Oh, no! I don't feel called on to do that. I always liked bright +colors, and I don't know's 'twould be real honest in me to put on +mournin' when I didn't feel it." + +"'Honor thy father'--" began Jane, in spite of her husband's warning +hand; but Lucindy interrupted her, with some perplexity. + +"I have, Jane, I have! I honored father all my life, just as much as +ever I could. I done everything he ever told me, little and big! No, +though, there's one thing I never fell in with. I did cheat him once. I +don't know but I'm sorry for that, now it's all past and gone!" + +Her cousin had been drumming absently on the window-sill, but he looked +up with awakened interest. Mrs. Wilson, too, felt a wholesale +curiosity, and she, at least, saw no reason for curbing it. + +"What was it, Lucindy?" she asked. "The old hunks!" she repeated to +herself, like an anathema. + +Lucindy began her confession, with eyes down-dropped and a faltering +voice. + +"Father wanted I should have my hair done up tight and firm. So I +pretended I done the best I could with it. I told him these curls round +my face and down in my neck was too short, and I couldn't pin 'em up. +But they wa'n't curls, and they wouldn't ha' been short if I hadn't cut +'em. For every night, and sometimes twice a day, I curled 'em on a +pipe-stem." + +"Ain't them curls nat'ral, Lucindy?" cried Mrs. Wilson. "Have you been +fixin' 'em to blow round your face that way, all these years?" + +"I begun when I was a little girl," said Lucindy, guiltily. "It did +seem kind o' wrong, but I took real pleasure in it!" + +Lothrop could bear no more. He wanted to wipe his eyes, but he chose +instead to walk straight out of the room and down to his shop. His wife +could only express a part of her amazement by demanding, in a futile +sort of way,-- + +"Where'd you get the pipe?" + +"I stole the first one from a hired man we had," said Lucindy, her +cheeks growing pink. "Sometimes I had to use slate-pencils." + +There was no one else to administer judgment, and Mrs. Wilson felt the +necessity. + +"Well," she began, "an' you can set there, tellin' that an' smilin'--" + +"My smilin' don't mean any more'n some other folks' cryin', I guess," +said Lucindy, smiling still more broadly. "I begun that more'n thirty +years ago. I looked into the glass one day, and I see the corners of my +mouth were goin' down. Sharper 'n, vinegar, I was! So I says to myself, +'I can smile, whether or no. Nobody can't help that!' And I did, and +now I guess I don't know when I do it." + +"Well!" + +Lucindy rose suddenly and brushed her lap, as if she dusted away +imaginary cares. + +"There!" she exclaimed, "I've said more this mornin' than I have for +forty year! Don't you lead me on to talk about what's past and gone! +The only thing is, I mean to have a good time now, what there is left +of it. Some things you can't get back, and some you can. Well, you step +round this afternoon, won't you?" + +"I dunno's I can. John's goin' to bring Claribel up, to spend the +arternoon an' stay to supper." + +"Why, dear heart! that needn't make no difference. I should admire to +have her, too. I'll show her some shells and coral I found this +mornin', up attic." + +Lucindy had almost reached the street when she turned, as with a sudden +resolution, and retraced her steps. + +"Jane," she called, looking in at the kitchen window. "It's a real +bright day, pretty as any 't ever I see. Don't you worry for fear o' my +disturbin' them that's gone, if I do try to ketch at somethin' +pleasant. If they're wiser now, I guess they'll be glad I had sense +enough left to do it!" + +That afternoon, Mrs. Wilson, in her best gingham and checked sunbonnet, +took her way along the village street to the old Judge Wilson house. It +was a colonial mansion, sitting austerely back in a square yard. In +spite of its prosperity, everything about it wore a dreary air, as if +it were tired of being too well kept; for houses are like people, and +carry their own indefinable atmosphere with them. Mrs. Wilson herself +lived on a narrower and more secluded street, though it was said that +her husband, if he had not defied the old Judge in some crucial matter, +might have studied law with him, and possibly shared his speculations +in wool. Then he, too, might have risen to be one of the first men in +the county, instead of working, in his moderate fashion, for little +more than day's wages. Claribel, a pale, dark-eyed child, also dressed +in her best gingham, walked seriously by her grandmother's side. +Lucindy was waiting for them at the door. + +"I declare!" she called, delightedly. "I was 'most afraid you'd forgot +to come! Well, Claribel, if you 'ain't grown! They'll have to put a +brick on your head, or you'll be taller'n grandma." + +Claribel submitted to be kissed, and they entered the large, cool +sitting-room, where they took off their things. + +"You make yourself at home, Jane," said Lucindy, fluttering about, in +pleasant excitement. "I ain't goin' to pay you a mite of attention till +I see Claribel fixed. Now, Claribel, remember! you can go anywheres +you're a mind to. And you can touch anything there is. You won't find a +thing a little girl can hurt. Here, you come here where I be, and look +across the entry. See that big lamp on the table? Well, if you unhook +them danglin' things and peek through 'em, you'll find the brightest +colors! My, how pretty they be! I've been lookin' through 'em this +mornin'. I used to creep in and do it when I was little," she +continued, in an aside to Mrs. Wilson. "Once I lost one." A strange +look settled on her face; she was recalling a bitter experience. +"There!" she said, releasing Claribel with a little hug, "now run +along! If you look on the lower shelf of the what-not, you'll see some +shells and coral I put there for just such a little girl." + +Claribel walked soberly away to her playing. + +"Don't you hurt nothin'!" called Mrs. Wilson; and Claribel responded +properly,-- + +"No, 'm." + +"There!" said Lucindy, watching the precise little back across the +hall, "Now le's talk a mite about vanity. You reach me that green box +behind your chair. Here's the best flowers Miss West had for what I +wanted. Here's my bunnit, too. You see what you think." + +She set the untrimmed bonnet on her curls, and laid first a bunch of +bright chrysanthemums against it, and then some strange lavender roses. +The roses turned her complexion to an ivory whiteness, and her anxious, +intent expression combined strangely with that undesirable effect. + +"My soul, Lucindy!" cried Mrs. Wilson, startled into a more robust +frankness than usual, "you do look like the Old Nick!" + +A shade came over Miss Lucindy's honest face. It seemed, for a moment, +as if she were going to cry. + +"Don't you like 'em, Jane?" she asked, appealingly. "Won't neither of +'em do?" + +Mrs. Wilson was not incapable of compunction, but she felt also the +demands of the family honor. + +"Well, Lucindy," she began, soothingly, "now 'tain't any use, is it, +for us to say we ain't gettin' on in years? We be! You 're my age, +an'--Why, look at Claribel in there! What should you say, if you see me +settin' out to meetin' with red flowers on my bunnit? I should be +nothin' but a laughin'-stock!" + +Lucindy laid the flowers back in their box, with as much tenderness as +if they held the living fragrance of a dream. + +"Well!" she said, wistfully. Then she tried to smile. + +"Here!" interposed Mrs. Wilson, not over-pleased with the part she felt +called upon to play, "you give me your bunnit. Don't I see your old +sheaf o'wheat in the box? Let me pin it on for you. There, now, don't +that look more suitable?" + +By the time she had laid it on, in conventional flatness, and held it +up for inspection, every trace of rebellion had apparently been +banished from Lucindy's mind. + +"Here," said the victim of social rigor, "you hand me the box, and I'll +set it away." + +They had a cosey, old-fashioned chat, touching upon nothing in the +least revolutionary, and Mrs. Wilson was glad to think Lucindy had +forgotten all about the side-saddle. This last incident of the bonnet, +she reflected, showed how much real influence she had over Lucindy. She +must take care to exert it kindly but seriously now that the old Judge +was gone. + +"You goin' to keep your same help?" she asked, continuing the +conversation. + +"Oh, yes! I wouldn't part with Ann Toby for a good deal. She's goin' to +have her younger sister come to live with us now. We shall be a passel +o' women, sha'n't we?" + +"I guess it's well for you Ann Toby's what she is, or she'd cheat you +out o' your eye-teeth!" + +"Well," answered Lucindy, easily, "I ain't goin' to worry about my +eye-teeth. If I be cheated out of 'em, I guess I can get a new set." + +At five o'clock, they had some cookies, ostensibly for Claribel, since +Mrs. Wilson could not stay to tea; and then, when the little maid had +taken hers out to the front steps, Lucindy broached a daring plan, that +moment conceived. + +"Say, Jane," she whispered, with great pretence of secrecy, "what do +you think just come into my head? Do you s'pose Mattie would be put +out, if I should give Claribel a hat?" + +"Mercy sakes, no! all in the family so! But what set you out on that? +She's got a good last year's one now, an' the ribbin's all pressed out +an' turned, complete." + +"I'll tell you," Said Lucindy, leaning nearer, and speaking as if she +feared the very corners might hear. "You know I never was allowed to +wear bright colors. And to this day, I see the hats the other girls +had, blue on 'em, and pink. And if I could stand by and let a little +girl pick out a hat for herself, without a word said to stop her, +'twould be real agreeable to me." Lucindy was shrewd enough to express +herself somewhat moderately. She knew by experience how plainly Jane +considered it a duty to discourage any overmastering emotion. But Jane +Wilson was, at the same instant, feeling very keenly that Lucindy, +faded and old as she was, needed to be indulged in all her riotous +fancies. She repressed the temptation, however, at its birth. + +"Why, I dunno's there's anything in the way of it," she said, soberly. + +"Then, if you must go, I'll walk right along now. Claribel and I'll go +down to Miss West's, and see what she's got. Nothin''s to be gained by +waitin'!" + +When they walked out through the hall together, Lucindy cast a quick +and eager glance into the parlor. She almost hoped Claribel had +unhooked the glass prisms from the lamp, and left them scattered on the +floor, or that she had broken the precious shells, more than half a +century old. She wanted to put her arms round her, and say fondly, +"Never mind!" But the room was in perfect order, and little Claribel +waited for them, conscious of a propriety unstained by guilt. + +"Lucindy," said Mrs. Wilson, who also had used her eyes, "where's your +father's canes? They al'ays stood right here in this corner." + +Lucindy flushed. + +"Jane," she whispered, "don't you tell, but I--I buried 'em! I felt +somehow as if I couldn't--do the things I wanted to, if they set there +just the same." + +Jane could only look at her in silence. + +"Well," she said, at length, "it takes all kinds o' people to make a +world!" + +That, at least, was non-committal. + +She left the shoppers at her own gate, and they walked on together. +Lucindy was the more excited of the two. + +"Now, Claribel," she was saying, "you remember you can choose any hat +you see, and have it trimmed just the way you like. What color do you +set by most?" + +"I don't know," said Claribel. "Blue, I guess." + +"Well, there's a hat there all trimmed with it. I see it this mornin'. +Real bright, pretty blue! I believe there was some little noddin' +yellow flowers on it, too. But mind you don't take it unless you like +it." + +Miss West's shop occupied the front room of her house, a small yellow +one on a side street. The upper part of the door was of glass, and it +rang a bell as it opened. Lucindy had had very few occasions for going +there, and she entered with some importance. The bell clanged; and Miss +West, a portly woman, came in from the back room, whisking off her +apron in haste. + +"Oh, that you, Miss Lucindy?" she called. "I've just been fryin' some +riz doughnuts. Well, how'd the flowers suit?" + +"I haven't quite made up my mind," said Lucindy, trying to speak with +the dignity befitting her quest. "I just come in with little Claribel +here. She's goin' to have a new hat, and her grandma said she might +come down with me to pick it out. You've got some all trimmed, I +believe?" + +Miss West opened a drawer in an old-fashioned bureau. + +"Yes," she said, "I've got two my niece trimmed for me before she went +to make her visit to Sudleigh. One's blue. I guess you've seen that. +Then there's a nice white one. The 'Weekly' says white's all the go, +this year." + +She took out two little hats, and balanced them on either hand. The +blue one was strongly accented. The ribbon was very broad and very +bright, and its nodding cowslips gleamed in cheerful yellow. + +"Ain't that a beauty?" whispered Lucindy close to the little girl's +ear. "But there! Don't you have it unless you'd rather. There's lots of +other colors, you know; pink, and all sorts.". + +Claribel put out one little brown hand, and timidly touched the other +hat. + +"This one," she said. + +It was very plain, and very pretty; yet there were no flowers, and the +modest white ribbon lay smoothly about the crown. Miss Lucindy gave a +little cry, as if some one had hurt her. + +"O!" she exclaimed, "O Claribel! you sure?" Claribel was sure. + +"She's got real good taste," put in Miss West. "Shall I wrop it up?" + +"Yes," answered Lucindy, drearily. "We'll take it. But I suppose if she +should change, her mind before she wore it--" she added, with some +slight accession of hope. + +"Oh, yes, bring it right back. I'll give her another choice." + +But Claribel was not likely to change her mind. On the way home, she +walked sedately, and carried her hat with the utmost care. At her +grandmother's gate, she looked up shyly, and spoke of her own accord,-- + +"Thank you, ever so much!" + +Then she fled up the path, her bundle waving before her. That, at +least, looked like spontaneous joy, and the sight of it soothed Lucindy +into a temporary resignation; yet she was very much disappointed. + +The next afternoon, Tiverton saw a strange and wondrous sight. The +Crane boy led Old Buckskin, under an ancient saddle, into Miss +Lucindy's yard, and waited there before her door. The Crane boy had +told all his mates, and they had told their fathers and mothers, so +that a wild excitement flew through the village like stubble fire, +stirring the inhabitants to futile action. "It's like the 'clipse," +said one of the squad of children collected at the gate, "only they +ain't no smoked glass." Some of the grown people "made an errand" for +the sake of being in the street, but those who lived near-by simply +mounted guard at their doors and windows. The horse had not waited long +when Miss Lucindy appeared before the gaze of an eager world. Her face +had wakened into a keen excitement. + +"Here!" she called to the Crane boy's brother, who was lingering in the +background grinding his toes on the gravel and then lifting them in +sudden agony, "you take this kitchen chair and set it down side of him, +so't I can climb up." + +The chair was placed, and Miss Lucindy essayed to climb, but vainly. + +"Ann!" she called, "you bring me that little cricket." + +Ann Toby appeared unwillingly, the little cricket in her hand. She was +a tall, red-haired woman, who bore the reputation of being willing to +be "tore into inch pieces" for Miss Lucindy. Her freckled face burned +red with shame and anger. + +"For Heaven's sake, you come back into the house!" she whispered, with +tragic meaning. "You jest give it up, an' I'll scatter them boys. Sassy +little peeps! what are they starin' round here for, I'd like to know!" + +But Lucindy had mounted the cricket with much agility, and seated +herself on the horse's back. Once she slipped off; but the Crane boy +had the address to mutter, "Put your leg over the horn!" and, owing to +that timely advice, she remained. But he was to experience the +gratitude of an unfeeling world; for Ann Toby, in the irritation of one +tried beyond endurance, fell upon him and cuffed him soundly. And Mrs. +Crane, passing the gate at that moment, did not blame her. + +"My! it seems a proper high place to set," remarked Lucindy, adjusting +herself. "Well, I guess I sha'n't come to no harm. I'll ride round to +your place, boys, when I get through, and leave the horse there." She +trotted out of the yard amid the silence of the crowd. + +The spectacle was too awesome to be funny, even to the boys; it seemed +to Tiverton strangely like the work of madness. Only one little boy +recovered himself sufficiently to ran after her and hold up a switch he +had been peeling. + +"Here!" he piped up, daringly, "you want a whip." + +Lucindy smiled upon him benignly. + +"I never did believe in abusin' dumb creatur's," she said, "but I'm +much obliged." She took the switch and rode on. + +Now Mrs. Wilson had heard the rumor too late to admit of any +interference on her part, and she was staying indoors, suffering an +agony of shame, determined not to countenance the scandalous sight by +her presence. But as she sat "hooking-in," the window was darkened, and +involuntarily she lifted her eyes. There was the huge bulk of a horse, +and there was Lucindy. The horsewoman's cheeks were bright red with +exercise and joy. She wore a black dress and black mitts. Her little +curls were flying; and oh, most unbearable of all! they were surmounted +by a bonnet bearing no modest sheaf of wheat, but blossoming brazenly +out into lavender roses. The spectacle was too much for Mrs. Wilson. +She dropped her hook, and flew to the door. + +"Well, I've known a good deal, fust an' last, but I never see the beat +o' this! Lucindy, where'd you git that long dress?" + +"It's my cashmere," answered Lucindy, joyously. "I set up last night to +lengthen it down." + +"Well, I should think you did! Lothrop!" + +Her husband had been taking a nap in the sitting-room, and he came out, +rubbing his eyes. Mrs. Wilson could not speak for curiosity. She +watched him with angry intentness. She wondered if he would take +Lucindy's part now! But Lothrop only moved forward and felt at the +girth. + +"You know you want to pull him up if he stumbles," he said; "but I +guess he won't. He was a stiddy horse, fifteen year ago." + +"Lothrop," began his wife, "do you want to be made a laughin'-stock in +this town--" + +"I guess if I've lived in a place over sixty year an' hil' my own, I +can yet," said Lothrop, quietly. "You don't want to ride too long, +Lucindy. You'll be lame to-morrer." + +"I didn't suppose 'twould jounce so," said Lucindy; "but it's proper +nice. I don't know what 'twould be on a real high horse. Well, +good-by!" She turned the horse about, and involuntarily struck him with +her little switch. Old Buckskin broke into a really creditable trot, +and they disappeared down the village street. Lothrop sensibly took his +way down to the shop while his wife was recovering her powers of +speech; and for that, Jane herself mentally commended him. + +Lucindy kept on out of the village and along the country road. The +orioles were singing in the elms, and the leaves still wore the gloss +of last night's shower. The earth smiled like a new creation, very +green and sweet, and the horse's hoofs made music in Lucindy's mind. It +seemed to her that she had lost sight both of youth and crabbed age; +the pendulum stood still in the jarring machinery of time, the hands +pointing to a moment of joy. She was quite happy, as any of us may be +who seek the fellowship of dancing leaves and strong, bright sun. She +turned into a cross-road, hardly wider than a lane, and bordered with +wild rose and fragrant raspberry. There was but one house here,--a +little, time-stained cottage, where Tom McNeil lived with his wife and +five children. Perhaps these were the happiest people in all Tiverton, +though no one but themselves had ever found it out. Tom made shoes in a +desultory fashion, and played the fiddle earnestly all winter, and in +summer, peddled essences and medicines from a pack strapped over his +shoulders. Sometimes in the warm summer weather Molly, his wife, and +all the children tramped with him, so that the house was closed for +weeks at a time,--a thing very trying to the conventional sensibilities +of Tiverton. Tom might have had a "stiddy job o' work" with some of the +farmers; Molly might have helped about the churning and ironing. But +no! they were like the birds, nesting happily in summer, and drawing +their feet under their feathers when the snow drifted in. The +children--lank, wild-eyed creatures--each went to school a few months, +and then stopped, unable to bear the cross of confinement within four +dull walls. They could not write; it was even rumored that they had +never learned to tell time. And, indeed, what good would it have done +them when the clock was run down and stood always at the hour of noon? +But they knew where thoroughwort grows, and the wholesome goldthread; +they gathered cress and peppermint, and could tell the mushroom from +its noisome kindred. Day after day, they roamed the woods for simples +to be distilled by the father, and made into potent salves and +ointments for man and the beasties he loved better. + +When Lucindy came in sight of the house, she was glad to find it open. +She had scarcely gone so far afield for years, and the reports +concerning this strange people had reached her only by hearsay. She +felt like a discoverer. In close neighborhood to the house stood a +peculiar structure,--the half-finished dwelling McNeil had attempted, +in a brief access of ambition, to build with his own hands. The +chimney, slightly curving and very ragged at the top, stood foolishly +above the unfinished lower story. Lucindy remembered hearing how Tom +had begun the chimney first, and built the house round it. But the +fulfilment of his worldly dream never came to pass; and perhaps it was +quite as well, for thereby would the unity of his existence have been +destroyed. He might have lived up to the house; he might even have +grown into a proud man, and accumulated dollars. But the bent of birth +was too much for him. A day dawned, warm and entrancing; he left his +bricks and boards in the midst, and the whole family went joyfully off +on a tramp. To Tiverton, the unfinished house continued to serve as an +immortal joke, and Tom smiled as broadly as any. He always said he +couldn't finish it; he had mislaid the plan. + +A little flower-garden bloomed between the two houses, and on the +grass, by one of its clove-pink borders, sat a woman, rocking back and +forth in an ancient chair, and doing absolutely nothing. She was young, +and seemed all brown; for her eyes were dark, and her skin had been +tanned to the deep, rich tint sweeter to some eyes than pure roses and +milk. Lucindy guided Buckskin up to the gate, and Molly McNeil looked +up and smiled without moving. + +"How do?" she said, in a soft, slow voice. "Won't you come in?" + +Lucindy was delighted. It was long since she had met a stranger. + +"Well, I would," she answered, "but I don't know as I can get down. +This is new business to me." + +"Ellen," called Mrs. McNeil, "you bring out somethin' to step on!" + +A little girl appeared with a yellow kitchen chair. Mrs. McNeil rose, +carried it outside the gate, and planted it by Buckskin's side. + +"There!" she said, "you put your hand on my shoulder and step down. It +won't tip. I've got my knee on it." + +Lucindy alighted, with some difficulty, and drew a long breath. + +"I'll hitch him," said Molly McNeil. "You go in and sit down in that +chair, and Ellen'll bring you a drink of water." + +Ellen was barelegged and barefooted. Her brown hair hung over her dark +eyes in a pleasant tangle. Her even teeth were white, and her lips red. +There was no fault nor blemish in her little face; and when she had +brought the dipper full of water, and stood rubbing one foot against +its neighboring leg, Lucindy thought she had never seen anything so +absolutely bewitching. Molly had hitched the horse, in manly and +knowing fashion, and then seated herself on the kitchen chair beside +Lucindy; but the attitude seemed not to suit her, and presently she +rose and lay quietly down at full length on the grass. She did it quite +as a matter of course, and her visitor thought it looked very pleasant; +possibly she would have tried it herself if she had not been so +absorbed in another interest. She was watching the little girl, who was +running into the house with the dipper. + +"Ain't she complete!" she said. "Your oldest?" + +"She ain't mine at 'all." Mrs. McNeil rose on one elbow, and began +chewing a grass stem. + +It was very restful to Lucindy to see some one who was too much +interested in anything, however trivial, to be interested in her. "You +know about the Italian that come round with the hand-organ last month? +He was her father. Well, he died,--fell off a mow one night,--and the +town sold the hand-organ and kept Ellen awhile on the farm. But she run +away, and my boys found her hidin' in the woods starved most to death. +So I took her in, and the overseer said I was welcome to her. She's a +nice little soul." + +"She's proper good-lookin'!" Lucindy's eyes were sparkling. + +"She don't look as well as common to-day, for the boys went off +plummin' without her. She was asleep, and I didn't want to call her. +She had a cryin' spell when she waked up, but I didn't know which way +they'd gone." + +Ellen came wandering round the side of the house, and Lucindy crooked a +trembling finger at her. + +"Come here!" she called. "You come here and see me!" + +Ellen walked up to her with a steady step, and laid one little brown +hand on Lucindy's knee. But the old Judge's daughter drew the child +covetously to her lap. + +"Look here," she said, "should you like to go home and spend a week +with me?" + +The little maid threw back her tangle of curls, and looked Lucindy +squarely in the eyes. + +"Yes," she answered. + +Lucindy's grasp tightened round her. + +"How should you like to live with me?" + +The child touched her little breast inquiringly with one finger. + +"Me?" She pointed over to Mrs. McNeil, who lay listening and stretching +her limbs in lazy comfort. "Leave _her_?" And then, gravely, "No; she's +good to me." + +Lucindy's heart sank. + +"You could come over to see her," she pleaded, "and I'd come too. We'd +all go plummin' together. I should admire to! And we'd have parties, +and ask 'em all over. What say?" + +The child sat straight and serious, one warm hand clinging to Lucindy's +slender palm. But her eyes still sought the face of her older friend. +Molly McNeil rose to a sitting posture. She took the straw from her +mouth, and spoke with the happy frankness of those who have no fear +because they demand nothing save earth and sky room. + +"I know who you are," she said to Lucindy. "You're left well off, and I +guess you could bring up a child, give you your way. We're as poor as +poverty! You take her, if she'll go. Ellen, she's a nice lady; you +better say 'yes.'" + +Lucindy was trembling all over. + +"You come, dear," she urged, piteously. "You come and live with me." + +Ellen thought a moment more. Then she nodded. + +"I'll come," said she. + +Lucindy could not wait. + +"I'll send a wagon over after her to-night." She had put Ellen down, and +was rising tremblingly. "I won't stop to talk no more now, but you come +and see me, won't you? Now, if you'll help me mount up--there! My! it's +higher 'n 'twas before! Well, I'll see you again." She turned Old +Buckskin's head away from the fence; then she pulled him fiercely round +again. "Here!" she called, "what if she should jump up behind me and +come now!" + +Mrs. McNeil, being the thrall only of the earth, saw no reason, why a +thing should not be done as one wanted it. She lifted; the child and +set her on the horse behind Lucindy. And so, in this strange fashion, +the two entered the high street of Tiverton. + +A few weeks after this, Mrs. Wilson and Lucindy went together to the +little millinery shop. Ellen trotted between them, taking excursions +into the street, now and again, in pursuit of butterflies or +thistledown. When they entered, Miss West, who had seen their approach +from her position at the ironing-board, came forward with a gay little +hat in her hand. It was trimmed with pink, and a wreath of tiny white +flowers clung about the crown. She set it on Ellen's curls; and Ellen, +her face quite radiant, looked up at Miss Lucindy for approval. But +that lady was gazing anxiously at Mrs. Wilson. + +"Now, there ain't anything unsuitable about that, is there?" she asked. +"I know, it's gay, and I want it to be gay. I can tell about _that_! +But is it all right? Is it such as you'd be willin' to have Claribel +wear?" + +"It's a real beauty!" Mrs. Wilson answered, cordially; but she could +not refrain from adding, while Miss West was doing up the hat, and +Ellen surreptitiously tried on a black poke bonnet, "Now, don't you +spile her, Lucindy! She's a nice little girl as ever was, but you ain't +no more fit to bring up a child than the cat!" + +Lucindy did not hear. She was smiling at Ellen, and Ellen smiled back +at her. They thought they knew. + + + + +TOLD IN THE POORHOUSE. + + +"Le' me see," said old Sally Flint, "was it fifty year ago, or was it +on'y forty? Some'er's betwixt 1825 an' '26 it must ha' been when they +were married, an' 'twas in '41 he died." + +The other old women in the Poorhouse sitting-room gathered about her. +Old Mrs. Forbes, who dearly loved a story, unwound a length of yarn +with peculiar satisfaction, and put her worn shoe up to the fire. +Everybody knew when Sally Flint was disposed to open her unwritten book +of folk-tales for the public entertainment; and to-day, having tied on +a fresh apron and bound a new piece of red flannel about her wrist, she +was, so to speak, in fighting trim. The other members of the Poorhouse +had scanty faith in that red flannel. They were aware that Sally had +broken her wrist, some twenty years before, and that the bandage was +consequently donned on days when her "hand felt kind o' cold," or was +"burnin' like fire embers;" but there was an unspoken suspicion that it +really served as token of her inability to work whenever she felt bored +by the prescribed routine of knitting and sweeping. No one had dared +presume on that theory, however, since the day when an untactful +overseer had mentioned it, to be met by such a stream of unpleasant +reminiscence concerning his immediate ancestry that he had retreated in +dismay, and for a week after, had served extra pieces of pie to his +justly offended charge. + +"They were married in June," continued Sally. "No, 'twa'n't; 'twas the +last o' May. May thirty-fust--no, May 'ain't but thirty days, has it?" + +"'Thirty days hath September,'" quoted Mrs. Giles, with importance. +"That's about all I've got left o' my schoolin', Miss Flint. May's got +thirty-one days, sure enough." + +"Call it the thirty-fust, then. It's nigh enough, anyway. Well, Josh +Marden an' Lyddy Ann Crane was married, an' for nine year they lived +like two kittens. Old Sperry Dyer, that wanted to git Lyddy himself, +used to call 'em cup an' sasser, 'There they be,' he'd say, when he +stood outside the meetin'-house door an' they drove up; 'there comes +cup an' sasser.' Lyddy was a little mite of a thing, with great black +eyes; an' if Josh hadn't been as tough as tripe, he'd ha' got all wore +out waitin' on her. He even washed the potaters for her, made the +fires, an' lugged water. Scairt to death if she was sick! She used to +have sick headaches, an' one day he stopped choppin' pine limbs near +the house 'cause the noise hurt Lyddy Ann's head. Another time, I +recollect, she had erysipelas in her face, an' I went in to carry some +elder-blows, an' found him readin' the Bible. 'Lord!' says I, 'Josh; +that's on'y Genesis! 'twon't do the erysipelas a mite o' good for you +to be settin' there reading the be'gats! You better turn to +Revelation.' But 'twa'n't all on his side, nuther. 'Twas give an' take +with them. It used to seem as if Lyddy Ann kind o' worshipped him. +'Josh' we all called him; but she used to say 'Joshuay,' an' look at +him as if he was the Lord A'mighty." + +"My! Sally!" said timid Mrs. Spenser, under her breath; but Sally gave +no heed, and swept on in the stream of her recollections. + +"Well, it went on for fifteen year, an' then 'Mandy Knowles, Josh's +second cousin, come to help 'em with the work. 'Mandy was a queer +creatur'. I've studied a good deal over her, an' I dunno's I've quite +got to the bottom of her yit. She was one o' them sort o' slow women, +with a fat face, an' she hadn't got over dressin' young, though Lyddy +an' the rest of us that was over thirty was wearin' caps an' talkin' +about false fronts. But she never'd had no beaux; an' when Josh begun +to praise her an' say how nice 'twas to have her there, it tickled her +e'en a'most to death. She'd lived alone with her mother an' two +old-maid aunts, an' she didn't know nothin' about men-folks; I al'ays +thought she felt they was different somehow,--kind o' cherubim an' +seraphim,--an' you'd got to mind 'em as if you was the Childern of +Isr'el an' they was Moses. Josh never meant a mite o' harm, I'll say +that for him. He was jest man-like, that's all. There's lots o' +different kinds,--here, Mis' Niles, you know; you've buried your +third,--an' Josh was the kind that can't see more'n, one woman to a +time. He looked at 'Mandy, an' he got over seein' Lyddy Ann, that's +all. Things would ha' come out all right--as right as they be for most +married folks--if Lyddy Ann hadn't been so high-sperited; but she set +the world by Joshuay, an' there 'twas. 'Ain't it nice to have her +here?' he kep' on sayin' over'n' over to Lyddy, an' she'd say 'Yes;' +but byme-by, when she found he was al'ays on hand to bring a pail o' +water for 'Mandy, or to throw away her suds, or even help hang out the +clo'es--I see 'em hangin' out clo'es one day when I was goin' across +their lot huckleberr'in', an' he did look like a great gump, an' so did +she--well, then, Lyddy Ann got to seemin' kind o' worried, an' she had +more sick headaches than ever. Twa'n't a year afore that, I'd been in +one day when she had a headache, an' he says, as if he was perfessin' +his faith in meetin', 'By gum! I wish I could have them headaches for +her!' an' I thought o' speakin' of it, about now, when I run in to +borrer some saleratus, an' he hollered into the bedroom: 'Lyddy Ann, +you got another headache? If I had such a head as that, I'd cut it +off!' An' all the time 'Mandy did act like the very Old Nick, jest as +any old maid would that hadn't set her mind on menfolks till she was +thirty-five. She bought a red-plaid bow an' pinned it on in front, an' +one day I ketched her at the lookin'-glass pullin' out a gray hair. + +"'Land, 'Mandy,' says I (I spoke right up), 'do you pull 'em out as +fast as they come? That's why you ain't no grayer, I s'pose. I was +sayin' the other day, "'Mandy Knowles is gittin' on, but she holds her +own pretty well. I dunno how she manages it, whether she dyes or not,"' +says I. + +"An' afore she could stop herself, 'Mandy turned round, red as a beet, +to look at Josh an' see if he heard. He stamped out into the +wood-house, but Lyddy Ann never took her eyes off her work. Them little +spiteful things didn't seem to make no impression on her. I've thought +a good many times sence, she didn't care how handsome other women was, +nor how scrawny she was herself, if she could on'y keep Josh. An' Josh +he got kind o' fretful to her, an' she to him, an' 'Mandy was all honey +an' cream. Nothin' would do but she must learn how to make the +gingerbread he liked, an' iron his shirts; an' when Lyddy Ann found he +seemed to praise things up jest as much as he had when she done 'em, +she give 'em up, an' done the hard things herself, an' let 'Mandy see +to Josh. She looked pretty pindlin' then, mark my words; but I never +see two such eyes in anybody's head. I s'pose 'twas a change for Josh, +anyway, to be with a woman like 'Mandy, that never said her soul's her +own, for Lyddy'd al'ays had a quick way with her; but, land! you can't +tell about men, what changes 'em or what don't. If you're tied to one, +you've jest got to bear with him, an' be thankful if he don't run some +kind of a rig an' make you town-talk." + +There was a murmur from gentle Lucy Staples, who had been constant for +fifty years to the lover who died in her youth; but no one took any +notice of her, and Sally Flint went on: + +"It come spring, an' somehow or nuther 'Mandy found out the last o' +March was Josh's birthday, an' nothin' would do but she must make him a +present. So she walked over to Sudleigh, an' bought him a great long +pocket-book that you could put your bills into without foldin' 'em, an' +brought it home, tickled to death because she'd been so smart. Some o' +this come out at the time, an' some wa'n't known till arterwards; the +hired man told some, an' a good deal the neighbors see themselves. An' +I'll be whipped if 'Mandy herself didn't tell the heft on't arter 'twas +all over. She wa'n't more'n half baked in a good many things. It got +round somehow that the pocket-book was comin', an' when, I see 'Mandy +walkin' home that arternoon, I ketched up my shawl an' run in behind +her, to borrer some yeast. Nobody thought anything o' birthdays in our +neighborhood, an' mebbe that made it seem a good deal more 'n 'twas; +but when I got in there, I vow I was sorry I come. There set Josh by +the kitchen table, sort o' red an' pleased, with his old pocket-book +open afore him, an' he was puttin' all his bills an' papers into the +new one, an' sayin', every other word,-- + +"'Why, 'Mandy, I never see your beat! Ain't this a nice one, Lyddy?' + +"An' 'Mandy was b'ilin' over with pride, an' she stood there takin' off +her cloud; she'd been in such a hurry to give it to him she hadn't even +got her things off fust. Lyddy stood by the cupboard, lookin' straight +at the glass spoon-holder. I thought arterwards I didn't b'lieve she +see it; an' if she did, I guess she never forgot it. + +"'Yes, it's a real nice one,' says I. + +"I had to say suthin', but in a minute, I was most scairt. Lyddy turned +round, in a kind of a flash; her face blazed all over red, an' her eyes +kind o' went through me. She stepped up to the table, an' took up the +old pocket-book. + +"'You've got a new one,' says she. 'May I have this?' + +"'Course you may,' says he. + +"He didn't look up to see her face, an' her voice was so soft an' +still, I guess he never thought nothin' of it. Then she held the +pocket-book up tight ag'inst her dress waist an' walked off into the +bedroom. I al'ays thought she never knew I was there. An' arterwards it +come out that that old pocket-book was one she'd bought for him afore +they was married,--earned it bindin' shoes." + +"_'Twas_ kind o' hard," owned Mrs. Niles, bending forward, and, with +hands clasped over her knees, peering into the coals for data regarding +her own marital experiences. "But if 'twas all wore out--did you say +'twas wore?--well, then I dunno's you could expect him to set by it. +An' 'twa'n't as if he'd give it away; they'd got it between 'em." + +"I dunno; it's all dark to me," owned Sally Flint. "I guess 'twould +puzzle a saint to explain men-folks, anyway, but I've al'ays thought +they was sort o' numb about some things. Anyway, Josh Marden was. Well, +things went on that way till the fust part o' the summer, an' then they +come to a turnin'-p'int. I s'pose they'd got to, some time, an' it +might jest as well ha' been fust as last. Lyddy Ann was pretty +miserable, an' she'd been dosin' with thoroughwort an' what all when +anybody told her to; but I al'ays thought she never cared a mite +whether she lived to see another spring. The day I'm comin' to, she was +standin' over the fire fryin' fish, an' 'Mandy was sort o' fiddlin' +round, settin' the table, an' not doin' much of anything arter all. I +dunno how she come to be so aggravatin', for she was al'ays ready to do +her part, if she _had_ come between husband an' wife. You know how hard +it is to git a fish dinner! Well, Lyddy Ann was tired enough, anyway. +An' when Josh come in, 'Mandy she took a cinnamon-rose out of her +dress, an' offered it to him. + +"'Here's a flower for your button-hole,' says she, as if she wa'n't +more 'n sixteen. An' then she set down in a chair, an' fanned herself +with a newspaper. + +"Now that chair happened to be Lyddy Ann's at the table, an' she see +what was bein' done. She turned right round, with the fish-platter in +her hand, an' says she, in an awful kind of a voice,-- + +"'You git up out o' my chair! You've took my husband away, but you +sha'n't take my place at the table!' + +"The hired man was there, washin' his hands at the sink, an' he told it +to me jest as it happened. Well, I guess they all thought they was +struck by lightnin', an' Lyddy Ann most of all. Josh he come to, fust. +He walked over to Lyddy Ann. + +"'You put down that platter!' says he. An' she begun to tremble, an' +set it down. + +"I guess they thought there was goin' to be murder done, for 'Mandy +busted right out cryin' an' come runnin' over to me, an' the hired man +took a step an' stood side o' Lyddy Ann. He was a little mite of a man, +Cyrus was, but he wouldn't ha' stood no violence. + +"Josh opened the door that went into the front entry, an' jest p'inted. +'You walk in there,' he says, 'an' you stay there. That's your half o' +the house, an' this is mine. Don't you dast to darken my doors!' + +"Lyddy Ann she walked through the entry an' into the fore-room, an' he +shet the door." + +"I wouldn't ha' done it!" snorted old Mrs. Page, who had spent all her +property in lawsuits over a right of way. "Ketch me!" + +"You would if you'd 'a' been Lyddy Ann!" said Sally Flint, with an +emphatic nod. Then she continued: "I hadn't more'n heard 'Mandy's story +afore I was over there; but jest as I put my foot on the door-sill, +Josh he come for'ard to meet me. + +"'What's wanted?' says he. An' I declare for't I was so scairt I jest +turned round an' cut for home. An' there set 'Mandy, wringin' her +hands. + +"'What be I goin' to do?' says she, over 'n' over. 'Who ever'd ha' +thought o' this?' + +"'The thing for you to do,' says I, 'is to go, straight home to your +mother, an' I'll harness up an' carry you. Don't you step your foot +inside that house ag'in. Maybe ma'am will go over an' pack up your +things. You've made mischief enough.' So we got her off that +arter-noon, an' that was an end of _her_. + +"I never could see what made Josh think so quick that day. We never +thought he was brighter 'n common; but jest see how in that flash o' +bein' mad with Lyddy Ann he'd planned out what would be most wormwood +for her! He gi'n her the half o' the house she'd furnished herself with +hair-cloth chairs an' a whatnot, but 'twa'n't the part that was fit to +be lived in. She stayed pretty close for three or four days, an' I +guess she never had nothin' to eat. It made me kind o' sick to think of +her in there settin' on her hair-cloth sofy, an' lookin' at her wax +flowers an' the coral on the what-not, an' thinkin' what end she'd +made. It was of a Monday she was sent in there, an' Tuesday night I +slipped over an' put some luncheon on the winder-sill; but 'twas there +the next day, an' Cyrus see the old crower fly up an' git it. An' that +same Tuesday mornin', Josh had a j'iner come an' begin a partition +right straight through the house. It was all rough boards, like a high +fence, an' it cut the front entry in two, an' went right through the +kitchen--so't the kitchen stove was one side on't, an' the sink the +other. Lyddy Ann's side had the stove. I was glad o' that, though I +s'pose she 'most had a fit every day to think o' him tryin' to cook +over the airtight in the settin'-room. Seemed kind o' queer to go to +the front door, too, for you had to open it wide an' squeeze round the +partition to git into Lyddy Ann's part, an' a little mite of a crack +would let you into Josh's. But they didn't have many callers. It was a +good long while afore anybody dared to say a word to her; an' as for +Josh, there wa'n't nobody that cared about seein' him but the +tax-collector an' pedlers. + +"Well, the trouble Josh took to carry out that mad fit! He split wood +an' laid it down at Lyddy Ann's door, an' he divided the eggs an' milk, +an' shoved her half inside. He bought her a separate barrel o' flour, +an' all the groceries he could think on; they said he laid money on her +winder-sill. But, take it all together, he was so busy actin' like a +crazed one that he never got his 'taters dug till 'most time for the +frost. Lyddy Ann she never showed her head among the neighbors ag'in. +When she see she'd got to stay there, she begun to cook for herself; +but one day, one o' the neighbors heard her pleadin' with Josh, out in +the cow-yard, while he was milkin'. + +"'O Joshuay,' she kep' a-sayin' over 'n' over, 'you needn't take me +back, if you'll on'y let me do your work! You needn't speak to me, an' +I'll live in the other part; but I shall be crazy if you don't let me +do your work. O Joshuay! O Joshuay!' She cried an' cried as if her +heart would break, but Josh went on milkin', an' never said a word. + +"I s'pose she thought he'd let her, the old hunks, for the next day, +she baked some pies an' set 'em on the table in his part. She reached +in through the winder to do it. But that night, when Josh come home, he +hove 'em all out into the back yard, an' the biddies eat 'em up. The +last time I was there, I see them very pieces o' pie-plate, white an' +blue-edged, under the syringa bush. Then she kind o' give up hope. I +guess--But no! I'm gittin' ahead o' my story. She did try him once +more. Of course his rooms got to lookin' like a hog's nest--" + +"My! I guess when she see him doin' his own washin', she thought the +pocket-book was a small affair," interpolated Mrs. Niles. + +"She used to go round peerin' into his winders when he wa'n't there, +an' one day, arter he'd gone off to trade some steers, she jest spunked +up courage an' went in an' cleaned all up. I see the bed airin', an' +went over an' ketched her at it. She hadn't more'n got through an' +stepped outside when Josh come home, an' what should he do but take the +wheelbarrer an', beat out as he was drivin' oxen five mile, go down to +the gravel-pit an' get a barrerful o' gravel. He wheeled it up to the +side door, an' put a plank over the steps, an' wheeled it right in. An' +then he dumped it in the middle o' his clean floor. That was the last +o' her tryin' to do for him on the sly. + +"I should ha' had some patience with him if 'twa'n't for one thing he +done to spite her. Seemed as if he meant to shame her that way afore +the whole neighborhood. He wouldn't speak to her himself, but he sent a +painter by trade to tell her he was goin' to paint the house, an' to +ask her what color she'd ruther have. The painter said she acted sort +o' wild, she was so pleased. She told him yaller; an' Josh had him go +right to work on't next day. But he had her half painted yaller, an' +his a kind of a drab, I guess you'd call it. He sold a piece o' ma'sh +to pay for't. Dr. Parks said you might as well kill a woman with a +hatchet, as the man did down to Sudleigh, as put her through such +treatment. My! ain't it growin' late? Here, let me set back by the +winder. I want to see who goes by, to-day. An' I'll cut my story short. + +"Well, they lived jest that way. Lyddy Ann she looked like an old +woman, in a month or two. She looked every minute as old as you do, +Mis' Gridley. Ain't you sixty-nine? Well, she wa'n't but thirty-six. +Her hair turned gray, an' she was all stooped over. Sometimes I thought +she wa'n't jest right. I used to go in to see if she'd go coltsfootin' +with me, or plummin'; but she never'd make me no answer. I recollect +two things she said. One day, she set rockin' back'ards an' for'ards in +a straight chair, holdin' her hands round her knees, an' she says,-- + +"'I 'ain't got no pride, Sally Flint! I 'ain't got no pride!' + +"An' once she looked up kind o' pitiful an' says, 'Ain't it queer I +can't die?' But, poor creatur', I never thought she knew what she was +sayin'. She'd ha' been the last one to own she wa'n't contented if +she'd had any gover'ment over her words. + +"Well, Josh he'd turned the hired man away because he couldn't do for +him over the airtight stove, an' he got men to help him by days' works. +An' through the winter, he jest set over the fire an' sucked his claws, +an' thought how smart he was. But one day 'twas awful cold, an' we'd +been tryin' out lard, an' the fat ketched fire, an' everything was all +up in arms, anyway. Cyrus he was goin' by Josh's, an' he didn't see no +smoke from the settin'-room stove. So he jest went to the side door an' +walked in, an' there set Josh in the middle o' the room. Couldn't move +hand nor foot! Cyrus didn't stop for no words, but he run over to our +house, hollerin', 'Josh Harden's got a stroke!' An' ma'am left the +stove all over fat an' run, an' I arter her, I guess Lyddy Ann must ha' +seen us comin', for we hadn't more'n got into the settin'-room afore +she was there. The place was cold as a barn, an' it looked like a +hurrah's nest. Josh never moved, but his eyes follered her when she +went into the bedroom to spread up the bed. + +"'You help me, Cyrus,' says she, kind, o' twittery-like, but calm. +'We'll carry him in here. I can lift.' + +"But our men-folks got there jest about as they was tryin' to plan how +to take him, an' they h'isted him onto the bed. Cyrus harnessed up our +horse an' went after Dr. Parks, an' by the time he come, we'd got the +room so's to look decent. An'--if you'll b'lieve it! Lyddy Ann was in +the bedroom tryin' to warm Josh up an' make him take some hot drink; +but when I begun to sweep up, an' swop towards that gravel-pile in the +middle o' the floor, she come hurryin' up, all out o' breath. She +ketched the broom right out o' my hand. + +"I'll sweep, byme-by,' says she. 'Don't you touch that gravel, none on +ye!' An' so the gravel laid there, an' we walked round it, watchers an' +all. + +"She wouldn't have no watcher in his bedroom, though; she was +determined to do everything but turn him an' lift him herself, but +there was al'ays one or two settin' round to keep the fires goin' an' +make sure there was enough cooked up. I swan, I never see a woman so +happy round a bed o' sickness as Lyddy Ann was! She never made no fuss +when Josh was awake, but if he shet his eyes, she'd kind o' hang over +the bed an' smooth the clo'es as if they was kittens, an' once I +ketched her huggin' up the sleeve of his old barn coat that hung +outside the door. If ever a woman made a fool of herself over a man +that wa'n't wuth it, 'twas Lyddy Ann Marden! + +"Well, Josh he hung on for a good while, an' we couldn't make out +whether he had his senses or not. He kep' his eyes shet most o' the +time; but when Lyddy Ann's back was turned, he seemed to know it +somehow, an' he'd open 'em an' foller her all round the room. But he +never spoke. I asked the doctor about it. + +"'Can't he speak, doctor?' says I. 'He can move that hand a leetle +to-day. Don't you s'pose he could speak, if he'd a mind to?' + +"The doctor he squinted up his eyes--he al'ays done that when he didn't +want to answer--an' he says,-- + +"'I guess he's thinkin' on't over.' + +"But one day, Lyddy Ann found she was all beat out, an' she laid down +in the best bedroom an' went to sleep. I set with Josh. I was narrerin' +off, but when I looked up, he was beckonin' with his well hand. I got +up, an' went to the bed. + +"'Be you dry?' says I. He made a little motion, an' then he lifted his +hand an' p'inted out into the settin'-room. + +"Do you want Lyddy Ann?' says I. 'She's laid down.' No, he didn't want +her. I went to the settin'-room door an' looked out, an'--I dunno how +'twas--it all come to me. + +"'Is it that gravel-heap?' says I. 'Do you want it carried off, an' the +floor swop up?' An' he made a motion to say 'Yes.' I called Cyrus, an' +we made short work o' that gravel. When, I'd took up the last mite +on't, I went back to the bed. + +"'Josh Marden,' says I, 'can you speak, or can't you?' But he shet his +eyes, an' wouldn't say a word. + +"When Lyddy Ann come out, I told her what he'd done, an' then she did +give way a little mite. Two tears come out o' her eyes, an' jest rolled +down her cheeks, but she didn't give up to 'em. + +"'Sally,' says she, sort o' peaceful, 'I guess I'll have a cup o' tea.' + +"Well, there was times when we thought Josh would git round ag'in, if +he didn't have another stroke. I dunno whether he did have another or +not, but one night, he seemed to be sort o' sinkin' away. Lyddy Ann she +begun to turn white, an' she set down by him an' rubbed his sick hand. +He looked at her,--fust time he had, fair an' square,--an' then he +begun to wobble his lips round an' make a queer noise with 'em. She put +her head down, an' then she says, 'Yes, Joshuay! yes, dear!' An' she +got up an' took the pocket-book 'Mandy had gi'n him off the top o' the +bureau, an' laid it down on the bed where he could git it. But he shook +his head, an' said the word ag'in, an' a queer look--as if she was +scairt an' pleased--flashed over Lyddy Ann's face. She run into the +parlor, an' come back with that old pocket-book he'd give up to her, +an' she put it into his well hand. That was what he wanted. His fingers +gripped it up, an' he shet his eyes. He never spoke ag'in. He died that +night." + +"I guess she died, too!" said Lucy Staples, under her breath, +stealthily wiping a tear from her faded cheek. + +"No, she didn't, either!" retorted Sally Flint, hastily, getting up to +peer from the window down the country road. "She lived a good many +year, right in that very room he'd drove her out on, an' she looked as +if she owned the airth. I've studied on it consid'able, an' I al'ays +s'posed 'twas because she'd got him, an' that was all she cared for. +There's the hearse now, an' two carriages, step an' step." + +"Land! who's dead?" exclaimed Mrs. Forbes, getting up in haste, while +her ball rolled unhindered to the other end of the room. + +"It's Lyddy Ann Marden," returned Sally Flint, with the triumphant +quiet of one first at the goal. "I see it this mornin' in the 'County +Democrat,' when I was doin' up my wrist, an' you was all so busy." + + + + +HEMAN'S MA. + + +It was half-past nine of a radiant winter's night, and the Widder +Poll's tooth still ached, though she was chewing cloves, and had +applied a cracker poultice to her cheek. She was walking back and forth +through the great low-studded kitchen, where uncouth shadows lurked and +brooded, still showing themselves ready to leap aloft with any +slightest motion of the flames that lived behind the old black +fire-dogs. At every trip across the room, she stopped to look from the +window into the silver paradise without, and at every glance she +groaned, as if groaning were a duty. The kitchen was unlighted save by +the fire and one guttering candle; but even through such inadequate +illumination the Widder Poll was a figure calculated to stir rich +merriment in a satirical mind. Her contour was rather square than +oblong, and she was very heavy. In fact, she had begun to announce that +her ankles wouldn't bear her much longer, and she should "see the day +when she'd have to set by, from mornin' to night, like old Anrutty +Green that had the dropsy so many years afore she was laid away." Her +face, also, was cut upon the broadest pattern in common use, and her +small, dull eyes and closely shut mouth gave token of that firmness +which, save in ourselves, we call obstinacy. To-night, however, her +features were devoid of even their wonted dignity, compressed, as they +had been, by the bandage encircling her face. She looked like a +caricature of her unprepossessing self. On one of her uneasy journeys +to the window, she caught the sound of sleigh-bells; and staying only +to assure herself of their familiar ring, she hastily closed the +shutter, and, going back to the fireplace, sank into a chair there, and +huddled over the blaze. The sleigh drove slowly into the yard, and +after the necessary delay of unharnessing, a man pushed open the side +door, and entered the kitchen. He, too, was short and square of build, +though he had no superfluous flesh. His ankles would doubtless continue +to bear him for many a year to come. His face was but slightly +accented; he had very thin eyebrows, light hair, and only a shaggy +fringe of whisker beneath the chin. This was Heman Blaisdell, the +Widder Poll's brother-in-law, for whom she had persistently kept house +ever since the death of his wife, four years ago. He came in without +speaking, and after shaking himself out of his great-coat, sat silently +down in his armchair by the fire. The Widder Poll held both hands to +her face, and groaned again. At length, curiosity overcame her, and, +quite against her judgment, she spoke. She was always resolving that +she would never again take the initiative; but every time her +resolution went down before the certainty that if she did not talk, +there would be no conversation at all,--for Heman had a staying power +that was positively amazing. + +"Well?" she began, interrogatively. + +Heman only stirred slightly in his chair. + +"_Well!_ ain't you goin' to tell me what went on at the meetin'?" + +Her quarry answered patiently, yet with a certain dogged resistance of +her,-- + +"I dunno's there's anything to tell." + +"How'd it go off?" + +"'Bout as usual." + +"Did you speak?" + +"No." + +"Lead in prayer?" + +"No." + +"Wa'n't you _asked_?" + +"No." + +"Well, my soul! Was Roxy Cole there?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you fetch her home?" + +"No, I didn't!" Some mild exasperation animated his tone at last. The +Widder detected it, and occupied herself with her tooth. + +"My soul an' body! I wonder if it's goin' to grumble all night long!" +she exclaimed, bending lower over the blaze. "I've tried everything but +a roasted raisin, an' I b'lieve I shall come to that." + +Heman rose, and opened the clock on the mantel; he drew forth the key +from under the pendulum, and slowly wound up the time-worn machinery. +In another instant, he would be on his way to bed; the Widder knew she +must waste no time in hurt silence, if she meant to find out anything. +She began hastily,-- + +"Did they say anything about the church fair?" + +"They ain't goin' to have it." + +"Not have it! Well, how _be_ they goin' to git the shinglin' paid for?" + +"They've got up the idee of an Old Folks' Concert." + +"Singin'?" + +"Singin' an' playin'." + +"Who's goin' to play?" + +"Brad Freeman an' Jont Marshall agreed to play fust an' second fiddle." +Heman paused a moment, and straightened himself with an air of +conscious pride; then he added,-- + +"They've asked me to play the bass-viol." + +The Widder had no special objections to this arrangement, but it did +strike her as an innovation; and when she had no other reason for +disapproval, she still believed in it on general principles. So +altogether effective a weapon should never rust from infrequent use! + +"Well!" she announced. "I never heard of such carryin's-on,--never!" + +Heman was lighting a small kerosene lamp. The little circle of light +seemed even brilliant in the dusky room; it affected him with a relief +so sudden and manifest as to rouse also a temporary irritation at +having endured the previous gloom even for a moment. + +"'Ain't you got no oil in the house?" he exclaimed, testily. "I wish +you'd light up, evenin's, an' not set here by one taller candle!" + +He had ventured on this remonstrance before, the only one he permitted +himself against his housekeeper's ways, and at the instant of making +it, he realized its futility. + +"The gre't lamp's all full," said the Widder, warming her apron and +pressing it to her poulticed face. "You can light it, if you've got the +heart to. That was poor Mary's lamp, an' hard as I've tried, I never +could bring myself to put a match to that wick. How many evenin's I've +seen her set by it, rockin' back'ards an' for'ards,--an' her needle +goin' in an' out! She was a worker, if ever there was one, poor +creatur'! At it all the time, jes' like a silk-worm." + +Heman was perfectly familiar with this explanation; from long +repetition, he had it quite by heart. Possibly that was why he did not +wait for its conclusion, but tramped stolidly away to his bedroom, +where he had begun to kick off his shoes by the time his sister-in-law +reached a period. + +The Widder had a fresh poultice waiting by the fire. She applied it to +her cheek, did up her face in an old flannel petticoat, and then, +having covered the fire, toiled up to bed. It was a wearisome journey, +for she carried a heavy soapstone which showed a tendency to conflict +with the candle, and she found it necessary to hold together most of +her garments; these she had "loosened a mite by the fire," according to +custom on cold nights, after Heman had left her the field. + +Next day, Heman went away into the woods chopping, and carried his +dinner of doughnuts and cheese, with a chunk of bean-porridge frozen +into a ball, to be thawed out by his noontime fire. He returned much +earlier than usual, and the Widder was at the window awaiting him. The +swelling in her cheek had somewhat subsided; and the bandage, no longer +distended by a poultice beneath, seemed, in comparison, a species of +holiday device. She was very impatient. She watched Heman, as he went +first to the barn; and even opened the back door a crack to listen for +the rattling of chains, the signal of feeding or watering. + +"What's he want to do that now for?" she muttered, closing the door +again, as the cold struck her cheek. "He'll have to feed 'em ag'in, +come night!" + +But at last he came, and, according to his silent wont, crossed the +kitchen to the sink, to wash his hands. He was an unobservant man, and +it did not occur to him that the Widder had on her Tycoon rep, the gown +she kept "for nice." Indeed, he was so unused to looking at her that he +might well have forgotten her outward appearance. He was only sure of +her size; he knew she cut off a good deal of light. One sign, however, +he did recognize; she was very cheerful, with a hollow good-nature +which had its meaning. + +"I got your shavin'-water all ready," she began. "Don't you burn ye +when ye turn it out." + +It had once been said of the Widder Poll that if she could hold her +tongue, the devil himself couldn't get ahead of her. But fortune had +not gifted her with such endurance, and she always spoke too often and +too soon. + +"Brad Freeman's been up here," she continued, eying Heman, as she drew +out the supper-table and put up the leaves. "I dunno's I ever knew +anybody so took up as he is with that concert, an' goin' to the vestry +to sing to-night, an' all. He said he'd call here an' ride 'long o' +you, an' I told him there'd be plenty o' room, for you'd take the +pung." + +If Heman felt any surprise at her knowledge of his purpose, he did not +betray it. He poured out his shaving-water, and looked about him for an +old newspaper. + +"I ain't goin' in the pung," he answered, without glancing at her. "The +shoe's most off'n one o' the runners now." + +The Widder Poll set a pie on the table with an emphasis unconsciously +embodying her sense that now, indeed, had come the time for remedies. + +"I dunno what you can take," she remarked, with that same foreboding +liveliness. "Three on a seat, an' your bass-viol, too!" + +Heman was lathering his cheeks before the mirror, where a sinuous Venus +and a too-corpulent Cupid disported themselves in a green landscape +above the glass. "There ain't goin' to be three," he said, patiently. +"T'others are goin' by themselves." + +The Widder took up her stand at a well-chosen angle, and looked at him +in silence. He paid no attention to her, and it was she who, of +necessity, broke into speech. + +"_Well!_ I've got no more to say. Do you mean to tell me you'd go off +playin' on fiddles an' bass-viols, an' leave me, your own wife's +sister, settin' here the whole evenin' long, all swelled up with the +toothache?" + +Heman often felt that he had reached a state of mind where nothing +could surprise him, but this point of view was really unexpected. He +decided, however, with some scorn, that the present misunderstanding +might arise from a confusion of terms in the feminine mind. + +"This ain't the concert," he replied, much as if she had proposed going +to the polls. "It's the rehearsal. That means where you play the tunes +over. The concert ain't comin' off for a month." + +And now the Widder Poll spoke with the air of one injured almost beyond +reparation. + +"I'd like to know what difference that makes! If a man's goin' where he +can't take his womenfolks, I say he'd better stay to home! an' if +there's things goin' on there't you don't want me to git hold of, I +tell you, Heman Blaisdell, you'd better by half stop shavin' you now, +an' take yourself off to bed at seven o'clock! Traipsin' round playin' +the fiddle at your age! Ain't I fond o' music?" + +"No, you ain't!" burst forth Heman, roused to brief revolt where his +beloved instrument was concerned. "You don't know Old Hunderd from +Yankee Doodle!" + +The Widder walked round the table and confronted him as he was turning +away from the glass, shaving-mug in hand. + +"You answer me one question! I know who's goin' to be there, an' set in +the chorus an' sing alto. Brad Freeman told me, as innercent as a lamb. +Heman Blaisdell, you answer me? Be you goin' to bring anybody here to +this house, an' set her in poor Mary's place? If you be, I ought to be +the fust one to know it." + +Heman looked at the shaving-mug for a moment, as if he contemplated +dashing it to the floor. Then he tightened his grasp on it, like one +putting the devil behind him. + +"No, I ain't," he said, doggedly, adding under his breath, "not unless +I'm drove to 't." + +"I dunno who could ha' done more," said the Widder, so patently with +the air of continuing for an indefinite period that Heman reached up +for his hat. "Where you goin'? Mercy sakes alive! don't you mean to eat +no supper, now I've got it all ready?" + +But Heman pushed his way past her and escaped, muttering something +about "feedin' the critters." Perhaps the "critters" under his care +were fed oftener than those on farms where the ingle-nook was at least +as cosey as the barn. + +These slight skirmishes always left Heman with an uneasy sense that +somehow he also must be to blame, though he never got beyond wondering +what could have been done to avert the squall. When he went back into +the kitchen, however,--the "critters" fed, and his own nerves soothed +by pitchforking the haymow with the vigor of one who assaults a +citadel,--he was much relieved at finding the atmosphere as clear as +usual; and as the early twilight drew on, he became almost happy at +thought of; the vivid pleasure before him. Never, since his wife died, +had he played his bass-viol in public; but he had long been in the +habit of "slying off" upstairs to it, as to a tryst with lover or +friend whom the world denied. The Widder Poll, though she heard it +wailing and droning thence, never seriously objected to it; the +practice was undoubtedly "shaller," but it kept him in the house. + +They ate supper in silence; and then, while she washed the dishes, +Heman changed his clothes, and went to the barn to harness. He stood +for a moment, irresolute, when the horse was ready, and then backed him +into the old blue pung. A queer little smile lurked at the corners of +his mouth. + +"I guess the shoe'll go once more," he muttered. "No, I ain't goin' to +marry ag'in! I said I ain't, an' I ain't. But I guess I can give a +neighbor a lift, if I want to!" + +Brad Freeman was waiting near the tack door when Heman led the horse +out of the barn. He was lank and lean, and his thick red hair strayed +low over the forehead. His army overcoat was rent here and there beyond +the salvation which lay in his wife's patient mending, and his old fur +cap showed the skin in moth-eaten patches; yet Heman thought, with a +wondering protest, how young he looked, how free from care. + +"Hullo, Heman!" called Brad. + +"How are ye?" responded Heman, with a cordiality Brad never failed to +elicit from his brother man. + +Heman left the horse standing, and opened the back door. + +He stopped short. An awful vision confronted him,--the Widder Poll, +clad not only in the Tycoon rep, but her best palm-leaf shawl, her +fitch tippet, and pumpkin hood; her face was still bandaged, and her +head-gear had been enwound by a green _barège_ veil. She stepped +forward with an alertness quite unusual in one so accustomed to +remembering her weight of mortal flesh. + +"Here!" she called, "you kind o' help me climb in. I ain't so spry as I +was once. You better give me a real boost. But, land! I mustn't talk. I +wouldn't git a mite of air into that tooth for a dollar bill." + +Heman stepped into the house for his bass-viol, and brought it out with +an extremity of tender care; he placed it, enveloped in its green baize +covering, in the bottom of the pung. Some ludicrous association between +the baize and the green _barège_ veil struck Brad so forcibly that he +gave vent to a chuckle, sliding cleverly into a cough. He tried to meet +Heman's eye, but Heman only motioned him to get in, and took his own +place without a word. Brad wondered if he could be ill; his face had +grown yellowish in its pallor, and he seemed to breathe heavily. + +Midway in their drive to the vestry, they passed a woman walking +briskly along in the snowy track. She was carrying her singing-books +under one arm, and holding her head high with that proud lift which had +seemed, more than anything else, to keep alive her girlhood's charm. + +"There's Roxy," said Brad. "Here, Heman, you let me jump out, an' you +give her a lift." But Heman looked straight before him, and drove on. + +By the time they entered Tiverton Street, the vestry was full of +chattering groups. Heman was the last to arrive. He made a long job of +covering the horse, inside the shed, resolved that nothing should tempt +him to face the general mirth at the Widder's entrance. For he could +not deceive himself as to the world's amused estimate of her +guardianship and his submission. He had even withdrawn from the School +Board, where he had once been proud to figure, because, entering the +schoolroom one day at recess, he had seen, on a confiscated slate at +the teacher's desk, a rough caricature representing "Heman and his Ma." +The Ma was at least half the size of the slate, while Heman was +microscopic; but, alas! his inflamed consciousness found in both a +resemblance which would mightily have surprised the artist. He felt +that if he ever saw another testimony of art to his unworthiness, he +might commit murder. + +When he did muster courage to push open the vestry door, the Widder +Poll sat alone by the stove, still unwinding her voluminous wrappings, +and the singers had very pointedly withdrawn by themselves. Brad and +Jont had begun to tune their fiddles, and the first prelusive snapping +of strings at once awakened Heman's nerves to a pleasant tingling; he +was excited at the nearness of the coming joy. He drew a full breath +when it struck home to him, with the warm certainty of a happy truth, +that if he did not look at her, even the Widder Poll could hardly spoil +his evening. Everybody greeted him with unusual kindliness, though some +could not refrain from coupling their word with a meaning glance at the +colossal figure near the stove. One even whispered,-- + +"She treed ye, didn't she, Heman?" + +He did not trust himself to answer, but drew the covering from his own +treasure, and began his part of the delicious snapping and screwing. + +"Where's Roxy?" called Jont Marshall "Can't do without her alto. +Anybody seen her?" + +Roxy was really very late, and Heman could not help wondering whether +she had delayed in starting because she had expected a friendly +invitation to ride, "All right," he reflected, bitterly. "She must get +used to it." + +The door opened, and Roxy came in. She had been walking fast, and her +color was high. Heman stole one glance at her, under cover of the +saluting voices. She was forty years old, yet her hair had not one +silver thread, and at that instant of happy animation, she looked +strikingly like her elder sister, to whom Heman used to give lozenges +when they were boy and girl together, and who died in India. Then Roxy +took her place, and Heman bent over his bass-viol. The rehearsal began. +Heman forgot all about his keeper sitting by the stove, as the old, +familiar tunes swelled up in the little room, and one antique phrase +after another awoke nerve-cells all unaccustomed nowadays to thrilling. +He could remember just when he first learned The Mellow Horn, and how +his uncle, the sailor, had used to sing it. "Fly like a youthful hart +or roe!" Were there spices still left on the hills of life? Ah, but +only for youth to smell and gather! Boldly, with a happy bravado, the +choir sang,-- + + "The British yoke, the Gallic chain, + Were placed upon our necks in vain!" + +And then came the pious climax of Coronation, America, and the +Doxology. Above the tumult of voices following the end of rehearsal, +some one announced the decision to meet on Wednesday night; and Heman, +his bass-viol again in its case, awoke, and saw the Widder putting on +her green veil. Rosa Tolman nudged her intimate friend, Laura Pettis, +behind Heman's back, and whispered,-- + +"I wonder if she's had a good time! There 'ain't been a soul for her to +speak to, the whole evenin' long!" + +The other girl laughed, with a delicious sense of fun in the situation, +and Heman recoiled; the sound was like a blow in the face. + +"Say, Heman," said Brad, speaking in his ear. "I guess I'll walk home, +so't you can take in Roxy." + +But Heman had bent his head, and was moving along with the rest, like a +man under a burden. + +"No," said he, drearily. "I can't. You come along." + +His tone was quite conclusive; and Brad, albeit wondering, said no +more. The three packed themselves into the pung, and drove away. Heman +was conscious of some dull relief in remembering that he need not pass +Roxy again on the road, for he heard her voice ring out clearly from a +group near the church. He wondered if anybody would go home with her, +and whether she minded the dark "spell o' woods" by the river. No +matter! It was of no use. She must get used to her own company. + +The Widder was almost torpid from her long sojourn by the stove; but +the tingling air roused her at last, and she spoke, though mumblingly, +remembering her tooth,-- + +"Proper nice tunes, wa'n't they? Was most on 'em new?" + +But Brad could not hear, and left it for Heman to answer; and Heman +gave his head a little restive shake, and said, "No." At his own gate, +he stopped. + +"I guess I won't car' you down home," he said to Brad. + +It was only a stone's-throw, Brad hesitated. + +"No, I, didn't mean for ye to," answered he, "but I'll stop an' help +unharness." + +"No," said Heman, gently. "You better not. I'd ruther do it." Even a +friendly voice had become unbearable in his ears. + +So, Brad, stepped down, lifted out his fiddle-case, and said +good-night. Heman drove into the yard, and stopped before the kitchen +door. He took the reins in one hand, and held out the other to the +Widder. + +"You be a mite careful o' your feet," he said. "That bass-viol slipped +a little for'ard when we come down Lamson's Hill." + +She rose ponderously. She seemed to sway and hesitate; then she set one +foot cautiously forward in the pung. There was a rending, crash. The +Widder Poll had stepped into the bass-viol. She gave a little scream; +and plunged forward. + +"My foot's ketched!" she cried. "Can't you help me out?" + +Heman dropped the reins; he put his hands on her arms, and pulled her +forward. He never knew whether she reached the ground on her feet or +her knees. Then he pushed past her, where she floundered, and lifted +out his darling. He carried it into the kitchen, and lighted the +candle, with trembling hands. He drew back the cover. The bass-viol had +its mortal wound; he could have laid both fists into the hole. He +groaned. + +"My God Almighty!" he said aloud. + +The Widder Poll had stumbled into the room. She threw back her green +veil, and her face shone ivory white under its shadow; her small eyes +were starting. She looked like a culprit whom direst vengeance had +overtaken at last. At the sound of her step, Heman lifted his hurt +treasure, carried it tenderly into his bedroom, and shut the door upon +it. He turned about, and walked past her out of the house. The Widder +Poll followed him, wringing her mittened hands. + +"O Heman!" she cried, "don't you look like that! Oh, you'll do yourself +some mischief, I know you will!" + +But Heman had climbed into the pung, and given Old Gameleg a vicious +cut. Swinging out of the yard they went; and the Widder Poll ran after +until, just outside the gate, she reflected that she never could +overtake him and that her ankles were weak; then she returned to the +house, groaning. + +Heman was conscious of one thought only: if any man had come home with +Roxy, he should kill him with his own hands. He drove on, almost to the +vestry, and found no trace of her. He turned about, and, retracing his +way, stopped at her mother's gate, left Old Gameleg, and strode into +the yard. There was no light in the kitchen, and only a glimmer in the +chamber above. Heman went up to the kitchen door and knocked. The +chamber window opened. + +"Who is it?" asked Mrs. Cole. "Why, that you, Heman? Anybody sick?" + +"Where's Roxy?" returned Heman, as if he demanded her at the point of +the bayonet. + +"Why, she's been abed as much as ten minutes. The Tuckers brought her +home." + +"You tell her to come here! I want to see her." + +"What! down there? Law, Heman! you come in the mornin'. She'll ketch +her death o' cold gittin' up an' dressin', now she's got all warmed +through." + +"What's he want, mother?" came Roxy's clear voice from within the room. +"That's Heman Blaisdell's voice." + +"Roxy, you come down here!" called Heman, masterfully. + +There was a pause, during which Mrs. Cole was apparently pulled away +from the window. Then Roxy, her head enveloped in a shawl, appeared in +her mother's place. + +"Well!" she said, impatiently. "What is it?" + +Heman's voice found a pleading level. + +"Roxy, will you marry me?" + +"Why, Heman, you 're perfectly ridiculous! At this time o' night, too!" + +"You answer me!" cried Heman, desperately. "I want you! Won't you have +me, Roxy? Say?" + +"Roxy!" came her mother's muffled voice from the bed. "You'll git your +death o' cold. What's he want? Can't you give him an answer an' let him +go?" + +"Won't you, Roxy?" called Heman. "Oh, won't you?" + +Roxy began to laugh hysterically. "Yes," she said, and shut the window. + +When Heman had put up the horse, he walked into the kitchen, and +straight up to the Widder Poll, who stood awaiting him, clinging to the +table by one fat hand. + +"Now, look here!" he said, good-naturedly, speaking to her with a +direct address he had not been able to use for many a month, "You +listen to me. I don't want any hard feelin', but to-morrer mornin' +you've got to pick up your things an' go. You can have the house down +to the Holler, or you can go out nussin', but you come here by your own +invitation, an' you've got to leave by mine. I'm goin' to be married as +soon as I can git a license." Then he walked to the bedroom, and shut +himself in with his ruined bass-viol and the darkness. + +And the Widder Poll did not speak. + + + * * * * * + +There are very few cosey evenings when Heman and Roxy do not smile at +each other across the glowing circle of their hearth, and ask, the one +or the other, with a perplexity never to be allayed,-- + +"Do you s'pose she tumbled, or did she put her foot through it +a-purpose?" + +But Heman is sure to conclude the discussion with a glowing tribute to +Brad Freeman, his genius and his kindliness. + +"I never shall forgit that o' Brad," he announces. "There wa'n't +another man in the State o' New Hampshire could ha' mended it as he +did. Why, you never'd know there was a brack in it!" + + + + +HEARTSEASE. + + "For as for heartsease, it groweth in a single night." + + +"What be you doin' of, Mis' Lamson?" asked Mrs. Pettis, coming in from +the kitchen, where she had been holding a long conversation with young +Mrs. Lamson on the possibility of doing over sugar-barberry. Mrs. +Pettis was a heavy woman, bent almost double with rheumatism, and she +carried a baggy umbrella for a cane. She was always sighing over the +difficulty of "gittin' round the house," but nevertheless she made more +calls than any one else in the neighborhood. "It kind o' limbered her +up," she said, "to take a walk after she had been bendin' over the +dish-pan." + +Mrs. Lamson looked up with an alert, bright glance. She was a little +creature, and something still girlish lingered in her straight, slender +figure and the poise of her head. "Old Lady Lamson" was over eighty, +and she dressed with due deference to custom; but everything about her +gained, in the wearing, an air of youth. Her aggressively brown front +was rumpled a little, as if it had tried to crimp itself, only to be +detected before the operation was well begun, and the purple ribbons of +her cap flared rakishly aloft. + +"I jest took up a garter," she said, with some apology in her tone. +"Kind o' fiddlin' work, ain't it?" + +"Last time I was here, you was knittin' mittins," continued Mrs. +Pettis, seating herself laboriously on the lounge, and leaning forward +upon the umbrella clutched steadily in two fat hands. "You're dretful +forehanded. I remember I said so then. 'Samwel 'ain't got a mittin, to +his name,' I says, 'nor he won't have 'fore November.'" + +"Well, I guess David's pretty well on't for everything now," answered +Mrs. Lamson, with some pride. "He's got five pair o' new mittins, an' +my little blue chist full o' stockin's. I knit 'em two-an'-two, an' +two-an'-one, an' toed some on 'em off with white, an' some with red, +so's to keep 'em in pairs. But Mary said I better not knit any more, +for fear the moths'd git into 'em, an' so I stopped an' took up this +garter. But _'tis_ dretful fiddlin' work!" + +A brief silence fell upon the two, while the sweet summer scents stole +in at the window,--the breath of the cinnamon rose, of growing, grass +and good brown earth. Mrs. Pettis pondered, looking vacantly before +her, and Old Lady Lamson knit hastily on. Her needles clicked together, +and she turned her work with a jerk in beginning a row. But neither was +oppressed by lack of speech. They understood each other, and no more +thought of "making talk" than of pulling up a seed to learn whether it +had germinated. It was Mrs. Pettis who, after, a natural interval; felt +moved to speak. + +"Mary's master thoughtful of you, ain't she? 'Tain't many sons' wives +would be so tender of, anybody, now is it?" + +Mrs. Lamson looked up sharply, and then, with the same quick movement; +bent her eyes on her work. + +"Mary means to do jest what's right," she answered. "If she don't make +out, it ain't for lack o' tryin'." + +"So I says to Samwel this mornin, 'Old Lady Lamson 'ain't one thing to +concert herself with,' says I, 'but to git dressed an' set by the +winder. When dinner-time comes, she's got nothin' to do but hitch up to +the table; an' she don't have to touch her hand to a dish.' Now ain't +that so, Mis' Lamson?" + +"That's so," agreed Mrs. Lamson, with a little sigh, instantly +suppressed. "It's different from what I thought to myself 'twould be +when Mary come here. ''Tain't in natur' she'll have the feelin' for me +she would for her own,' I says; but I b'lieve she has, an' more too. +When she come for good, I made up my mind I'd put 'Up with everything, +an' say 'twas all in the day's work; but law! I never had to. She an' +David both act as if I was sugar or salt, I dunno which." + +"Don't ye never help 'round, washin'-days?" + +"Law, no! Mary won't hear to 't. She'd ruther have the dishes wait till +everything's on the line; an' if I stir a step to go into the gardin to +pick a 'mess o' beans, or kill a currant worm, she's right arter me. +'Mother, don't you fall!' she says, a dozen 'times a day. 'I dunno what +David'd do to me, if I let anything happen to you.' An' 'David, he's +ketched it, too. One night, 'long towards Thanksgivin' time, I kicked +the soapstone out o' bed, an' he come runnin' up as if he was +bewitched. 'Mother,' says he, 'did you fall? You 'ain't had a stroke, +have ye?'" + +Old Lady Lamson laughed huskily; her black eyes shone, and her cap +ribbons nodded, and danced, but there was an ironical ring to her +merriment. + +"Do tell!" responded Mrs. Pettis, in her ruminating voice. "Well, +things were different when we was young married folks, an' used to do +our own spinnin' an' weavin'." + +"I guess so!" Mrs. Lamson dropped her busy hands in her lap, and leaned +back a moment, in eager retrospect. "Do you recollect that Friday we +spun from four o'clock in the mornin' till six that evenin', because +the men-folks had gone in the ma'sh, an' all we had to do was to stop +an' feed the critters? An' Hiram Peasley come along with tinware, an' +you says, 'If you're a mind to stop at my house, an' throw a colander +an' a long-handled dipper over the fence, under the flowerin'-currant, +an' wait till next time for your pay, I'll take 'em,' says you. 'But I +ain't goin' to leave off spinnin' for anything less 'n Gabriel's +trumpet,' says you. I remember your sayin' that, as if 'twas only +yisterday; an' arter you said it, you kind o' drawed down your face an' +looked scairt. An' I never thought on't ag'in till next Sabbath +evenin', when Jim Bellows rose to speak, an' made some handle about the +Day o' Judgment, an' then I tickled right out." + +"How you do set by them days!" said Mrs. Pettis, striving to keep a +steady face, though her heavy sides were shaking. "I guess you remember +'em better 'n your prayers!" + +"Yes, I laughed out loud, an' you passed me a pep'mint over the pew, +an' looked as if you was goin' to cry. 'Don't,' says you; an' it sort +o' come over me you knew what I was laughin' at. Why, if there ain't +John Freeman stoppin' here,--Mary's sister's brother-in-law, you know. +Lives down to Bell P'int. Guess he's pullin' up to give the news." + +Mrs. Pettis came slowly to her feet, and scanned the farmer, who was +hitching his horse to the fence. When he had gone round to the back +door, she turned, and grasped her umbrella with a firmer hand. + +"Well, I guess 'twon't pay me to set down ag'in," she announced. "I'm +goin' to take it easy on the way home. I dunno but I'll let down the +bars, an' poke a little ways into the north pastur', an' see if I can't +git a mite o' pennyr'yal. I'll be in ag'in to-morrer or next day." + +"So do, so do," returned Mrs. Lamson. + +"'Tain't no use to ask you to come down, I s'pose? You don't git, out +so fur, nowadays." + +"No," said the other, still with that latent touch of sarcasm in her +voice. "If I should fall, there'd be a great hurrah, boys,--'fire on +the mountain, run, boys, run!'" + +Mrs. Pettis toiled out into the road; and Old Lady Lamson, laying her +knitting on the table, bent forward, not to watch her out of sight, but +to make sure whether she really would stop at the north pasture. + +"No, she's goin' by," she said aloud, with evident relief. "No, she +ain't either. I'll be whipped if she ain't lettin' down the bars! +_'Twould_ smell kind o' good, I declare!" + +She was still peering forward, one slender hand on the window-sill, +when Mary, a pretty young woman, with two nervous lines between her +eyes, came hurrying in. + +"Mother," she began, in that unnatural voice which is supposed to allay +excitement in another, "I dunno what I'm goin' to do. Stella's sick." + +"You don't say!" said Old Lady Lamson, turning away from the window. +"What do they think 'tis?" + +"Fever, John says. An' she's so full-blooded it'll be likely to go hard +with her. They want me to go right down, an' David's got to carry me. +John would, but he's gone to be referee in that land case, an' he won't +be back for a day or two. It's a mercy David's just home from town, so +he won't have to change his clo'es right through. Now, mother, if you +should have little 'Liza Tolman come an' stay with you, do you think +anything would happen, s'posin' we left you alone just one night?" + +A little flush rose in the old lady's withered cheek. Her eyes gleamed +brightly through her glasses. + +"Don't you worry one mite about me," she replied, in an even voice. +"You change your dress, an' git off afore it's dark. I shall be all +right." + +"David's harnessin' now," said Mary, beginning to untie her apron. "I +sent John down to the lower barn to call him. But, mother, if anything +should happen to you--" + +"Lord-a-massy! nothin' 's goin' to!" the old lady broke forth, in +momentary impatience. "Don't stan' here talkin'. You better have your +mind on Stella. Fever's a quicker complaint than old age. It al'ays +was, an' al'ays will be." + +"Oh, I know it! I know it!" cried Mary, starting toward the door. +"There ain't a thing for you to do. There's new bread an' preserves on +the dairy-wheel, an' you have 'Liza Tolman pick you up some chips, an' +build the fire for your tea; an' don't you wash the dishes, mother. +Just leave 'em in the sink. An' for mercy sake, take a candle, an' not +meddle with kerosene--" + +"Come, come, ain't you ready?" came David's voice from the door. "I +can't keep the horse stan'in' here till he's all eat up with flies." + +Mary fled to her bedroom, unbuttoning her dress as she ran; and David +came in, bringing an air of outdoor freshness into the little +sitting-room, with his regal height, his broad shoulders, and tanned, +fresh face. + +"Well, mother," he said, putting a hand of clumsy kindliness on her +shoulder, "if anything happens to you while we're gone, I shall wish +we'd let the whole caboodle of 'em die in their tracks. Don't s'pose +anything will, do ye?" + +"Law, no, David!" exclaimed the old lady, looking at him with beaming +pride. "You stan' still an' let me pick that mite o' lint off your arm. +I shall be tickled to death to git rid on ye." + +"Now, mother," counselled Mary, when she came but of the bedroom, +hastily tying her bonnet strings, "you watch the school-children, an' +ask 'Liza Tolman to stay with you, an' if she can't, to get one of the +Daltons; an' tell her we'll give her some Bartlett pears when they're +ripe." + +"Yes, yes, I hear," answered the old lady, rising, and setting back her +chair in its accustomed corner. "Now, do go along, or ye won't be down +to Grapevine Run afore five o'clock." + +She watched them while they drove out of the yard, shading her eyes +with one nervous hand. + +"Mother," called Mary, "don't you stan' there in that wind, with +nothin' on your head!" + +The old lady turned back into the house, and her face was alive with +glee. + +"Wind!" she ejaculated scornfully, and yet with the tolerance of one +too happy for complaint. "Wind! I guess there wouldn't be so much, if +some folks would save their breath to cool their porridge!" + +She did not go back to the sitting-room and her peaceful knitting. She +walked into the pantry, where she gave the shelves a critical survey, +and then, returning to the kitchen, looked about her once more. + +"If it's one day sence I've been down sullar," she said aloud, "it's +two year." She 'was lighting a candle as she spoke. In another moment, +she was taking sprightly steps down the stairs into the darkness below. + +"Now, mother, don't you fall!" she chuckled, midway in the descent; and +it was undeniable that the voice sounded much like Mary's in her +anxious mood. "Now, ain't I a mean creatur' to stan' here laughin' at +'em!" she went on: "Well,' if she don't keep things nice! 'Taters all +sprouted; an' the preserve cupboard never looked better in my day. +Mary's been well brought up,--I'll say that for her." + +Old Lady Lamson must have spent at least half an hour in the cellar, +for when she ascended it was after four o'clock, and the +school-children had passed the house on their way home. She heard their +voices under the elms at the turn of the road. + +"I ain't to blame if I can't ketch 'em," she remarked calmly, as she +blew out her light. "I don't see's anybody could say I was to blame. +An' I couldn't walk up to the Tolmans' to ask 'Liza. I might fall!" + +She set about her preparations for supper. It was a favorite maxim in +the household that the meal should be eaten early, "to get it out of +the way;" and to-night this unaccustomed handmaid had additional +reasons for haste. But the new bread and preserves were ignored. She +built a rousing fire in the little kitchen stove; she brought out the +moulding-board, and with trembling eagerness proceeded to mix +cream-of-tartar biscuits. Not Cellini himself nor Jeannie Carlyle had +awaited the results of passionate labor with a more strenuous +eagerness; and when she drew out the panful of delicately browned +biscuits, she set it down on the table, and looked at it in sheer +delight. + +"I'll be whipped if they ain't as good as if I'd made 'em every night +for the last two year!" she cried. "I ain't got to git my hand in, +an' that's truth an' fact!" + +She brought out some "cold b'iled dish," made her strong green tea, and +sat down to a banquet such as they taste who have reached the +Delectable Mountains. It held within it all the savor of a happy past; +it satisfied her hungry soul. + +After she had washed the supper dishes and scrupulously swept the +hearth, she rested, for a moment's thought, in the old rocking-chair, +and then took her way, candle in hand, to the attic. There was no +further self-confidence on the stairs; she was too serious, now. Her +hours were going fast. The attic, in spite of the open windows, lay hot +under summer's touch upon the shingles outside, and odorous of the +dried herbs hanging in bunches here and there. + +"Wormwood--thoroughwort--spearmint," she mused, as she touched them, +one after another, and inhaled their fragrance. "'Tain't so long ago I +was out pickin' herbs an' dryin' 'em. Well, well, well!" + +She made her way under the eaves, and pulled out a hair-trunk, studded +with brass nails. A rush-bottomed chair stood near-by, and, setting her +candle in it, she knelt before the trunk and began lifting out its +contents: a brocaded satin waistcoat of a long-past day, a woolen +comforter knit in stripes, a man's black broadcloth coat. She smoothed +them, as she laid them by, and there was a wondering note in her +lowered voice. + +"My Lord!" she whispered reverently, as if speaking to One who would +hear and understand, "it's over fifty year!" + +A pile of yellowed linen lay in the bottom of the trunk, redolent of +camphor from contact with its perishable neighbors. She lifted one +shirt after another, looking at them in silence. Then she laid back the +other clothes, took up her candle and the shirts, and went downstairs +again. In hot haste, she rebuilt the kitchen fire, and set two large +kettles of water on the stove. She dragged the washing-bench into the +back kitchen from its corner in the shed, and on it placed her tubs; +and when the water was heated, she put the garments into a tub, and +rubbed with the vigor and ease of a woman well accustomed to such work. +All the sounds of the night were loud about her, and the song of the +whippoorwill came in at the open door. He was very near. His presence +should have been a sign of approaching trouble, but Old Lady Lamson did +not hear him. Her mind was reading the lettered scroll of a vanished +year. + +Perhaps the touch of the warm water on her hands recalled her to the +present. + +"Seems good to feel the suds," she said, happily, holding up one +withered hand, and letting the foam drip from her fingers, "I wish't I +could dry outdoor! But when mornin' come, they'd be all of a sop." + +She washed and rinsed the garments, and, opening a clothes-horse, +spread them out to dry. Then she drew a long breath, put out her +candle, and wandered to the door. The garden lay before her, unreal in +the beauty of moonlight. Every bush seemed an enchanted wood. The old +lady went forth, lingering at first, as one too rich for choosing; then +with a firmer step. She closed the little gate, and walked out into the +country road. She hurried along to the old signboard, and turned aside +unerringly into a hollow, there, where she stooped and filled her hands +with tansy, pulling it up in great bunches, and pressing it eagerly to +her face. + +"Seventy-four year ago!" she told the unseen listener of the night, +with the same wonder in her voice. "Sir laid dead, an' they sent me +down here to pick tansy to put round him. Seventy-four year ago!" + +Still holding it; she rose, and went through the bars into the dewy +lane. Down the wandering path, trodden daily by the cows, she walked, +and came out in the broad pasture, irregular with its little hillocks, +where, as she had been told from her babyhood, the Indians used to +plant their corn. She entered the woods by a cart-path hidden from the +moon, and went on with a light step, gathering a bit of green here and +there,--now hemlock, now a needle from the sticky pine,--and inhaling +its balsam on her hands. A sharp descent, and she had reached the spot +where the brook ran fast, and where lay "Peggy's b'ilin' spring," named +for a great-aunt she had never seen, but whose gold beads she had +inherited, and who had consequently seemed to her a person of opulence +and ease. + +"I wish't I'd brought a cup," she said. "There ain't no such water +within twenty mile." + +She crouched beside the little black pool, where the moon glinted in +mysterious, wavering, symbols to beckon the gaze upward, and, making a +cup of her hand, drank eagerly. There was a sound near-by, as if some +wood creature were stirring; she thought she heard a fox barking in the +distance. Yet she was really conscious only of the wonder of time, the +solemn record of the fleeting years. + +When she made her way back through the woods, the moon was sinking, and +the shadows had grown heavy. As she reached the bars again, on her +homeward track, she stopped suddenly, and her face broke into smiling +at the pungent fragrance rising from the bruised herbage beneath her +feet. She stooped and gathered one telltale, homely weed, mixed as it +was with the pasture grass. "Pennyr'yal," she said happily, and felt +the richness of being. + +When Old Lady Lamson had ironed her shirts and put them away again, all +hot and sweet from the fire, it was five o'clock, and the birds had +long been trying to drag creation up from sleep, to sing with them the +wonders of the dawn. At six, she had her cup of tea, and when, at +eight, her son drove into the yard, she came placidly to the side door +to meet him, her knitting in her hands. + +"Well, if I ain't glad!" called David. "I couldn't git it out o' my +mind somethin' 'd happened to you. Stella's goin' to be all right, they +think, but nothin' will do but Mary must stay a spell. Do you s'pose +you an' I could keep house a week or so, if I do the heft o' the work?" + +Old Lady Lamson's eyes took on the look which sometimes caused her son +to inquire suspiciously, "Mother, what you laughin' at?" + +"I guess we can, if we try hard enough," she said, soberly, rolling up +her yarn. "Now you come in, an' I'll git you a bite o' somethin' +t'eat." + + + + +MIS' WADLEIGH'S GUEST. + + +Cyrus Pendleton sat by the kitchen fire, his stockinged feet, in the +oven, and his; hands stretched out toward the kettles, which were +bubbling prosperously away, and puffing a cloud of steam, into his +face. He was a meagre, sad-colored man, with mutton-chop whiskers so +thin as to lie like a shadow on his fallen cheeks; and his glance, +wherever it fell, Seemed to deprecate reproof. Thick layers of flannel +swathed his throat, and from time to time, he coughed wheezingly, with +the air of one who, having a cold, was determined to be conscientious +about it. A voice from the buttery began pouring forth words only a +little slower than the blackbird sings, and with no more reference to +reply. + +"Cyrus, don't you feel a mite better? Though I dunno how you could, +expect to, arter such a night as you had on't, puffin' an' blowin'!" +Mrs. Pendleton followed the voice. She seemed to be borne briskly in on +its wings, and came scudding over the kitchen sill, carrying a pan of +freshly sifted flour. She set it down on the table, and began "stirrin' +up." "I dunno where you got such a cold, unless it's in the air," she +continued. "Folks say they're round, nowadays, an' you ketch 'em, jest +as you would the mumps. But there! nobody on your side or mine ever had +the mumps, as long as I can remember. Except Elkanah, though! an' he +ketched 'em down to Portsmouth, when he went off on that fool's arrant +arter elwives. Do you s'pose you could eat a mite o' fish for dinner?" + +"I was thinkin'--" interposed Cyrus, mildly; but his wife swept past +him, and took the road. + +"I dunno's there's any use in gittin' a real dinner, jest you an' me, +an' you not workin' either. Folks say there's more danger of eatin' too +much'n too little. Gilman Lane, though, he kep' eatin' less an' less, +an' his stomach dried all up, till 'twa'n't no bigger'n a bladder. Look +here, you! I shouldn't wonder a mite if you'd got some o' them stomach +troubles along with your cold. You 'ain't acted as if you'd relished a +meal o' victuals for nigh onto ten days. Soon as I git my hands out o' +the flour, I'll look in the doctor's book, an' find out. My! how het up +I be!" She wiped her hands on the roller towel, and unpinned the little +plaid shawl drawn tightly across her shoulders, Its removal disclosed a +green sontag, and under that manifold layers of jacket and waist. She +was amply protected from the cold. "I dunno's I ought to ha' stirred up +rye'n' Injun," she went on, returning to her vigorous tossing and +mixing at the table. "Some might say the steam was bad for your lungs. +Anyhow, the doctor's book holds to't you've got to pick out a dry +climate, if you don't want to go into a decline. Le' me see! when your +Aunt Mattie was took, how long was it afore she really gi'n up? Arter +she begun to cough, I mean?" + +Cyrus moved uneasily. + +"I dunno," he said, hastily. "I never kep' the run o' such things." + +But Mirandy, pouring her batter into the pan, heeded him no more than +was her wont. + +"I s'pose that was real gallopin' consumption," she said, with relish." +I must ask Sister Sarah how long 'twas, next time I see her. She set it +down with the births an' deaths." + +Cyrus was moved to some remonstrance. He often felt the necessity of +asserting himself, lest he should presently hear his own passing-bell +and epitaph. + +"I guess you needn't stop steamin' bread for me! I ain't half so +stuffed up as I was yisterday!" + +Mrs. Pendleton clapped the loaf into the pot, wrinkling her face over +the cloud of steam that came puffing into it. + +"There!" she exclaimed. "Now perhaps I can git a minute to se' down. I +ain't bound a shoe to-day. My! who's that out this weather?" + +The side door was pushed open, and then shut with a bang. A vigorous +stamping of snow followed, and the inner door swung in to admit a +woman, very short, very stout, with a round, apple-cheeked face, and +twinkling eyes looking out from the enveloping folds of a gray cloud. + +"Well!" she said, in a cheery voice, beginning at once to unwind the +cloud, "here I be! Didn't think I'd rain down, did ye? I thought +myself, one spell, I should freeze afore I fell!" + +Mrs. Pendleton hurried forward, wiping her hands on her apron as she +went. + +"For the land's sake, Marthy Wadleigh!" she cried, laying hold of the +new-comer by the shoulders, and giving her an ineffectual but wholly +delighted shake. "Well, I never! Who brought you over? Though I dunno +which way you come. I 'ain't looked out--" + +"I walked from the corner," said Mrs. Wadleigh, who never felt any +compunction about interrupting her old neighbor. She was unpinning her +shawl composedly, as one sure of a welcome. "How do, Cyrus? Jim Thomas +took me up jest beyond the depot, an' give me a lift on his sled; but I +was all of a shiver, an' at the corner, I told him he better let me +step down an' walk. So I come the rest o' the way afoot an' alone. You +ain't goin' to use the oven, be ye? I'll jest stick my feet in a +minute. No, Cyrus, don't you move! I'll take t'other side. I guess we +sha'n't come to 'blows over it." + +She seemed to have brought into the kitchen, with that freshness of +outdoor air which the new-comer bears, like a balsam, in his garments, +a breath of fuller life, and even of jollity. As she sat there in her +good brown dress, with her worked collar, fastened by a large cameo, +her gold beads just showing, and her plump hands folded on a capacious +lap, she looked the picture of jovial content, quite able to take care +of herself, and perhaps apply a sturdy shoulder to the lagging +machinery of the world. + +"Didn't you git word I was comin' this week?" she asked. "I sent you a +line." + +"No, we 'ain't been so fur's the post-office," answered Mirandy, +absently. She was debating over her most feasible bill of fare, now +that a "pick-up dinner" seemed no longer possible. Moreover, she had +something on her mind, and she could not help thinking how unfortunate +it was that Cyrus shared her secret. Who could tell at what moment he +might broach it? She doubted his discretion. "The roads wa'n't broke +out till day before yisterday." + +"I shouldn't think they were!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, scornfully, testing +the heat with a hand on her skirt, and then lifting the breadths back +over her quilted petticoat. "I thought that would be the way on't, but +I'd made up my mind to come, an' come I would. Cyrus, what's the matter +o' you? Nothin' more'n a cold, is it?" + +Cyrus had withdrawn from the stove, and was feeling his chin, +uncertainly. + +"Oh, no, I guess not," he said. "We've been kind o' peaked, for a week +or two, all over the neighborhood; but I guess we shall come out on't, +now we've got into the spring. Mirandy, you git me a mite o' hot water, +an' I'll see if I can't shave." + +Mirandy was vigorously washing potatoes at the sink, but she turned, in +ever-ready remonstrance. + +"Shave!" she ejaculated, "Well, I guess you won't shave, such a day as +this, in that cold bedroom, with a stockin'-leg round your throat, an' +all! You want to git your death? Why, 'twas only last night, Marthy, he +had a hemlock sweat, an' all the ginger tea I could git down into him! +An' then I didn't know--" + +"Law! let him alone!" said Marthy, with a comfortable, throaty laugh. +"He'll feel twice as well, git some o' them things off his neck. Here, +Cyrus, you reach me down your mug--ain't them your shavin' things up +there?--an' I'll fill it for you. You git him a piece o' flannel, +Mirandy, to put on when he's washed up an' took all that stuff off his +throat. Why, he's got enough wool round there, if 'twas all in yarn, to +knit Old Tobe a pair o' mittins! An' they say one o' his thumbs was +bigger'n the hand o' Providence. You don't want to try all the goodness +out of him, do ye?" + +Cyrus gave one swift glance at his wife. "There! you see!" it said +plainly. "I am not without defenders." He took down his shaving-mug, +with an air of some bravado. But Mirandy was no shrew; she was simply +troubled about many things. + +"Well," she said, compressing her lips, and wrinkling her forehead in +resignation. "If folks want to kill themselves, I can't hender 'em! But +when he's down ag'in, I shall be the one to take care of him, that's +all. Here, Cyrus, don't you go into that cold bedroom. You shave you +here, if you're determined to do it." + +So Cyrus, after honing his razor, with the pleasure of a bored child +provided at last with occupation, betook himself to the glass set in +the lower part of the clock, and there, with much contortion of his +thin visage, proceeded to shave. Mirandy put her potatoes on to boil, +and set the fish on the stove to freshen; then She sat down by the +window, with a great basket beside her, and began to bind shoes. + +"Here," said Mrs. Wadleigh, coming to her feet and adjusting her skirt, +"you give me a needle! I've got my thimble right here in my pocket. +It's three months sence I've seen a shoe. I should admire to do a pair +or two. I wish I could promise ye more, but somehow I'm bewitched to +git over home right arter dinner!" + +Mrs. Pendleton laid down her work, and leaned back in her chair. Cyrus +turned, cleared his throat, and looked at her. + +"Marthy," said the hostess, "you ain't goin' over there to that +lonesome house, this cold snap?" + +"Ain't I?" asked Mrs. Wadleigh, composedly, as she trimmed the top of +her shoe preparatory to binding it. "Well, you see'f I ain't!" + +"In the fust place," went on Mrs. Pendleton, nervously, "the cross-road +ain't broke out, an' you can't git there. I dunno's a horse could +plough through; an' s'posin' they could, Cyrus ain't no more fit to go +out an' carry you over'n a fly." + +"Don't you worry," said Mrs. Wadleigh, binding off one top. "While I've +got my own legs, I don't mean to be beholden to nobody. I've had a +proper nice time all winter, fust with Lucy an' then with Ann,--an' I +tell ye 'tain't everybody that's got two darters married so well!--but +for the last fortnight, I've been in a real tew to come home. They've +kep' me till I wouldn't stay no longer, an' now I've got so near as +this, I guess I ain't goin' to stop for nobody!" + +Mrs. Pendleton looked despairingly at her husband; and he, absently +wiping his razor on a bit of paper, looked at her. + +"Marthy!" she burst forth. "No, Cyrus, don't you say one word! You +can't go! There's somebody there!" + +Mrs. Wadleigh, in turn, put down her work. + +"Somebody there!" she ejaculated. "Where?" + +"In your house!" + +"In my house? What for?" + +"I dunno," said Mirandy, unhappily. + +"Dunno? Well, what are they doin' there?" + +"I dunno that. We only know there's somebody there." + +Here the brown-bread kettle boiled over, creating a diversion; and +Mirandy gladly rose to set it further back. A slight heat had come into +Mrs. Wadleigh's manner. + +"Cyrus," said she, with emphasis, "I should like to have you speak. I +left that house in your care. I left the key with you, an' I should +like to know who you've been an' got in there." + +Cyrus opened his mouth, and then closed it again without saying a word. +He looked appealingly at his wife; and she took up the tale with some +joy, now that the first plunge had been made. + +"Well," she said, folding her hands in her apron, and beginning to rock +back and forth, a little color coming into her cheeks, and her eyes +snapping vigorously. "You see, this was the way 'twas. Cyrus, do let me +speak!" Cyrus had ineffectually opened his mouth again. "Wa'n't it in +November you went away? I thought so. Jest after that first sprinklin' +o' snow, that looked as if 'twould lay all winter. Well, we took the +key, an' hung it up inside the clock--an' there 'tis now!--an' once a +week, reg'lar as the day come round, Cyrus went over, an' opened the +winders, an' aired out the house." + +Mrs. Wadleigh sat putting her thimble off and on. + +"I know all about that," she interposed, "but who's in there now? +That's what I want to find out." + +"I'm comin' to that. I don't want to git ahead o' my story. An' so't +went on till it come two weeks ago Friday, an' Cyrus went over jest the +same as ever. An' when he hitched to the gate, he see smoke comin' out +o' the chimbly, an' there was a man's face at one square o' glass." She +paused, enjoying her climax. + +"Well? Why don't you go ahead? Mirandy Jane Pendleton, I could shake +you! You can talk fast enough when somebody else wants the floor! How'd +he git in? What'd he say for himself?" + +"Why, he never said anything! Cyrus didn't see him." + +"Didn't see him? I thought he see him lookin' out the winder!" + +"Why, yes! so he did, but he didn't see him to speak to. He jest nailed +up the door, an' come away." + +Mrs. Wadleigh turned squarely upon the delinquent Cyrus, who stood, +half-shaven, absently honing his razor. + +"Cyrus," said she, with an alarming decision, "will you open your head, +an' tell me what you nailed up that door for? an' where you got your +nails? I s'pose you don't carry 'em round with you, ready for any +door't happens to need nailin' up?" + +This fine sarcasm was not lost on Cyrus. He perceived that he had +become the victim of a harsh and ruthless dealing. + +"I had the key to the front door with me, an' I thought I'd jest step +round an' nail up t'other one," he said, in the tone of one conscious +of right. "There was some nails in the wood-shed. Then I heard somebody +steppin' round inside, an' I come away." + +"You come away!" repeated Mrs. Wadleigh, rising in noble wrath. "You +nailed up the' door an' come away! Well, if you! ain't a weak sister! +Mirandy, you hand me down that key, out o' the clock, while I git my +things!" + +She walked sturdily across to the bedroom, and Mirandy followed her, +wringing her hands in futile entreaty. + +"My soul, Marthy! you ain't goin' over there! You'll be killed, as sure +as you step foot into the yard. Don't you remember how that hired man +down to Sudleigh toled the whole fam'ly out into the barn, one arter +another, an' chopped their heads off--" + +"You gi' me t'other end o' my cloud," commanded Mrs. Wadleigh. "I'm +glad I've got on stockin'-feet. Where's t'other mittin? Oh! there +'tis, down by the sto'-leg. Cyrus, if you knew how you looked with your +face plastered over o' lather, you'd wipe it off, an' hand me down that +key. Can't you move? Well, I guess I can reach it myself." + +She dropped the house key carefully into her pocket, and opened the +outer door; both Cyrus and his wife knew they were powerless to stop +her. + +"O Marthy, do come back!" wailed Mrs. Pendleton after her. "You 'ain't +had a mite o' dinner, an' you'll never git out o' that house alive!" + +"I'd rather by half hitch up myself," began Cyrus; but his wife turned +upon him, at the word, bundled him into the kitchen, and shut the door +upon him. Then she went back to her post in the doorway, and peered +after Mrs. Wadleigh's square figure on the dazzling road, with a +melancholy determination to stand by her to the last. Only when it +occurred to her that it was unlucky to watch a departing friend out of +sight, did she shut the door hastily, and go in to reproach Cyrus and +prepare his dinner. + +Mrs. Wadleigh plodded steadily onward. Her face had lost its robustness +of scorn, and expressed only a cheerful determination. Once or twice +her mouth relaxed, in retrospective enjoyment of the scene behind her, +and she gave vent to a scornful ejaculation. + +"A man in my house!" she said once, aloud. "I guess we'll see!" + +She turned into the cross-road, where stood her dear and lonely +dwelling, with no neighbors on either side for half a mile, and stopped +a moment to gaze about her. The road was almost untravelled, and the +snow lay encrusted over the wide fields, sparkling on the heights and +blue in the hollows. The brown bushes by a hidden stone-wall broke the +sheen entrancingly; here and there a dry leaf fluttered, but only +enough to show how still such winter stillness can be, and a flock of +little brown birds rose, with a soft whirr, and settled further on. +Mrs. Wadleigh pressed her lips together in a voiceless content, and her +eyes took on a new brightness. She had lived quite long enough in the +town. Rounding a sweeping bend, and ploughing sturdily along, though it +was difficult here to find the roadway, she kept her eyes fixed on a +patch of sky, over a low elm, where the chimney would first come into +view. But just before it stepped forward to meet her, as she had seen +it a thousand times, a telltale token forestalled it; a delicate blue +haze crept out, in spiral rings, and tinged the sky. + +"He's got a fire!" she exclaimed loudly. "He's there! My soul!" Until +now the enormity of his offence had not penetrated her understanding. +She had heard the fact without realizing it. + +The house was ancient but trimly kept, and it stood within a spacious +yard, now in billows and mounds of snow, under which lay the treasures +inherited by the spring. The trellises on either side the door held the +bare clinging arms of jessamine and rose, and the syringa and lilac +bushes reached hardily above the snow. As Mrs. Wadleigh approached the +door, she gave a rapid glance at the hop-pole in the garden, and +wondered if its vine had stood the winter well. That was the third hop +vine she'd had from Mirandy Pendleton! Mounting the front steps, she +drew forth the key, and put it in the door. It turned readily enough, +but though she gave more than one valiant push, the door itself did not +yield. It was evidently barricaded. + +"My soul!" said Mrs. Wadleigh. + +She stepped back, to survey the possibilities of attack; but at that +instant, glancing up at the window, she had Cyrus Pendleton's own +alarming experience. A head looked out at her, and was quickly +withdrawn. It was dark, unkempt, and the movement was stealthy. + +"That's him!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, grimly, and returning to the charge, +she knocked civilly at the door. No answer. Then she pushed again. It +would not yield. She thought of the ladder in the barn, of the small +cellar-window; vain hopes, both of them! + +"Look here!" she called aloud. "You let me in! I'm the Widder Wadleigh! +This is my own house, an' I'm real tried stan'in' round here, knockin' +at my own front door. You le'me in, or I shall git my death o' cold!" + +No answer; and then Mrs. Wadleigh, as she afterwards explained it, "got +mad." She ploughed her way round the side of the house,--not the side +where she had seen the face, but by the "best-room" windows,--and +stepped softly up to the back door. Cyrus Pendleton's nail was no +longer there. The man had easily pushed it out. She lifted the latch, +and set her shoulder against the panel. + +"If it's the same old button, it'll give," she thought. And it did +give. She walked steadily across the kitchen toward the clock-room, +where the man that moment turned to confront her. He made a little run +forward; then, seeing but one woman, he restrained himself. He was not +over thirty years old; a tall, well-built fellow, with very black eyes +and black hair. His features were good, but just now his mouth was set, +and he looked darkly defiant. Of this, however, Mrs. Wadleigh did not +think, for she was in a hot rage. + +"What under the sun do you mean, lockin' me out o' my own house?" she +cried, stretching out her reddened hands to the fire. "An' potaters +b'iled all over this good kitchen stove! I declare, this room's a real +hog's nest, an' I left it as neat as wax!" + +Perhaps no man was ever more amazed than this invader. He stood staring +at her in silence. + +"Can't you shet the door!" she inquired, fractiously, beginning to +untie her cloud. "An' put a stick o' wood in the stove? If I don't git +het through, I shall ketch my death!" + +He obeyed, seemingly from the inertia of utter surprise. Midway in the +act of lifting the stove-cover, he glanced at her in sharp, suspicion. + +"Where's the rest?" he asked, savagely. "You ain't alone?" + +"Well, I guess I'm alone!" returned Mrs. Wadleigh, drawing off her icy +stocking-feet, "an' walked all the way from Cyrus Pendleton's! There +ain't nobody likely to be round," she continued, with grim humor. "I +never knew 'twas such a God-forsaken hole, till I'd been away an' come +back to 't. No, you needn't be scairt! The road ain't broke out, an' if +'twas, we shouldn't have no callers to-day. It's got round there's a +man here, an' I'll warrant the selec'men are all sick abed with colds. +But there!" she added, presently, as the soothing warmth of her own +kitchen stove began to penetrate, "I dunno's I oughter call it a +Godforsaken place. I'm kind o' glad to git back." + +There was silence for a few minutes, while she toasted her feet, and +the man stood shambling from one foot to the other and furtively +watching her and the road. Suddenly she rose, and lifted a pot-cover. + +"What you got for dinner?" she inquired, genially. "I'm as holler's a +horn!" + +"I put some potatoes on," said he, gruffly. + +"Got any pork? or have you used it all up?" + +"I guess there's pork! I 'ain't touched it. I 'ain't eat anything but +potatoes; an' I've chopped wood for them, an' for what I burnt." + +"Do tell!" said Mrs. Wadleigh. She set the potatoes forward, where they +would boil more vigorously. "Well, you go down sullar an' bring me up a +little piece o' pork--streak o' fat an' streak o' lean--an' I'll fry +it. I'll sweep up here a mite while you're gone. Why, I never see such +a lookin' kitchen! What's your name?" she called after him, as he set +his foot on the Upper stair. + +He hesitated. "Joe!" he said, falteringly. + +"All right, then, Joe, you fly round an' git the pork!" She took down +the broom from its accustomed nail, and began sweeping joyously; the +man, fishing in the pork-barrel, listened meanwhile to the regular +sound above. Once it stopped, and he held his breath for a moment, and +stood at bay, ready to dash up the stairs and past his pursuers, had +she let them in. But it was only her own step, approaching the cellar +door. + +"Joe!" she called. "You bring up a dozen apples, Bald'ins. I'll fry +them, too." + +Something past one o'clock, they sat down together to as strange a meal +as the little kitchen had ever seen. Bread and butter were lacking, but +there was quince preserve, drawn from some hidden hoard, the apples and +pork, and smoking tea. Mrs. Wadleigh's spirits rose. Home was even +better than her dreams had pictured it. She told her strange guest all +about her darter Lucy and her darter Ann's children; and he listened, +quite dazed and utterly speechless. + +"There!" she said at last, rising, "I dunno's I ever eat such a meal +o' victuals in my life, but I guess it's better'n many a poor soldier +used to have. Now, if you've got some wood to chop, you go an' do it, +an' I'll clear up this kitchen; it's a real hurrah's nest, if ever +there was one!" + +All that afternoon, the stranger chopped wood, pausing, from time to +time, to look from the shed door down the country road; and Mrs. +Wadleigh, singing "Fly like a Youthful," "But O! their end, their +dreadful end," and like melodies which had prevailed when she "set in +the seats," flew round, indeed, and set the kitchen in immaculate +order. Evidently her guest had seldom left that room. He had slept +there on the lounge. He had eaten his potatoes there, and smoked his +pipe. + +When the early dusk set in, and Mrs. Wadleigh had cleared away their +supper of baked potatoes and salt fish, again with libations of quince, +she drew up before the shining stove, and put her feet on the hearth. + +"Here!" she called to the man, who was sitting uncomfortably on one +corner of the woodbox, and eying her with the same embarrassed +watchfulness. "You draw up, too! It's the best time o' the day now, +'tween sunset an' dark." + +"I guess I'd better be goin'," he returned, doggedly. + +"Goin'? Where?" + +"I don't know. But I'm goin'." + +"Now look here," said Mrs. Wadleigh, with rigor. "You take that chair, +an' draw up to the fire. You do as I tell you!" + +He did it. + +"Now, I can't hender your goin', but if you do go, I've got a word to +say to you." + +"You needn't say it! I don't want nobody's advice." + +"Well, you've got to have it jest the same! When you bile potaters, +don't you let 'em run over onto the stove. Now you remember! I've had +to let the fire go down here, an' scrub till I could ha' cried. Don't +you never do such a thing ag'in, wherever you be!" + +He could only look at her. This sort of woman was entirely new to his +experience. + +"But I've got somethin' else to say," she continued, adjusting her feet +more comfortably. "I ain't goin' to turn anybody out into the snow, +such a night as this. You're welcome to stay, but I want to know what +brought ye here. I ain't one o' them that meddles an' makes, an' if you +'ain't done nothin' out o' the way, an' I ain't called on for a +witness, you needn't be afraid o' my tellin'." + +"You will be called on!" he broke in, speaking from a desperation +outside his own control. "It's murder! I've killed a man!" He turned +upon her with a savage challenge in the motion; but her face was set, +placidly forward, and the growing dusk had veiled its meaning. + +"Well!" she remarked, at length, "ain't you ashamed to set there +talkin' about it! You must have brass enough to line a kittle! Why +'ain't you been, like a man, an' gi'n yourself up, instid o' livin' +here, turnin' my kitchen upside down? Now you tell me all about it! +It'll do ye good." + +"I'm goin'," said the man, breathing hard as he spoke, "I'm goin' away +from here tonight. They never'll take me alive. It was this way. There +was a man over where I lived that's most drunk himself under ground, +but he ain't too fur gone to do mischief. He told a lie about me, an' +lost me my place in the shoe shop. Then one night, I met him goin' +home, an' we had words. I struck him. He fell like an ox. I killed him. +I didn't go home no more. I didn't even see my wife. I couldn't tell +her. I couldn't be took _there_. So I run away. An' when I got starved +out, an' my feet were most froze walkin', I see this house, all shet +up, an' I come here." + +He paused; and the silence was broken only by the slow, cosey ticking +of the liberated clock. + +"Well!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, at last, in a ruminating tone. "Well! well! +Be you a drinkin' man?" + +"I never was till I lost my job," he answered, sullenly. "I had a +little then. I had a little the night he sassed me." + +"Well! well!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, again. And then she continued, +musingly: "So I s'pose you're Joe Mellen, an' the man you struck was +Solomon Ray?" + +He came to his feet with a spring. + +"How'd you know?" he shouted. + +"Law! I've been visitin' over Hillside way!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, +comfortably. "You couldn't ha' been very smart not to thought o' that +when I mentioned my darter Lucy, an' where the childern went to school. +No smarter'n you was to depend on that old wooden button! I know all +about that drunken scrape. But the queerest part on't was--Solomon Ray +didn't die!" + +"Didn't die!" the words halted, and he dragged them forth. "Didn't +die?" + +"Law, no! you can't kill a Ray! They brought him to, an' fixed him up +in good shape. I guess you mellered him some, but he's more scairt than +hurt. He won't prosecute. You needn't be afraid. He said he dared you +to it. There, there now! I wouldn't. My sake alive! le' me git a +light!" + +For the stranger sat with his head bowed on the table, and he trembled +like a child. + +Next morning at eight o'clock, Mrs. Wadleigh was standing at the door, +in the sparkling light, giving her last motherly injunction to the +departing guest. + +"You know where the depot is? An' it's the nine o'clock train you've +got to take. An' you remember what I said about hayin' time. If you +don't have no work by the middle o' May, you drop me a line, an' +perhaps I can take you an' your wife, too; Lucy's childern al'ays make +a sight o' work. You keep that bill safe, an'--Here, wait a minute! You +might stop at Cyrus Pendleton's--it's the fust house arter you pass; +the corner--an' ask 'em to put a sparerib an' a pat o' butter into the +sleigh, an' ride over here to dinner. You tell 'em I'm as much obleeged +to 'em for sendin' over last night to see if I was alive, as if I +hadn't been so dead with sleep I couldn't say so. Good-bye! Now, you +mind you keep tight hold o' that bill, an', spend it prudent!" + +"Is Kelup Rivers comin' over here to-night?" suddenly asked Aunt +Melissa Adams, peering over her gold-bowed glasses, and fixing her +small shrewd eyes sharply upon her niece. + +Amanda did not look up from her fine hemming, but her thin hand +trembled almost imperceptibly, and she gave a little start, as if such +attacks were not altogether unexpected. + +"I don't know," she answered, in a low tone. + +"Dunno! why don't ye know?" said her aunt, beginning to sway back and +forth in the old-fashioned rocking-chair, but not once dropping her +eyes from Amanda's face. "Don't he come every Saturday night?" + +Amanda took another length, of thread, and this time her hand really +shook. + +"I guess so," she answered. + +"You guess so? Don't ye know? An' if he's come every Saturday night for +fifteen year, ain't he comin' to-night? I dunno what makes you act as +if you wa'n't sure whether your soul's your own, 'Mandy Green. My +dander al'ays rises when I ask you a civil question an' you put on that +look." + +Amanda bent more closely over her sewing. She was a woman of +thirty-five, with a pathetically slender figure, thin blond hair +painstakingly crimped, and anxious blue eyes. Something deprecating lay +in her expression; her days had been uncomplainingly sacrificed to the +comfort of those she loved, and the desire of peace and good-will had +crept into her face and stayed there. Her mother, who looked even +slighter than she, and whose cheeks were puckered by wrinkles, sat by +the window watching the two with a smile of empty content. Old Lady +Green had lost her mind, said the neighbors; but she was sufficiently +like her former self to be a source of unspeakable joy and comfort to +Amanda, who nursed and petted her as if their positions were reversed, +and protected her from the blunt criticism of the literal-tongued +neighborhood with a reverential awe belonging to the old days when the +fifth commandment was written and obeyed. + +"Gold-bowed," said Mrs. Green, with a look of unalloyed delight, +pointing to her sister-in-law's spectacles; and Aunt Melissa repeated +indulgently,-- + +"Yes, yes, gold-bowed. I'll let you take 'em a spell, arter I've set my +heel. It'll please her, poor creatur'!" she added, in an audible aside +to Amanda. Since the time when Mrs. Green's wits had ceased to work +normally, she had treated her sympathetically, but from a lofty +eminence. Aunt Melissa was perhaps too prosperous. She sat there, +swaying back and forth, in her thin black silk trimmed with narrow rows +of velvet, her heavy chin sunk upon a broad collar, worked in her +youth, and she seemed to Mrs. Green a vision of majesty and delight, +but to Amanda a virtuous censor, necessarily to be obeyed, yet whose +presence made the summer day intolerable. Even her purple cap-ribbons +bespoke terror to the evil-doer, and her heavy face was set, as a +judgment, toward the doom of the man who knew not how to account for +his actions. She began speaking again, and Amanda involuntarily gave a +little start, as at a lightning flash. + +"I says to myself when I drove off, this mornin': 'I'll have a little +talk with 'Mandy. I don' go there to spend a day more'n four times a +year, an' like as not she'll be glad to have somebody to speak to, +seen' 's her mother's how she is.'" + +Amanda gave a quick look at Mrs. Green; but the old lady was busily +pleating the hem of her apron and then smoothing it out again. Aunt +Melissa rocked, and went on:-- + +"I says to myself: 'Here they let Kelup carry on the farm at the +halves, an' go racin' an' trottin' from the other place over here day +in an' day out. An' when his Uncle Nat died, two year ago, then was the +time for him to come over here an' marry 'Mandy an' carry on the farm. +But no, he'd rather hang round the old place, an' sleep in the +ell-chamber, an' do their chores for his board, an' keep on a-runnin' +over here.' An' when young Nat married, I says to myself, 'That'll make +him speak.' But it didn't--an' you 're a laughin'-stock, 'Mandy Green, +if ever there was one. Every time the neighbors see him steppin' by +Saturday nights, all fixed up, with that brown coat on he's had sence +the year one, they have suthin' to say, 'Goin' over to 'Mandy's,' +that's what they say. An' on'y last Saturday one on 'em hollered out to +me, when I was pickin' a mess o' pease for Sunday, 'Wonder what +'Mandy'll answer when he gits round to askin' of her?' I hadn't a word +to say. 'You better go to _him_,' says I, at last." + +Amanda had put down her sewing in her lap, and was looking steadfastly +out of the window, with eyes brimmed by two angry tears. Once she wiped +them with a furtive movement of the white garment in her lap; her +cheeks were crimson. Aunt Melissa had lashed herself into a cumulative +passion of words. + +"An' I says to myself, 'If there ain't nobody else to speak to 'Mandy, +I will,' I says, when I was combin' my hair this mornin'. 'She 'ain't +got no mother,' I says, 'nor as good as none, an' if she 'ain't spunk +enough to look out for herself, somebody's got to look out for her.' +An' then it all come over me--I'd speak to Kelup himself, an' bein' +Saturday night, I knew I should ketch him here." + +"O Aunt Melissa!" gasped Amanda, "you wouldn't do that!" + +"Yes, I would, too!" asserted Aunt Melissa, setting her firm lips. "You +see if I don't, an' afore another night goes over my head!" + +But while Amanda was looking at her, paralyzed with the certainty that +no mortal aid could save her from this dire extremity, there came an +unexpected diversion. Old Lady Green spoke out clearly and decidedly +from her corner, in so rational a voice that it seemed like one calling +from the dead. + +"'Mandy, what be you cryin' for? You come here an' tell me what 'tis, +an' I'll see to't. You'll spile your eyes, 'Mandy, if you take on so." + +"There, there, ma'am! 'tain't anything," said Amanda, hurrying over to +her chair and patting her on the shoulder. "We was just havin' a little +spat,--Aunt Melissa an' me; but we've got all over it. Don't you want +to knit on your garter a little while now?" + +But the old lady kept her glazed eyes fixed on Amanda's face. + +"Be you well to-day, 'Mandy?" she said, wistfully. "If you ain't well, +you must take suthin'." + +"There, there! don't you make a to-do, an' she'll come round all +right," said Aunt Melissa, moving her chair about so that it faced the +old lady. "I'll tell her suthin' to take up her mind a little." And she +continued, in the loud voice which was her concession to Mrs. Green's +feebleness of intellect, "They've got a boarder over to the +Blaisdells'." + +Mrs. Green sat up straight in her chair, smoothed her apron, and looked +at her sister with grateful appreciation. + +"Do tell!" she said, primly. + +"Yes, they have. Name's Chapman. They thought he was a book agent fust. +But he's buyin' up old dishes an' all matter o' truck. He wanted my +andirons, an' I told him if I hadn't got a son in a Boston store, he +might ha' come round me, but I know the vally o' things now. You don't +want to sell them blue coverlids o' yourn, do ye?" + +Aunt Melissa sometimes asked the old lady questions from a sense of the +requirements of conversation, and she was invariably startled when they +elicited an answer. + +"Them coverlids I wove myself, fifty-five years ago come next spring," +said Mrs. Green, firmly. "Sally Ann Mason an' me used to set up till +the clock struck twelve that year, spinnin' an' weavin'. Then we had a +cup or two o' green tea, an' went to bed." + +"Well, you wove 'em, an' you don't want to sell 'em," said Aunt +Melissa, her eyes on her work. "If you do, 'Lijah he'll take 'em right +up to Boston for you, an' I warrant he'll git you a new white spread +for every one on 'em." + +"That was the year afore I was married," continued Old Lady Green. "I +had a set o' white chiny with lavender sprigs, an' my dress was +changeable. He had a flowered weskit. 'Mandy, you go into the +clo'es-press in my bedroom an' git out that weskit, an' some o' them +quilts, an' my M's an' O's table-cloths." + +Amanda rose and hurried into the bedroom, in spite of Aunt Melissa's +whispered comment: "What makes you go to overhaulin' things? She'll +forgit it in a minute." + +While she was absent, a smart wagon drove up to the gate, and a young +man alighted from it, hitched his horse, and knocked at the front door. +Aunt Melissa saw him coming, and peered at him over her glasses with an +unrecognizing stare. + +"'Mandy!" she called, "'Mandy, here's a pedler or suthin'! If he's got +any essences, you ask him for a little bottle o' pep'mint." + +Amanda dropped the pile of coverlets on the sofa, and went to the front +door. Presently she reappeared, and with her, smoothly talking her +down, came the young man. His eyes lighted first on the coverlets, with +a look of cheerful satisfaction. + +"Got all ready for me, didn't you?" he asked, briskly. "Heard I was +coming, I guess." + +He was a man of an alert Yankee type, with waxed blond mustache and +eye-glasses; he was evidently to be classed among those who have +exchanged their country honesty for a veneer of city knowingness. + +"For the land's sake!" ejaculated Aunt Melissa, as soon as she had him +at short range, "you're the one down to Blaisdell's that's buyin' up +all the old truck in the neighborhood. Well, you won't git my +andirons!" + +He had begun to unfold the blue coverlets and examine them with a +practised eye, while Amanda stood by, painfully conscious that some +decisive action might be required of her; and her mother sat watching +the triumph of her quilts in pleased importance. + +"They ain't worth much," he said, dropping them, with a conclusive air. +"Fact is, they ain't worth anything, unless any body's got a fancy for +such old stuff. I'll tell you what, I'll give you fifty cents apiece +for the lot! How many are there here--four? Two dollars, then." + +Amanda took a hasty step forward. + +"But we don't want to sell our coverlids!" she said, indignantly, +casting an appealing glance at Aunt Melissa. + +"I guess they don't want to git rid on 'em," said that lady, +"'specially at such a price. They're wuth more 'n that to cover up the +squashes when the frost comes." + +"Mother wove 'em herself," exclaimed Amanda, irrelevantly. It began to +seem to her as if the invader might pack up her mother's treasures and +walk off with them. + +"Well, then, I s'pose they're hers to do as she likes with?" he said, +pleasantly, tipping back, in his chair, and beginning to pare his nails +with an air of nicety that fascinated Amanda into watching him. +"They're hers, I s'pose?" he continued, looking suddenly and keenly up +at her. + +"Why, yes," she answered, "they're mother's, but she don't want to +sell. She sets by 'em." + +"Just like me, for all the world," owned the stranger, "Now there's +plenty of folks that wouldn't care a Hannah Cook about such old truck, +but it just hits me in the right spot. Mother's doughnuts, mother's +mince-pies, I say! Can't improve on _them_! And when my wife and I +bought our little place, I said to her, 'We'll have it all furnished +with old-fashioned goods.' And here I am, taking, time away from my +business, riding round the country, and paying good money for what's no +use to anybody but me." + +"What is your business?" interrupted Aunt Melissa. + +"Oh, insurance--a little of everything--Jack-of-all-trades!" Then he +turned to Old Mrs. Green, and asked, abruptly, "What'll you take for +that clock?" + +The old lady followed his alert forefinger until her eyes rested on the +tall eight-day clock in the corner. She straightened herself in her +chair, and spoke with pride:-- + +"That was Jonathan's gre't-uncle Samwell's. He wound it every Sunday +night, reg'lar as the day come round. I've rubbed that case up till I +sweat like rain. 'Mandy she rubs it now." + +"Well, what'll you take?" persisted he, while Amanda, in wordless +protest, stepped in front of the clock. "Five dollars?" + +"Five dollars," repeated the old lady, lapsing into senseless +iteration. "Yes, five dollars." + +But Aunt Melissa came to the rescue. + +"Five dollars for that clock?" she repeated, winding her ball, and +running the needles into it with a conclusive stab. "Well, I guess +there ain't any eight-day clocks goin' out o' _this_ house for five +dollars, if they go at all! 'Mandy, why don't you speak up, an' not +stand there like a chicken with the pip?" + +"Oh, all right, all right!" said the visitor, shutting his knife with a +snap, and getting briskly on his feet. "I don't care much about buying. +That ain't a particularly good style of clock, anyway. But I like old +things. I may drop in again, just to take a look at 'em. I suppose +you're always at home?" he said to Amanda, with his hand on the door. + +"Yes; but sometimes I go to Sudleigh with butter. I go Monday +afternoons most always, after washin'." + +With a cheerful good-day he was gone, and Amanda drew a long breath of +relief. + +"Well, some folks have got enough brass to line a kittle," said Aunt +Melissa, carefully folding her knitting-work in a large silk +handkerchief. "'Mandy, you'll have to git supper a little earlier'n +common for me. I told Hiram to come by half arter six. Do you s'pose +Kelup'll be round by that time? I'll wait all night afore I'll give up +seein' him." + +"I don't know, Aunt Melissa," said Amanda, nervously clearing the table +of its pile of snowy cloth, and taking a flying glance from the window. +She looked like a harassed animal, hunted beyond its endurance; but +suddenly a strange light of determination flashed into her face. +"Should you just as lieves set the table," she asked, in a tone of +guilty consciousness, "while I start the kitchen fire? You know where +things are." Hardly waiting for an assent, she fled from the room, and +once in the kitchen, laid the fire in haste, with a glance from the +window to accompany every movement. Presently, by a little path through +the field, came a stocky man in blue overalls and the upper garment +known as a jumper. He was bound for the pigpen in the rear of the barn; +and there Amanda flew to meet him, stopping only to throw an apron over +her head. They met at the door. He was a fresh-colored man, with honest +brown eyes and a ring of whiskers under the chin. He had a way of +blushing, and when Amanda came upon him thus unannounced, he colored to +the eyes. + +"Why, you're all out o' breath!" he said, in slow alarms. + +"O Caleb!" she cried, looking at him with imploring eyes. "I'll feed +the pigs to-night." + +Caleb regarded her in dull wonderment. Then he set down the pail he had +taken. + +"Ain't there any taters to bile?" he asked, solving the difficulty in +his own way; "or 'ain't you skimmed the milk? I'd jest as soon wait." + +"You better not wait," answered Amanda, almost passionately, her thin +hair blowing about her temples. "You better go right back. I'd ruther +do it myself; I'd a good deal ruther." + +Caleb turned about. He took a few steps, then stopped, and called +hesitatingly over his shoulder, "I thought maybe I'd come an' set a +spell to-night." + +Then, indeed, Amanda felt her resolution, crack and quiver. "I guess +you better come some other night," she said, in a steady voice, though +her face was wet with tears. And Caleb walked away, never once looking +back. Amanda stayed only to wipe her eyes, saying meanwhile to her +sorry self, "Oh, I dunno how I can get along! I dunno!" Then she +hurried back to the house, to find the kettle merrily singing, and Aunt +Melissa standing at the kitchen cupboard, looking critically up and +down the shelves. + +"If you've got two sets o' them little gem-pans, you might lend me +one," she remarked; and Amanda agreed, not knowing what she gave. + +The supper was eaten and the dishes were washed, Aunt Melissa meantime +keeping a strict watch from the window. + +"Is it time for Kelup?" she asked, again and again; and finally she +confronted the guilty Amanda with the challenge, "Do you think Kelup +ain't comin'?" + +"I--guess not," quavered Amanda, her cheeks scarlet, and her small, +pathetic hands trembling. She was not more used to _finesse_ than to +heroic action. + +"Do you s'pose there's any on 'em sick down to young Nat's?" asked Aunt +Melissa; and Amanda was obliged to take recourse again to her shielding +"I guess not." But at length Uncle Hiram drove up in the comfortable +carry-all; and though his determined spouse detained him more than +three-quarters of an hour, sitting beside him like a portly +Rhadamanthus, and scanning the horizon for the Caleb who never came, he +finally rebelled, shook the reins, and drove off, Aunt Melissa meantime +screaming over her shoulder certain vigorous declarations, which +evidently began with the phrase, "You tell Kelup--" + +Then Amanda went into the house, and sat down by the window in the +gathering dusk, surveying the wreckage of her dream. The dream was even +more precious in that it had grown so old. Caleb was a part of her +every-day life, and for fifteen years Saturday had brought a little +festival, wherein the commonplace man with brown eyes had been +high-priest. He would not come to-night. Perhaps he never would come +again. She knew what it was to feel widowed. + +Sunday passed; and though Caleb fed the pigs and did the barn-work as +usual, he spoke but briefly. Even in his customary salutation of "How +dee?" Amanda detected a change of tone, and thereafter took flight +whenever she heard his step at the kitchen door. So Monday forenoon +passed; Caleb brought water for her tubs and put out her clothes-line, +but they had hardly spoken. The intangible monster of a +misunderstanding had crept between them. But when at noon he asked as +usual, though without looking at her, "Goin' to Sudleigh with the +butter to-day?" Amanda had reached the limit of her endurance. It +seemed to her that she could no longer bear this formal travesty of +their old relations, and she answered in haste,-- + +"No, I guess not." + +"Then you don't want I should set with your mother?" + +"No!" And again Caleb turned away, and plodded soberly off to young +Nat's. + +"I guess I must be crazy," groaned poor Amanda, as she changed her +washing-dress for her brown cashmere. "The butter's got to go, an' now +I shall have to harness, an' leave ma'am alone. Oh, I wish Aunt +Melissa'd never darkened these doors!" + +Everything went wrong with Amanda, that day. The old horse objected to +the bits, and occupied twenty minutes in exasperating protest; the +wheels had to be greased, and she lost a butter-napkin in the well. +Finally, breathless with exertion, she went in to bid her mother +good-by, and see that the matches were hidden and the cellar door +fastened. + +"Now, ma'am," she said, standing over the little old woman and speaking +with great distinctness, "don't you touch the stove, will you? You jest +set right here in your chair till I come back, an' I'll bring you a +good parcel o' pep'-mints. Here's your garter to knit on, an' here's +the almanac. Don't you stir now till I come." + +And so, with many misgivings, she drove away. + +When, Amanda came back, she did not stay to unharness, but hurried up +to the kitchen door, and called, "You all right, ma'am?" There was no +answer, and she stepped hastily across the floor. As she opened the +sitting-room door, a low moaning struck her ear. The old lady sat +huddled together in, her chair, groaning at intervals, and looking +fixedly at the corner of the room. + +"O ma'am, what is it? Where be you hurt?" cried Amanda, possessed by an +anguish of self-reproach. But the old lady only continued her moaning; +and then it was that Amanda noticed her shrivelled and shaking fingers +tightly clasped upon a roll of money in her lap. + +"Why, ma'am, what you got?" she cried; but even as she spoke, the +explanation flashed upon her, and she looked up at the corner of the +room. The eight-day clock was gone. + +"Here, ma'am, you let me have it," she said, soothingly; and by dint of +further coaxing, she pulled the money from the old lady's tense +fingers. There were nine dollars in crisp new bills. Amanda sat looking +at them in unbelief and misery. + +"O my!" she whispered, at length, "what a world this is! Ma'am, did you +tell him he might have 'em?" + +"I dunno what Jonathan'll do without that clock," moaned the old lady. +"I see it carried off myself." + +"Did you tell him he might?" cried Amanda, loudly. + +"I dunno but I did, but I never'd ha' thought he'd ha' done it. I dunno +what time 'tis now;" and she continued her low-voiced lamenting. + +"O my Lord!" uttered Amanda, under her breath. Then she roused herself +to the present exigency of comfort. "You come an' set in the kitchen a +spell," she said, coaxingly, "an' I'll go an' get the things back." + +Old Lady Green looked at her with that unquestioning trust which was +the most pathetic accompaniment of her state. "You'll git 'em back, +'Mandy, won't ye?" she repeated, smiling a little and wiping her eyes. +"That's a good gal! So't we can tell what time 'tis." + +Amanda led her into the kitchen, and established her by the window. She +shut the door of the denuded sitting-room, and, giving her courage no +time to cool, ran across lots to the Blaisdells', the hated money +clasped tightly in her hand. The family was at supper, and the stranger +with them, when she walked in at the kitchen door. She hurried up to +her enemy, and laid the little roll of bills by his plate. Her cheeks +were scarlet, her thin hair-flying. + +"Here's your money," she said, in a strained, high voice, "an' I want +our things. You hadn't ought to gone over there an' talked over an old +lady that--that--" + +There she stopped. Amanda had never yet acknowledged that her mother +was not in her "perfect mind." Chapman took out a long pocket-book, and +for a moment her courage stood at flood-tide; she thought he was about +to accept the money and put it away. But no! He produced a slip of +white paper and held it up before her. She bent forward and examined +it,--a receipt signed by her mother's shaking hand. + +"But it ain't right!" she cried, helpless in her dismay. "Cap'n Jabez, +you speak to him! You know how 'tis about mother! She wouldn't any more +ha' sold that clock than she'd ha' sold--me!" + +Captain Jabez looked at his plate in uncomfortable silence. He was a +just man, but he hated to interfere. + +"Well, there!" he said, at length, pushing his chair back to leave the +table. "It don't seem jestly right to me, but then he's got the resate, +an' your mother signed it--an' there 'tis!" + +"An' you won't do anything?" cried Amanda, passionately, turning back +to the stranger. "You mean to keep them things?" + +He was honestly sorry for her, as the business man for the +sentimentalist, but he had made a good bargain, and he held it sacred. + +"I declare, I wish it hadn't happened so," he said, good-naturedly. +"But the old lady'll get over it. You buy her a nice bright little +nickel clock that'll strike the half-hours, and she'll be tickled to +death to watch it." + +Amanda turned away and walked out of the house. + +"Here," called Chapman, "come back and get your money!" But she hurried +on. "Well, I'll leave it with Captain Jabez," he called again, "and you +can come over and get it. I'm going in the morning, early." + +Amanda was passing the barn, and there, through the open door, she saw +the old clock pathetically loaded on the light wagon, protected by +burlap, and tied with ropes. The coverlets lay beside it. A sob rose in +her throat, but her eyes were dry, and she hurried across lots home. At +the back door she found Caleb unharnessing the horse. She had forgotten +their misunderstanding in the present practical emergency. + +"O Caleb," she began, before she had reached him, "ma'am's sold the +clock an' some coverlids, an' I can't get 'em back!" + +"Cap'n Jabez said she had, this arternoon," said Caleb, slowly, tying a +trace. "I dunno's the old lady's to blame. Seem's if she hadn't ought +to be left alone." + +"But how'm I goin' to get 'em back?" persisted Amanda, coming close to +him, her poor little face pinched and eager. "He jest showed me the +receipt, all signed. How'm I goin' to get the things, Caleb?" + +"If he's got the receipt, an' the things an' all, an' she took the +money, I dunno's you can get 'em," said Caleb, "unless you could prove +in a court o' law that she wa'n't in her right mind. I dunno how that +would work." + +Amanda stood looking him in the face. For the first time in all her +gentle life she was questioning masculine superiority, and its present +embodiment in Caleb Rivers. + +"Then you don't see's anything can be done?" she asked, steadily. + +"Why, no," answered Caleb, still reflecting. "Not unless you should go +to law." + +"You'd better give the pigs some shorts," said Amanda, abruptly. "I +sha'n't bile any taters, to-night." + +She walked into the house; and as Caleb watched her, it crossed his +mind that she looked very tall. He had always thought of her as a +little body. + +Amanda set her lips, and went about her work. From time to time, she +smiled mechanically at her mother; and the old lady, forgetful of her +grief now that she was no longer reproached by the empty space on, the +wall, sat content and sleepy after her emotion. She was willing to go +to bed early; and when Amanda heard her breathing peacefully, she sat +down by the kitchen window to wait. The dusk came slowly, and the +whippoorwill sang from the deep woods behind the house. + +That night at ten o'clock, Caleb Rivers was walking stolidly along the +country road, when his ear became aware of a strangely familiar +sound,--a steadily recurrent creak. It was advancing, though +intermittently. Sometimes it ceased altogether, as if the machinery +stopped to rest, and again it began fast and shrill. He rounded a bend +of the road, and came full upon a remarkable vision. Approaching him +was a wheelbarrow, with a long object balanced across it, and, wheeling +it, walked a woman. Caleb was nearly opposite her before his brain +translated the scene. Then he stopped short and opened his lips. + +"'Mandy," he cried, "what under the heavens be you a-doin'?" + +But Amanda did not pause. Whatever emotion the meeting caused in her +was swiftly vanquished, and she wheeled on. Caleb turned and walked by +her side. When he had recovered sufficiently from his surprise, he laid +a hand upon her wrist. + +"You set it down, an' let me wheel a spell," he said. + +But Amanda's small hands only grasped the handles more tightly, and she +went on. Caleb had never in his life seen a necessity for passionate +remonstrance, but now the moment had come. + +"'Mandy," he kept repeating, at every step, "you give me holt o' them +handles! Why, 'Mandy, I should think you was crazy!" + +At length, Amanda dropped the handles with a jerk, and turning about, +sat down on the edge of the wheelbarrow, evidently to keep the right of +possession. Then she began to speak in a high, strained voice, that +echoed sharply through the country stillness. + +"If you've got to know, I'll tell you, an' you can be a witness, if you +want to. It won't do no hurt in a court o' law, because I shall tell +myself. I've gone an' got our clock an' our coverlids from where they +were stored in the Blaisdells' barn. The man's got his money, an' I've +took our things. That's all I've done, an' anybody can know it that's a +mind to." + +Then she rose, lifted the handles, and went on, panting. Caleb walked +by her side. + +"But you ain't afraid o' me, 'Mandy?" he said, imploringly. "Jest you +let me wheel it, an' I won't say a word if I never set eyes on you +ag'in. Jest you let me wheel, 'Mandy." + +"There ain't anybody goin' to touch a finger to it but me," said +Amanda, shortly. "If anybody's got to be sent to jail for it, it'll be +me. I can't talk no more. I 'ain't got any breath to spare." + +But the silence of years had been broken, and Caleb kept on. + +"Why, I was goin' over to Blaisdell's myself to buy 'em back. Here's my +wallet an' my bank-book. Don't that prove it? I was goin' to pay any +price he asked. I set an' mulled over it all the evenin'. It got late, +an' then I started. It al'ays has took me a good long spell to make up +my mind to things. I wa'n't to blame this arternoon because I couldn't +tell what was best to do all of a whew!" + +At the beginning of this revelation, Amanda's shoulders twitched +eloquently, but she said nothing. She reached the gate of the farmyard, +and wheeled in, panting painfully as she ascended the rise of the +grassy driveway. She toiled round to the back door; and then Caleb saw +that she had prepared for her return by leaving the doors of the +cellar-case open, and laying down a board over the steps. She turned +the wheelbarrow to descend; and Caleb, seeing his opportunity, ran +before to hold back its weight. Amanda did not prevent him; she had no +breath left for remonstrance. When the clock was safely in the cellar, +she went up the steps again, hooked the bulkhead door, and turned, even +in the darkness, unerringly to the flight of stairs. + +"You wait till I open the door into the kitchen," she said. "There's a +light up there." + +And Caleb plodded up the stairs after her with his head down, amazed +and sorrowful. + +"You can stay here," said Amanda, opening the outside door without +looking at him. "I'm goin' back to Cap'n Blaisdell's." + +She hurried out into the moonlit path across lots, and Caleb followed. +They entered the yard, and Amanda walked up to the window belonging to +the best bedroom. It was wide open, and she rapped on it loudly, and +then turned her back. + +"Hello!" came a sleepy voice from within. + +"I've got to speak to you," called Amanda. "You needn't get up. Be you +awake?" + +"I guess so," said the voice, this time several feet nearer the window. +"What's up?" + +"I've been over an' got our clock an' the rest of our things," said +Amanda, steadily. "An', you've got your money. I've carried the things +home an' fastened 'em up. They're down cellar under the arch, an' I'm +goin' to set over 'em till I drop afore anybody lays a finger on 'em +again. An' you can go to law if you're a mind to; _but I've got our +things_!" + +There was a silence. Amanda felt that the stranger's eyes were fastened +upon her back, and she tried not to tremble. Caleb knew they were, for +he and the man faced each other. + +"Well, now, you know you've as good as stole my property," began +Chapman; but at that instant, Caleb's voice broke roughly upon the air. + +"You say that ag'in," said he, "an' I'll horsewhip you within an inch +of your life. You touch them things ag'in, an' I'll break every bone in +your body. I dunno whose they be, accordin' to rights, but by gum!--" +and he stopped, for words will fail where a resolute heart need not. + +There was again a silence, and the stranger spoke: "Well, well!" he +said, good-naturedly. "I guess we'll have to call it square. I don't +often do business this way; but if you'll let me alone, I'll let you +alone. Good luck to you!" + +Amanda's heart melted. "You're real good!" she cried, and turned +impulsively; but when she faced the white-shirted form at the window, +she ejaculated, "Oh, my!" and fled precipitately round the corner of +the house. + +Side by side, the two took their way across lots again. Amanda was +shaking all over, with weariness and emotion spent. Suddenly a strange +sound at her side startled her into scrutiny of Caleb's face. + +"Why, Caleb Rivers!" she exclaimed, in amazement, "you ain't cryin'?" + +"I dunno what I'm doin'," said Caleb, brushing off two big tears with +his jumper sleeve, "an' I don't much care. It ain't your harnessin' for +yourself an' feedin' the pigs, an' my not comin' Saturday night, but +it's seein' you wheelin' that great thing all alone. An' you're so +little, 'Mandy! I never thought much o' myself, an' it al'ays seemed +kind o' queer you could think anything _of_ me; but I al'ays s'posed +you'd let me do the heft o' the work, an' not cast me off!" + +"I 'ain't cast you off, Caleb," said Amanda, faintly, and in spite of +herself her slender figure turned slightly but still gratefully toward +him. And that instant, for the first time in all their lives, Caleb's +arms were upholding her, and Amanda had received her crown. Caleb had +kissed her. + +"Say, 'Mandy," said he, when they parted, an hour later, by the syringa +bush at the back door, "the world won't come to an end if you don't +iron of a Tuesday. I was thinkin' we could ketch Passon True about ten +o'clock better'n we could in the arternoon." + + + + +JOINT OWNERS IN SPAIN. + + +The Old Ladies' Home, much to the sorrow of its inmates, "set back from +the road." A long, box-bordered walk led from the great door down to +the old turnpike, and thickly bowering lilac-bushes forced the eye to +play an unsatisfied hide-and-seek with the view. The sequestered old +ladies were quite unreconciled to their leaf-hung outlook; active life +was presumably over for them, and all the more did they long to "see +the passing" of the little world which had usurped their places. The +house itself was very old, a stately, square structure, with pillars on +either side of the door, and a fanlight above. It had remained +unpainted now for many years, and had softened into a mellow +lichen-gray, so harmonious and pleasing in the midst of summer's vital +green, that the few artists who ever heard of Tiverton sought it out, +to plant umbrella and easel in the garden, and sketch the stately +relic; photographers, also, made it one of their accustomed haunts. Of +the artists the old ladies disapproved, without a dissenting voice. It +seemed a "shaller" proceeding to sit out there in the hot sun for no +result save a wash of unreal colors on a white ground, or a few hasty +lines indicating no solid reality; but the photographers were their +constant delight, and they rejoiced in forming themselves into groups +upon, the green, to be "took" and carried away with the house. + +One royal winter's day, there was a directors' meeting in the great +south room, the matron's parlor, a sprat bearing the happy charm of +perfect loyalty to the past, with its great fireplace, iron dogs and +crane, its settle and entrancing corner cupboards. The hard-working +president of the board was speaking hastily and from a full heart, +conscious that another instant's discussion might bring the tears to +her eyes:-- + +"May I be allowed to say--it's irrelevant, I know, but I should like +the satisfaction of saying it--that this is enough to make one vow +never to have anything to do with an institution of any sort, from this +time forth for evermore?" + +For the moment had apparently come when a chronic annoyance must be +recognized as unendurable. They had borne with the trial, inmates and +directors, quite as cheerfully as most ordinary people accept the +inevitable; but suddenly the tension had become too great, and the +universal patience snapped. Two of the old ladies, Mrs. Blair and Miss +Dyer, who were settled in the Home for life, and who, before going +there, had shown no special waywardness of temper, had proved utterly +incapable of living in peace with any available human being; and as the +Home had insufficient accommodations, neither could be isolated to +fight her "black butterflies" alone. No inmate, though she were cousin +to Hercules, could be given a room to herself; and the effect of this +dual system on these two, possibly the most eccentric of the number, +had proved disastrous in the extreme. Each had, in her own favorite +fashion, "kicked over the traces," as the matron's son said in +town-meeting (much to the joy of the village fathers), and to such +purpose that, to continue the light-minded simile, very little harness +was left to guide them withal. Mrs. Blair, being "high sperited," like +all the Coxes from whom she sprung, had now so tyrannized over the last +of her series of room-mates, so browbeaten and intimidated her, that +the latter had actually taken to her bed with a slow-fever of +discouragement, announcing that "she'd rather go to the poor-farm and +done with it than resk her life there another night; and she'd like to +know what had become of that hunderd dollars her nephew Thomas paid +down in bills to get her into the Home, for she'd be thankful to them +that laid it away so antic to hand it back afore another night went +over her head, so't she could board somewheres decent till 'twas gone, +and then starve if she'd got to!" + +If Miss Sarah Ann Dyer, known also as a disturber of the public peace, +presented a less aggressive front to her kind, she was yet, in her own +way, a cross and a hindrance to their spiritual growth. She, poor +woman, lived in a scarcely varying state of hurt feeling; her tiny +world seemed to her one close federation, existing for the sole purpose +of infringing on her personal rights; and though she would not take the +initiative in battle, she lifted up her voice in aggrieved lamentation +over the tragic incidents decreed for her alone. She had perhaps never +directly reproached her own unhappy room-mate for selecting a +comfortable chair, for wearing squeaking shoes, or singing "Hearken, ye +sprightly," somewhat early in the morning, but she chanted those ills +through all her waking hours in a high, yet husky tone, broken by +frequent sobs. And therefore, as a result of these domestic whirlwinds +and too stagnant pools, came the directors' meeting, and the helpless +protest of the exasperated president. The two cases were discussed for +an hour longer, in the dreary fashion pertaining to a question which +has long been supposed to have but one side; and then it remained for +Mrs. Mitchell, the new director, to cut the knot with the energy of one +to whom a difficulty is fresh. + +"Has it ever occurred to you to put them together?" asked she. "They +are impossible people; so, naturally, you have selected the very +mildest and most Christian women to endure their nagging. They can't +live with the saints of the earth. Experience has proved that. Put them +into one room, and let them fight it out together." + +The motion was passed with something of that awe ever attending a +Napoleonic decree, and passed, too, with the utmost good-breeding; for +nobody mentioned the Kilkenny cats. The matron compressed her lips and +lifted her brows, but said nothing; having exhausted her own resources, +she was the more willing to take the superior attitude of good-natured +scepticism. + +The moving was speedily accomplished; and at ten o'clock, one morning, +Mrs. Blair was ushered into the room where her forced colleague sat by +the window, knitting. There the two were left alone. Miss Dyer looked +up, and then heaved a tempestuous sigh over her work, in the manner of +one not entirely surprised by its advent, but willing to suppress it, +if such alleviation might be. She was a thin, colorless woman, and +infinitely passive, save at those times when her nervous system +conflicted with the scheme of the universe. Not so Mrs. Blair. She had +black eyes, "like live coals," said her awed associates; and her skin +was soft and white, albeit wrinkled. One could even believe she had +reigned a beauty, as the tradition of the house declared. This morning, +she held her head higher than ever, and disdained expression except +that of an occasional nasal snort. She regarded the room with the air +of an impartial though exacting critic; two little beds covered with +rising-sun quilts, two little pine bureaus, two washstands. The +sunshine lay upon the floor, and in that radiant pathway Miss Dyer sat. + +"If I'd ha' thought I should ha' come to this," began Mrs. Blair, in +the voice of one who speaks perforce after long sufferance, "I'd ha' +died in my tracks afore I'd left my comfortable home down in Tiverton +Holler. Story-'n'-a-half house, a good sullar, an' woods nigh-by full +o' sarsaparilla an' goldthread! I've moved more times in this +God-forsaken place than a Methodist preacher, fust one room an' then +another; an' bad is the best. It was poor pickin's enough afore, but +this is the crowner!" + +Miss Dyer said nothing, but two large tears rolled down and dropped on +her work. Mrs. Blair followed their course with gleaming eyes endowed +with such uncomfortable activity that they seemed to pounce with every +glance. + +"What under the sun be you carryin' on like that for?" she asked, +giving the handle of the water-pitcher an emphatic twitch to make it +even with the world. "You 'ain't lost nobody, have ye, sence I moved in +here?" + +Miss Dyer put aside her knitting with ostentatious abnegation, and +began rocking herself back and forth in her chair, which seemed not of +itself to sway fast enough, and Mrs. Blair's voice rose again, ever +higher and more metallic:-- + +"I dunno what you've got to complain of more'n the rest of us. Look at +that dress you've got on,--a good thick thibet, an' mine's a cheap, +sleazy alpaca they palmed off on me because they knew my eyesight ain't +what it was once. An' you're settin' right there in the sun, gittin' +het through, an' it's cold as a barn over here by the door. My land! if +it don't make me mad to see anybody without no more sperit than a wet +rag! If you've lost anybody, why don't ye say so? An' if it's a mad +fit, speak out an' say that! Give me anybody that's got a tongue in +their head, _I_ say!" + +But Miss Dyer, with an unnecessary display of effort, was hitching her +chair into the darkest corner of the room, the rockers hopelessly +snarling her yarn at every move. + +"I'm sure I wouldn't keep the sun off'n anybody," she said, tearfully. +"It never come into my head to take it up, an' I don't claim no share +of anything. I guess, if the truth was known, 'twould be seen I'd been +used to a house lookin' south, an' the fore-room winders all of a glare +o' light, day in an' day out, an' Madeira vines climbin' over 'em, an' +a trellis by the front door; but that's all past an' gone, past an' +gone! I never was one to take more 'n belonged to me; an' I don't care +who says it, I never shall be. An' I'd hold to that, if 'twas the last +word I had to speak!" + +This negative sort of retort had an enfeebling effect upon Mrs. Blair. + +"My land!" she exclaimed, helplessly. "Talk about my tongue! Vinegar's +nothin' to cold molasses, if you've got to plough through it." + +The other sighed, and leaned her head upon her hand in an attitude of +extreme dejection. Mrs. Blair eyed her with the exasperation of one +whose just challenge has been refused; she marched back and forth +through the room, now smoothing a fold of the counterpane, with vicious +care, and again pulling the braided rug to one side or the other, the +while she sought new fuel for her rage. Without, the sun was lighting +snowy knoll and hollow, and printing the fine-etched tracery of the +trees against a crystal sky. The road was not usually much frequented +in winter time, but just now it had been worn by the week's sledding +into a shining track, and several sleighs went jingling up and down. + +Tiverton was seizing the opportunity of a perfect day and the best of +"going," and was taking its way to market. The trivial happenings of +this far-away world had thus far elicited no more than a passing glance +from Mrs. Blair; she was too absorbed in domestic warfare even to peer +down through the leafless lilac-boughs, in futile wonderment as to +whose bells they might be, ringing merrily past. On one journey about +the room, however, some chance arrested her gaze. She stopped, +transfixed. + +"Forever!" she cried. Her nervous, blue-veined hands clutched at her +apron and held it; she was motionless for a moment. Yet the picture +without would have been quite devoid of interest to the casual eye; it +could have borne little significance save to one who knew the inner +life history of the Tiverton Home, and thus might guess what slight +events wrought all its joy and pain. A young man had set up his camera +at the end of the walk, and thrown the cloth over his head, preparatory +to taking the usual view of the house. Mrs. Blair recovered from her +temporary inaction. She rushed to the window, and threw up the sash. +Her husky voice broke strenuously upon the stillness:-- + +"Here! you keep right where you be! I'm goin' to be took! You wait till +I come!" + +She pulled down the window, and went in haste to the closet, in the +excess of her eagerness stumbling recklessly forward into its depths. + +"Where's my bandbox?" Her voice came piercingly from her temporary +seclusion. "Where'd they put it? It ain't here in sight! My soul! +where's my bunnit?" + +These were apostrophes thrown off in extremity of feeling; they were +not questions, and no listener, even with the most friendly disposition +in the world, need have assumed the necessity of answering. So, wrapped +in oblivion to all earthly considerations save that of her Own inward +gloom, the one person who might have responded merely swayed back and +forth, in martyrized silence. But no such spiritual withdrawal could +insure her safety. Mrs. Blair emerged from the closet, and darted +across the room with the energy of one stung by a new despair. She +seemed about to fall upon the neutral figure in the corner, but seized +the chair-back instead, and shook it with such angry vigor that Miss +Dyer cowered down in no simulated fright. + +"Where's my green bandbox?'" The words were emphasized by cumulative +shakes, "Anybody that's took that away from me ought to be b'iled in +ile! Hangin''s too good for 'em, but le' me git my eye on 'em an' they +shall swing for 't! Yes, they shall, higher 'n Gil'roy's kite!" + +The victim put both trembling hands to her ears. + +"I ain't deef!" she wailed. + +"Deef? I don't care whether you're deef or dumb, or whether you're +nummer'n a beetle! It's my bandbox I'm arter. Isr'el in Egypt! you +might grind some folks in a mortar an' you couldn't make 'em speak!" + +It was of no use. Intimidation had been worse than hopeless; even +bodily force would not avail. She cast one lurid glance at the supine +figure, and gave up the quest in that direction as sheer waste of time. +With new determination, she again essayed the closet, tossing shoes and +rubbers behind her in an unsightly heap, quite heedless of the +confusion of rights and lefts. At last, in a dark corner, behind a blue +chest, she came upon her treasure. Too hurried now for reproaches, she +drew it forth, and with trembling fingers untied the strings. Casting +aside the cover, she produced a huge scoop bonnet of a long-past date, +and setting it on her head, with the same fevered haste, tied over it +the long figured veil destined always to make an inseparable part of +her state array. She snatched her stella shawl from the drawer, threw +it over her shoulders, and ran out of the room. + +Miss Dyer was left quite bewildered by these erratic proceedings, but +she had no mind to question them; so many stories were rife in the Home +of the eccentricities embodied in the charitable phrase "Mis' Blair's +way" that she would scarcely have been amazed had her terrible +room-mate chosen to drive a coach and four up the chimney, or saddle +the broom for a midnight revel. She drew a long breath of relief at the +bliss of solitude, closed her eyes, and strove to regain the lost +peace, which, as she vaguely remembered, had belonged to her once in a +shadowy past. + +Silence had come, but not to reign. Back flew Mrs. Blair, like a +whirlwind. Her cheeks wore each a little hectic spot; her eyes were +flaming. The figured veil, swept rudely to one side, was borne +backwards on the wind of her coming, and her thin hair, even in those +few seconds, had become wildly disarranged. + +"He's gone!" she announced, passionately. "He kep' right on while I was +findin' my bunnit. He come to take the house, an' he'd ha' took me an' +been glad. An' when I got that plaguy front door open, he was jest +drivin' away; an' I might ha' hollered till I was black in the face, +an' then I couldn't ha' made him hear." + +"I dunno what to say, nor what not to," remarked Miss Dyer, to her +corner. "If I speak, I'm to blame; an' so I be if I keep still." + +The other old lady had thrown herself into a chair, and was looking +wrathfully before her. + +"It's the same man that come from Sudleigh last August," she said, +bitterly. "He took the house then, an' said he wanted another view when +the leaves was off; an' that time I was laid up with my stiff ankle, +an' didn't git into it, an' to-day my bunnit was hid, an' I lost it +ag'in." + +Her voice changed. To the listener, it took on an awful meaning. + +"An' I should like to know whose fault it was. If them that owns the +winder, an' set by it till they see him comin', had spoke up an' said, +'Mis' Blair, there's the photograph man. Don't you want to be took?' it +wouldn't ha' been too late! If anybody had answered a civil question, +an' said, 'Your bunnit-box sets there behind my blue chist,' it +wouldn't ha' been too late then! An' I 'ain't had my likeness took +sence I was twenty year old, an' went to Sudleigh Fair in my changeable +_visite_ an' leghorn hat, an' Jonathan wore the brocaded weskit he +stood up in, the next week Thursday. It's enough to make a minister +swear!" + +Miss Dyer rocked back and forth. + +"Dear me!" she wailed. "Dear me suz!" + +The dinner-bell rang, creating a blessed diversion. Miss Blair, +rendered absent-minded by her grief, went to the table still in her +bonnet and veil; and this dramatic entrance gave rise to such morbid +though unexpressed curiosity that every one forbore, for a time, to +wonder why Miss Dyer did not appear. Later, however, when a tray was +prepared and sent up to her (according to the programme of her bad +days), the general commotion reached an almost unruly point, stimulated +as it was by the matron's son, who found an opportunity to whisper one +garrulous old lady that Miss Dyer had received bodily injury at the +hands of her roommate, and that Mrs. Blair had put on her bonnet to be +ready for the sheriff when he should arrive. This report, judiciously +started, ran like prairie fire; and the house was all the afternoon in +a pleasant state of excitement. Possibly the matron will never know why +so many of the old ladies promenaded the corridors from dinnertime +until long after early candlelight, while a few kept faithful yet +agitated watch from the windows. For interest was divided; some +preferred to see the sheriff's advent, and others found zest in the +possibility of counting the groans of the prostrate victim. + +When Mrs. Blair returned to the stage of action, she was much refreshed +by her abundant meal and the strong tea which three times daily +heartened her for battle. She laid aside her bonnet, and carefully +folded the veil. Then she looked about her, and, persistently ignoring +all the empty chairs, fixed an annihilating gaze on one where the +dinner-tray still remained. + +"I s'pose there's no need o' my settin' down," she remarked, bitingly. +"It's all in the day's work. Some folks are waited on; some ain't. Some +have their victuals brought to 'em an' pushed under their noses, an' +some has to go to the table; when they're there, they can take it or +leave it. The quality can keep their waiters settin' round day in an' +day out, fillin' up every chair in the room. For my part, I should +think they'd have an extension table moved in, an' a snowdrop cloth +over it!" + +Miss Dyer had become comparatively placid, but now she gave way to +tears. + +"Anybody can move that waiter that's a mind to," she said, tremulously. +"I would myself, if I had the stren'th; but I 'ain't got it. I ain't a +well woman, an' I 'ain't been this twenty year. If old Dr. Parks was +alive this day, he'd say so. 'You 'ain't never had a chance,' he says +to me. 'You've been pull-hauled one way or another sence you was born.' +An' he never knew the wust on't, for the wust hadn't come." + +"Humph!" It was a royal and explosive note. It represented scorn for +which Mrs. Blair could find no adequate utterance. She selected the +straightest chair in the room, ostentatiously turned its back to her +enemy, and seated herself. Then, taking out her knitting, she strove to +keep silence; but that was too heavy a task, and at last she broke +forth, with renewed bitterness,-- + +"To think of all the wood I've burnt up in my kitchen stove an' +air-tight, an' never thought nothin' of it! To think of all the wood +there is now, growin' an' rottin' from Dan to Beersheba, an' I can't +lay my fingers on it!" + +"I dunno what you want o' wood. I'm sure this room's warm enough." + +"You don't? Well, I'll tell ye. I want some two-inch boards, to nail up +a partition in the middle o' this room, same as Josh Marden done to +spite his wife. I don't want more'n my own, but I want it mine." + +Miss Dyer groaned, and drew an uncertain hand across her forehead. + +"You wouldn't have no gre't of an outlay for boards," she said, +drearily. "'Twouldn't have to be knee-high to keep me out. I'm no hand +to go where I ain't wanted; an' if I ever was, I guess I'm cured on't +now." + +Mrs. Blair dropped her knitting in her lap. For an instant, she sat +there motionless, in a growing rigidity; but light was dawning in her +eyes. Suddenly she came to her feet, and tossed her knitting on the +bed. + +"Where's that piece o' chalk you had when you marked out your +tumbler-quilt?" The words rang like a martial order. + +Miss Dyer drew it forth from the ancient-looking bag, known as a cavo, +which was ever at her side. + +"Here 'tis," she said, in her forlornest quaver. "I hope you won't do +nothin' out o' the way with it. I should hate to git into trouble here. +I ain't that kind." + +Mrs. Blair was too excited to hear or heed her. She was briefly, +flashingly, taking in the possibilities of the room, her bright black +eyes darting here and there with fiery insistence. Suddenly she went to +the closet, and, diving to the bottom of a baggy pocket in her "t'other +dress," drew forth a ball of twine. She chalked it, still in delighted +haste, and forced one end upon her bewildered room-mate. + +"You go out there to the middle square o' the front winder," she +commanded, "an' hold your end o' the string down on the floor. I'll +snap it." + +Miss Dyer cast one despairing glance about her, and obeyed. + +"Crazy!" she muttered. "Oh my land! she's crazy's a loon. I wisht Mis' +Mitchell'd pitch her tent here a spell!" + +But Mrs. Blair was following out her purpose in a manner exceedingly +methodical. Drawing out one bed, so that it stood directly opposite her +kneeling helper, she passed the cord about the leg of the bedstead and +made it fast; then, returning to the middle of the room, she snapped +the line triumphantly. A faint chalk-mark was left upon the floor. + +"There!" she cried. "Leggo! Now, you gi' me the chalk, an' I'll go over +it an' make it whiter." + +She knelt and chalked with the utmost absorption, crawling along on her +knees, quite heedless of the despised alpaca; and Miss Dyer, hovering +in a corner, timorously watched her. Mrs. Blair staggered to her feet, +entangled by her skirt, and pitching like a ship at sea. + +"There!" she announced. "Now here's two rooms. The chalk-mark's the +partition. You can have the mornin' sun, for I'd jest as soon live by a +taller candle if I can have somethin' that's my own. I'll chalk a lane +into the closet, an' we'll both keep a right o' way there. Now I'm to +home, an' so be you. Don't you dast to speak a word to me unless you +come an' knock here on my headboard,--that's the front door,--an' I +won't to you. Well, if I ain't glad to be alone! I've hung my harp on a +willer long enough!" + +It was some time before the true meaning of the new arrangement +penetrated Miss Dyer's slower intelligence; but presently she drew her +chair nearer the window and thought a little, chuckling as she did so. +She, too, was alone. + +The sensation was new and very pleasant. Mrs. Blair went back and forth +through the closet-lane, putting her clothes away, with high good +humor. Once or twice she sang a little--Derby's Ram and Lord Lovel--in +a cracked voice. She was in love with solitude. + +Just before tea, Mrs. Mitchell, in some trepidation, knocked at the +door, to see the fruits of contention present and to come. She had +expected to hear loud words; and the silence quite terrified her, +emphasizing, as it did, her own guilty sense of personal +responsibility. Miss Dyer gave one appealing look at Mrs. Blair, and +then, with some indecision, went to open the door, for the latch was in +her house. + +"Well, here you are, comfortably settled!" began Mrs. Mitchell. She had +the unmistakable tone of professional kindliness; yet it rang clear and +true. "May I come in?" + +"Set right down here," answered Miss Dyer, drawing forward a chair. +"I'm real pleased to see ye." + +"And how are you this afternoon?" This was addressed to the occupant of +the other house, who, quite oblivious to any alien presence, stood +busily rubbing the chalk-marks from her dress. + +Mrs. Blair made no answer. She might have been stone deaf, and as dumb +as the hearthstone bricks. Mrs. Mitchell cast an alarmed glance at her +entertainer. + +"Isn't she well?" she said, softly. + +"It's a real pretty day, ain't it?" responded Miss Dyer. "If 'twas +summer time, I should think there'd be a sea turn afore night. I like a +sea turn myself. It smells jest like Old Boar's Head." + +"I have brought you down some fruit." Mrs. Mitchell was still anxiously +observing the silent figure, now absorbed in an apparently futile +search in a brocaded work-bag. "Mrs. Blair, do you ever cut up bananas +and oranges together?" + +No answer. The visitor rose, and unwittingly stepped across the +dividing line. + +"Mrs. Blair--" she began, but she got no further. + +Her hostess turned upon her, in surprised welcome. + +"Well, if it ain't Mis' Mitchell! I can't say I didn't expect you, for +I see you goin' into Miss Dyer's house not more'n two minutes ago. +Seems to me you make short calls. Now set right down here, where you +can see out o' the winder. That square's cracked, but I guess the +directors'll put in another." + +Mrs. Mitchell was amazed, but entirely interested. It was many a long +day since any person, official or private, had met with cordiality from +this quarter. + +"I hope you and our friend are going to enjoy your room together," she +essayed, with a hollow cheerfulness. + +"I expect to be as gay as a cricket," returned Mrs. Blair, innocently. +"An' I do trust I've got good neighbors. I like to keep to myself, but +if I've got a neighbor, I want her to be somebody you can depend upon." + +"I'm sure Miss Dyer means to be very neighborly." The director turned, +with a smile, to include that lady in the conversation. But the local +deafness had engulfed her. She was sitting peacefully by the window, +with the air of one retired within herself, to think her own very +remote thoughts. The visitor mentally improvised a little theory, and +it seemed to fit the occasion. They had quarrelled, she thought, and +each was disturbed at any notice bestowed on the other. + +"I have been wondering whether you would both like to go sleighing with +me some afternoon?" she ventured, with the humility so prone to assail +humankind in a frank and shrewish presence. "The roads are in wonderful +condition, and I don't believe you'd take cold. Do you know, I found +Grandmother Eaton's foot-warmers, the other day! I'll bring them +along." + +"Law! I'd go anywheres to git out o' here," said Mrs. Blair, +ruthlessly. "I dunno when I've set behind a horse, either. I guess the +last time was the day I rid up here for good, an' then I didn't feel +much like lookin' at outdoor. Well, I guess you _be_ a new director, or +you never'd ha' thought on't!" + +"How do you feel about it, Miss Dyer?" asked the visitor. "Will you +go,--perhaps on, Wednesday?" + +The other householder moved uneasily. Her hands twitched at their +knitting; a flush came over her cheeks, and she cast a childishly +appealing glance at her neighbor across the chalkline. Her eyes were +filling fast with tears. "Save me!" her look seemed to entreat "Let me +not lose this happy fortune!" Mrs. Blair interpreted the message, and +rose to the occasion with the vigor of the intellectually great. + +"Mis' Mitchell," she said, clearly, "I may be queer in my notions, but +it makes me as nervous as a witch to have anybody hollerin' out o' my +winders. I don't care whether it's company nor whether it's my own +folks. If you want to speak to Miss Dyer, you come along here after +me,--don't you hit the partition now!--right out o' my door an' into +her'n. Here, I'll knock! Miss Dyer, be you to home?" + +The little old lady came forward, fluttering and radiant in the excess +of her relief. + +"Yes, I guess I be," she said, "an' all alone, too! I see you go by the +winder, an' I was in' hopes you'd come in!" + +Then the situation dawned upon Mrs. Mitchell with an effect vastly +surprising to the two old pensioners. She turned from one to the other, +including them both in a look of warm loving-kindness. It was truly an +illumination. Hitherto, they had thought chiefly of her winter cloak +and nodding ostrich plume; now, at last, they saw her face, and read +some part of its message. + +"You poor souls!" she cried. "Do you care so much as that? 'O you poor +souls!" + +Miss Dyer fingered her apron and looked at the floor, but her companion +turned brusquely away, even though she trod upon the partition in her +haste. + +"Law! it's nothin' to make such a handle of" she said. "Folks don't +want to be under each other's noses all the time. I dunno's anybody +could stan' it, unless 'twas an emmet. They seem to git along swarmin' +round together." + +Mrs. Mitchell left the room abruptly. + +"Wednesday or Thursday, then!" she called over her shoulder. + +The next forenoon, Mrs. Blair made her neighbor a long visit. Both old +ladies had their knitting, and they sat peacefully swaying back and +forth, recalling times past, and occasionally alluding to their happy +Wednesday. + +"What I really come in for," said Mrs. Blair, finally, "was to ask if +you don't think both our settin'-rooms need new paper." + +The other gave one bewildered glance about her. + +"Why, 'tain't been on more 'n two weeks," she began; and then +remembrance awoke in her, and she stopped. It was not the scene of +their refuge and conflict that must be considered; it was the house of +fancy built by each unto herself. Invention did not come easily to her +as yet, and she spoke with some hesitation. + +"I've had it in mind myself quite a spell, but somehow I 'ain't been +able to fix on the right sort o' paper." + +"What do you say to a kind of a straw color, all lit up with tulips?" +inquired Mrs. Blair; triumphantly. + +"Ain't that kind o' gay?" + +"Gay? Well, you want it gay, don't ye? I dunno why folks seem to think +they've got to live in a hearse because they expect to ride in one! +What if we be gittin' on a little mite in years? We ain't underground +yit, be we? I see a real good ninepenny paper once, all covered over +with green brakes. I declare if 'twa'n't sweet pretty! Well, whether I +paper or whether I don't, I've got some thoughts of a magenta sofy. I'm +tired to death o' that old horsehair lounge that sets in my clock-room. +Sometimes I wish the moths would tackle it, but I guess they've got +more sense. I've al'ays said to myself I'd have a magenta sofy when I +could git round to it, and I dunno's I shall be any nearer to it than I +be now." + +"Well, you _are_ tasty," said Miss Dyer, in some awe. "I dunno how you +come to think o' that!" + +"Priest Rowe had one when I wa'n't more 'n twenty. Some o' his +relations give it to him (he married into the quality), an' I remember +as if 'twas yisterday what a tew there was over it. An' I said to +myself then, if ever I was prospered I'd have a magenta sofy. I 'ain't +got to it till now, but now I'll have it if I die for't." + +"Well, I guess you're in the right on't." Miss Dyer spoke absently, +glancing from the window in growing trouble. "O Mis' Blair!" she +continued, with a sudden burst of confidence, "you don't think there's a +storm brewin', do you? If it snows Wednesday, I shall give up beat!" + +Mrs. Blair, in her turn, peered at the smiling sky. + +"I hope you ain't one o' them kind that thinks every fair day's a +weather breeder," she said. "Law, no! I don't b'lieve it will storm; +an' if it does, why, there's other Wednesdays comin'!" + + + + +AT SUDLEIGH FAIR. + + +Delilah Joyce was sitting on her front doorstone with a fine disregard +of the fact that her little clock had struck eight of the morning, +while her bed was still unmade. The Tiverton folk who disapproved of +her shiftlessness in letting the golden hours, run thus to waste, did +grudgingly commend her for airing well. Her bed might not even be +spread up till sundown, but the sheets were always hanging from her +little side window, in fine weather, flapping dazzlingly in the sun; +and sometimes her feather-bed lay, the whole day long, on the green +slope outside, called by Dilly her "spring," only because the snow +melted first there on the freedom days of the year. The new editor of +the Sudleigh "Star," seeing her slight, wiry figure struggling with the +bed like a very little ant under a caterpillar all too large, was once +on the point of drawing up his horse at her gate. He was a chivalrous +fellow, and he wanted to help; but Brad Freeman, hulking by with his +gun at the moment, stopped him. + +"That's only Dilly wrastlin' with, her bed," he called back, in the act +of stepping over the wall into the meadow. "'Twon't do no good to take +holt once, unless you're round here every mornin' 'bout the same time. +Dilly'll git the better on't. She al'ays does." So the editor laughed, +put down another Tiverton custom in his mental notebook, and drove on. + +Dilly was a very little woman, with abnormally long and sinewy arms. +Her small, rather delicate face had a healthy coat of tan, and her +iron-gray hair was braided with scrupulous care. She resembled her own +house to a striking degree; she was fastidiously neat, but not in the +least orderly. The Tiverton housekeepers could not appreciate this +attitude in reference to the conventional world. It was all very well +to keep the kitchen floor scrubbed, but they did believe, also, in +seeing the table properly set, and in finishing the washing by eight +o'clock on Monday morning. Now Dilly seldom felt inclined to set any +table at all. She was far more likely to take her bread and milk under +a tree; and as for washing, Thursday was as good a day as any, she was +wont to declare. Moreover, the tradition of hanging garments on the +line according to a severely classified system, did not in the least +appeal to her. + +"I guess a petticoat'll dry jest as quick if it's hung 'side of a +nightgown," she told her critics, drily. "An' when you come to hangin' +stockin's by the pair, better separate 'em, I say! Like man an' wife! +Give 'em a vacation, once in a while, an' love'll live the longer!" + +Dilly was thinking, this morning, of all the possibilities of the +lovely, shining day. So many delights lay open to her! She could take +her luncheon in her pocket, and go threading through the woods behind +her house. She could walk over to Pine Hollow, to see how the cones +were coming on, and perchance scrape together a basket of pine needles, +to add to her winter's kindling; or she might, if the world and the +desires thereof assailed her, visit Sudleigh Fair. Better still, she +need account to nobody if she chose to sit there on the doorstone, and +let the hours go unregretted by. Presently, her happy musing was broken +by a ripple from the outer world. A girl came briskly round the corner +where the stone-wall lay hidden under a wilderness of cinnamon +rosebushes and blackberry vines,--Rosa Tolman, dressed in white +_piqué_, with a great leghorn hat over her curls. The girl came +hurrying up the path, with a rustle of starched petticoats, and still +Dilly kept her trance-like posture. + +"I know who 'tis!" she announced, presently, in a declamatory voice. +"It's Rosy Tolman, an' she's dressed in white, with red roses, all +complete, an' she's goin' to Sudleigh Cattle-Show." + +Rosa lost a shade of pink from her cheeks. Her round blue eyes widened, +in an unmistakable terror quite piteous to see. + +"O Dilly!" she quavered, "how do you know such things? Why, you 'ain't +looked at me!" + +Dilly opened her eyes, and chuckled in keen enjoyment. + +"Bless ye!" she said, "I can't help imposin' on ye, no more 'n a cat +could help ketchin' a mouse, if't made a nest down her throat. Why, I +see ye comin' round the corner! But when folks thinks you're a witch, +it ain't in human natur' not to fool 'em. I _am_ a witch, ain't I, +dear? Now, ain't I?" + +Rosa's color had faltered back, but she still stood visibly in awe of +her old neighbor. + +"Well," she owned, "Elvin Drew says you can see in the dark, but I +don't know's he means anything by it." + +Again Dilly broke into laughter, rocking back and forth, in happy +abandonment. + +"I can!" she cried, gleefully. "You tell him I can! An' when I can't, +folks are so neighborly they strike a light for me to see by. You tell +him! Well, now, what is it? You've come to ask suthin'. Out with it!" + +"Father told me to come over, and see if you can't tell something about +our cows. They're all drying up, and he don't see any reason why." + +Dilly nodded her head sagely. + +"You'd better ha' come sooner," she announced. "You tell him he must +drive 'em to pastur' himself, an' go arter 'em, too." + +"Why?" + +"An' you tell him to give Davie a Saturday, here an' there, to go +fishin' in, an' not let him do so many chores. Now, you hear! Your +father must drive the cows, an' he must give Davie time to play a +little, or there'll be dark days comin', an' he won't be prepared for +'em." + +"My!" exclaimed Rosa, blankly. "My! Ain't it queer! It kind o' scares +me. But, Dilly,"--she turned about, so that only one flushed cheek +remained visible,--"Dilly, 'ain't you got something to say to me? We're +going to be married next Tuesday, Elvin and me. It's all right, ain't +it?" + +Dilly bent forward, and peered masterfully into her face. She took the +girl's plump pink handy and drew her forward. Rosa, as if compelled by +some unseen force, turned about, and allowed her frightened gaze to lie +ensnared by the witch's great black eyes. Dilly began, in a deep +intense voice, with the rhythm of the Methodist exhorter, though on a +lower key,-- + +"Two years, that boy's been arter you. Two years, you trampled on him +as if he'd been the dust under your feet. He was poor an' strugglin'. +He was left with his mother to take care on, an' a mortgage to work off. +An' then his house burnt down, an' he got his insurance money; an' that +minute, you turned right round an' says, 'I'll have you.' An' now, you +say, 'Is it all right?' _Is_ it right, Rosy Tolman? You tell _me_!" + +Rosa was sobbing hysterically. + +"Oh, I wish you wouldn't scare me so!" she exclaimed, yet not for a +moment attempting to withdraw her hand, or turn aside her terrified +gaze. "I wish I never'd said one word!" + +Dilly broke the spell as lightly as she had woven it. A smile passed +over her face, like a charm, dispelling all its prophetic fervor. + +"There! there!" she said, dropping the girl's hand. "I thought I'd +scare ye! What's the use o' bein' a witch, if ye can't upset folks? Now +don't cry, an' git your cheeks all blotched up afore Elvin calls to +fetch ye, with that hired horse, an' take ye to the Cattle-Show! But +don't ye forgit what I say! You remember we ain't goin' to wait for the +Day o' Judgment, none on us. It comes every hour. If Gabriel was +tootin', should you turn fust to Elvin Drew, an' go up or down with +him, wherever he was 'lected? That's what you've got to think on; not +your new hat nor your white _pique_. (Didn't iron it under the +overskirt, did ye? How'd I know? Law! how's a witch know anything?) +Now, you 'ain't opened your bundle, dear, have ye? Raisin-cake in it, +ain't there?" + +Rosa bent suddenly forward, and placed the package in Dilly's lap. In +spite of the bright daylight all about her, she was frightened; if a +cloud had swept over, she must have screamed. + +"I don't know how you found it out," she whispered, "but _'tis_ +raisin-cake. Mother sent it. She knew I was going to ask you about the +cows. She said I was to tell you, too, there's some sickness over to +Sudleigh, and she thought you could go over there nussing, if you +wanted to." + +"I 'ain't got time," said Dilly, placidly. "I give up nussin', two year +ago. I 'ain't got any time at all! Well, here they come, don't they? +One for me, an' one for you!" + +A light wagon, driven rapidly round the corner, drew up at the gate. +Elvin Drew jumped down, and helped out his companion, a short, rather +thickset girl, with smooth, dark hair, honest eyes, and a sensitive +mouth. She came quickly up the path, after an embarrassed word of +thanks to the young man. + +"He took me in," she began, almost apologetically to Rosa, who surveyed +her with some haughtiness. "I was comin' up here to see Dilly, an' he +offered me a ride." + +Rosa's color and spirits had returned, at the sight of her tangible +ally at the gate. + +"Well, I guess I must be going," she said, airily. "Elvin won't want to +wait. Good-by, Dilly! I'll tell father. Good-by, Molly Drew!" + +But Dilly followed her down to the road, where Elvin stood waiting with +the reins in his hands. He was a very blond young man, with curly hair, +and eyes honest in contour and clear of glance. Perhaps his coloring +impressed one with the fact that he should have looked very young; but +his face shrunk now behind a subtile veil of keen anxiety, of irritated +emotion, which were evidently quite foreign to him. Even a stranger, +looking at him, could hardly help suspecting an alien trouble grafted +upon a healthy stem. He gave Dilly a pleasant little nod, in the act of +turning eagerly to help Rosa into the wagon. But when he would have +followed her, Dilly laid a light but imperative hand on his arm. + +"Don't you want your fortune told?" she asked, meaningly. "Here's the +witch all ready. Ain't it well for me I wa'n't born a hunderd year ago? +Shouldn't I ha' sizzled well? An' now, all there is to burn me is God +A'mighty's sunshine!" + +Elvin laughed lightly. + +"I guess I don't need any fortune," he said. "Mine looks pretty fair +now. I don't feel as if anybody'd better meddle with it." But he had +not withdrawn his arm, and his gaze still dwelt on hers. + +"You know suthin' you don't mean to tell," said Dilly, speaking so +rapidly that although Rosa bent forward to listen, she caught only a +word, here and there. "You think you won't have to tell, but you will. +God A'mighty'll make you. You'll be a stranger among your own folks, +an' a wanderer on the earth; till you tell. There! go along! Go an' see +the punkins an' crazy-quilts!" + +She withdrew her hand, and turned away. Elvin, his face suddenly +blanched, looked after her, fascinated, while she went quickly up the +garden walk. An impatient word from Rosa recalled him to himself, and +he got heavily into the wagon and drove on again. + +When Dilly reached the steps where her new guest had seated herself, +her manner had quite changed. It breathed an open frankness, a sweet +and homely warmth which were very engaging. Molly spoke first. + +"How pleased he is with her!" she said, dreamily. + +"Yes," answered Dilly, "but to-day ain't tomorrer. They're both +light-complected. It's jest like patchwork. Put light an' dark +together, I say, or you won't git no figger. Here, le's have a mite o' +cake! Mis' Tolman's a proper good cook, if her childern _have_ all +turned out ducks, an' took to the water. Every one on 'em's took back +as much as three generations for their noses an' tempers. Strange they +had to go so fur!" + +She broke the rich brown loaf in the middle, and divided a piece +with Molly. Such were the habits calculated to irritate the +conventionalities of Tiverton against her. Who ever heard of breaking +cake when one could go into the house for a knife! They ate in silence, +and the delights of the summer day grew upon Molly as they never did +save when she felt the nearness of this queer little woman. Turn which +side of her personality she might toward you, Dilly could always bend +you to her own train of thought. + +"I come down to talk things over," said Molly, at last, brushing the +crumbs of cake from her lap. "I've got a chance in the shoe-shop." + +"Do tell! Well, ain't that complete? Don't you say one word, now! I +know how 'tis. You think how you'll have to give up the birds' singin', +an' your goin' into the woods arter groundpine, an' stay cooped up in a +boardin'-house to Sudleigh. I know how 'tis! But don't you fret. You +come right here an' stay Sundays, an' we'll eat up the woods an' drink +up the sky! There! It's better for ye, dear. Some folks are made to +live in a holler tree, like me; some ain't. You'll be better on't among +folks." + +Molly's eyes filled with tears. + +"You've been real good to me," she said, simply. + +"I wish I'd begun it afore," responded Dilly, with a quick upward lift +of her head, and her brightest smile. "You see I didn't know ye very +well, for all you'd lived with old Mis' Drew so many year. I 'ain't had +much to do with folks. I knew ye hadn't got nobody except her, but I +knew, too, ye were contented there as a cricket. But when she died, an' +the house burnt down, I begun to wonder what was goin' to become on +ye." + +Molly sat looking over at the pine woods, her lips compressed, her +cheeks slowly reddening. Finally she burst passionately forth,-- + +"Dilly, I'd like to know why I couldn't have got some rooms an' kep' +house for Elvin? His mother's my own aunt!" + +"She wa'n't his mother, ye know. She was His stepmother, for all they +set so much by one Another. Folks would ha' talked, an' I guess Rosy +wouldn't ha' stood that, even afore they were engaged. Rosy may not +like corn-fodder herself, any more 'n t'other dog did, but she ain't +goin' to see other noses put into't without snappin' at 'em." + +"Well, it's all over," said Molly, drearily. "It 'ain't been hard for +me stayin' round as I've done, an' sewin' for my board; but it's seemed +pretty tough to think of Elvin livin' in that little shanty of Caleb's +an' doin' for himself. I never could see why he didn't board somewheres +decent." + +"Wants to save his six hunderd dollars, to go out West an' start in the +furniture business," said Dilly, succinctly. "Come, Molly, what say to +walkin' over to Sudleigh Cattle-Show?" + +Molly threw aside her listless mood like a garment. + +"Will you?" she cried. "Oh, I'd like to! You know I'm sewin' for Mis' +Eli Pike; an' they asked me to go, but I knew she'd fill up the seat so +I should crowd 'em out of house an' home. Will you, Dilly?" + +"You wait till I git suthin' or other to put over my head," said Dilly, +rising with cheerful decision. "Here, you gi' me that cake! I'll tie it +up in a nice clean piece o' table-cloth, an' then we'll take along a +few eggs, so 't we can trade 'em off for bread an' cheese. You jest +pull in my sheets, an' shet the winder, while I do it. Like as not +there'll be a shower this arternoon." + +When the little gate closed behind them, Molly felt eagerly excited, +as, if she were setting forth for a year's happy wandering. Dilly knew +the ways of the road as well as the wood. She was, as usual, in light +marching order, a handkerchief tied over her smooth braids; another, +slung on a stick over her shoulder, contained their luncheon and the +eggs for barter. All her movements were buoyant and free, like those of +a healthy animal let loose in pleasant pastures. She walked so lightly +that the eggs in the handkerchief were scarcely stirred. + +"See that little swampy patch!" she said, stopping when they had +rounded the curve in the road. "A week or two ago, that was all alive +with redbud flowers. I dunno the right name on 'em, an' I don't care. +Redbirds, I call 'em. I went over there, one day, an' walked along +between the hummocks, spush! spush! You won't find a nicer feelin' than +that, wherever ye go. Take off your shoes an' stockin's, an' wade into +a swamp! Warm, coarse grass atop! Then warm, black mud, an' arter that, +a layer all nice an' cold that goes down to Chiny, fur's I know! That +was the day I meant to git some thoroughwort over there, to dry, but I +looked at the redbird flowers so long I didn't have time, an' I +never've been sence." + +Molly laughed out, with a pretty, free ripple in her voice. + +"You're always sayin' that, Dilly! You never have time for anything but +doin' nothin'!" + +A bright little sparkle came into Dilly's eyes, and she laughed, too. + +"Why, that's what made me give' up nussin' two year ago," she said, +happily. "I wa'n't havin' no time at all. I couldn't live my proper +life. I al'ays knew I should come to that, so I'd raked an' scraped, +an' put into the bank, till I thought I'd got enough to buy me a mite +o' flour while I lived, an' a pine coffin arter I died; an' then I jest +set up my Ebenezer I'd be as free's a bird. Freer, I guess I be, for +they have to scratch pretty hard, come cold weather, an' I bake me a +'tater, an' then go clippin' out over the crust, lookin' at the bare +twigs. Oh, it's complete! If I could live this way, I guess a thousand +years'd be a mighty small dose for me. Look at that goldenrod, over +there by the stump! That's the kind that's got the most smell." + +Molly broke one of the curving plumes. + +"I don't see as it smells at all," she said, still sniffing delicately. + +"Le'me take it! Why, yes, it does, too! Everything smells _some_. +Oftentimes it's so faint it's more like a feelin' than a smell. But +there! you ain't a witch, as I be!" + +"I wish you wouldn't say that!" put in Molly, courageously. "You make +people think you are." + +"Law, then, let 'em!" said Dilly, with a kindly indulgence. "It don't +do them no hurt, an' it gives me more fun'n the county newspaper. +They'd ruther I'd say I was a witch'n tell 'em I've got four eyes an' +eight ears where they 'ain't but two. I tell ye, there's a good deal +missed when ye stay to home makin' pies, an' a good deal ye can learn +if ye live out-door. Why, there's Tolman's cows! He dunno why they dry +up; but I do. He, sends that little Davie with 'em, that don't have no +proper playtime; an' Davie gallops 'em all the way to pastur', so't he +can have a minute to fish in the brook. An' then he gallops 'em home +ag'in, because he's stole a piece out o' the arternoon. I ketched him +down there by the brook, one day, workin' away with a bent pin, an' the +next mornin' I laid a fish-hook on the rock, an' hid in the woods to +see what he'd say. My! I 'guess Jonah wa'n't more tickled when he set +foot on dry land. Here comes the wagons! There's the Poorhouse team +fust, an' Sally Flint settin' up straighter 'n a ramrod. An' there's +Heman an' Roxy! She don't look a day older'n twenty-five. Proper nice +folks, all on 'em, but they make me kind o' homesick jest because they +_be_ folks. They do look so sort o' common in their bunnits an' veils, +an' I keep thinkin' o' little four-legged creatur's, all fur!" The +Tiverton folk saluted them, always cordially, yet each after his kind. +They liked Dilly as a product all their own, but one to be partaken of +sparingly, like some wild, intoxicating root. + +They loved her better at home, too, than at Sudleigh Fair. It was like +a betrayal of their fireside secrets, to see her there in her +accustomed garb; so slight a concession to propriety would have lain in +her putting on a bonnet and shawl! + +As they neared Sudleigh town, the road grew populous with carriages and +farm-wagons, "step and step," not all from Tiverton way, but gathered +in from the roads converging here. Men were walking up and down the +market street, crying their whips, their toy balloons, and a multitude +of cheaper gimcracks. + +"Forty miles from home! forty miles from home!" called one, more +imaginative than the rest. "And no place to lay my head! That's why I'm +selling these little whips here to-day, a stranger in a strange land. +Buy one! buy one! and the poor pilgrim'll have a supper and a bed! Keep +your money in your pocket, and he's a wanderer on the face of the +earth!" + +Dilly, the fearless in her chosen wilds, took a fold of Molly's dress, +and held it tight. + +"You s'pose that's so?" she whispered. "Oh, dear! I 'ain't got a mite +o' money, on'y these six eggs. Oh, why didn't he stay to home, if he's +so possessed to sleep under cover? What does anybody leave their home +_for_, if they've got one?" + +But Molly put up her head, and walked sturdily on. + +"Don't you worry," she counselled, in an undertone. "It don't mean any +more 'n it does when folks say they're sellin' at a sacrifice. I guess +they expect to make enough, take it all together." + +Dilly walked on, quite bewildered. She had lost her fine, joyous +carriage; her shoulders were bent, and her feet shuffled, in a +discouraged fashion, over the unlovely bricks. Molly kept the lead, +with unconscious superiority. + +"Le's go into the store now," she said, "an' swap off the eggs. You'll +be joggled in this crowd, an' break 'em all to smash. Here, you le' me +have your handkerchief! I'll see to it all." She kept the handkerchief +in her hand, after their slight "tradin'" had been accomplished; and +Dilly, too dispirited to offer a word, walked meekly about after her. + +The Fair was held, according to ancient custom, in the town-hall, of +which the upper story had long been given over to Sudleigh Academy. +Behind the hall lay an enormous field, roped in now, and provided with +pens and stalls, where a great assemblage of live-stock lowed, and +grunted, and patiently chewed the cud. + +"Le's go in there fust," whispered Dilly. "I sha'n't feel so strange +there as I do with folks. I guess if the four-footed creatur's can +stan' it, I can. Pretty darlin'!" she added, stopping before a heifer +who had ceased eating and was looking about her with a mild and +dignified gaze. Dilly eagerly sought out a stick, and began to scratch +the delicate head. "Pretty creatur'! Smell o' her breath, Molly! See +her nose, all wet, like pastur' grass afore day! Now, if I didn't want +to live by myself, I'd like to curl me up in a stall, 'side o' her." + +"'Mandy, you an' Kelup come here!" called Aunt Melissa Adams. She +loomed very prosperous, over the way, in her new poplin and her +lace-trimmed cape. "Jest look at these roosters! They've got spurs on +their legs as long's my darnin'-needle. What under the sun makes 'em +grow so! An' ain't they the nippin'est little creatur's you ever see?" + +"They're fightin'-cocks," answered Caleb, tolerantly. + +"Fightin'-cocks? You don't mean to tell me they're trained up for +that?" + +"Yes, I do!" + +"Well, I never heard o' such a thing in a Christian land! never! Whose +be they? I'll give him a piece o' my mind, if I live another minute!" + +"You better let other folks alone," said Caleb, stolidly. + +"'Mandy," returned Aunt Melissa, in a portentous undertone, "be you +goin' to stan' by an' see your own aunt spoke to as if she was the dirt +under your feet?" + +Amanda had once in her life asserted herself at a crucial moment, and +she had never seen cause to regret it. Now she "spoke out" again. She +made her slender neck very straight and stiff, and her lips set +themselves firmly over the words,-- + +"I guess Caleb won't do you no hurt, Aunt Melissa. He don't want you +should make yourself a laughin'-stock, nor I don't either. There's +Uncle Hiram, over lookin' at the pigs. I guess he don't see you. Caleb, +le's we move on!" + +Aunt Melissa stood looking after them, a mass of quivering wrath. + +"Well, I must say!" she retorted to the empty air. "If I live, I must +say!" + +Dilly took her placid companion by the arm, and hurried her on. Human +jangling wore sadly upon her; under such maddening onslaught she was +not incapable of developing "nerves." They stopped before a stall where +another heifer stood, chewing her cud, and looking away into remembered +pastures. + +"Oh, see!" said Molly, "'Price $500'! Do you b'lieve it?" + +"Well, well!" came Mrs. Eli Pike's ruminant voice from the crowd. "I'm +glad I don't own that creatur'! I shouldn't sleep nights if I had five +hunderd dollars in cow." + +"Tain't five hunderd dollars," said Hiram Cole, elbowing his way to the +front. "'Tain't p'inted right, that's all. P'int off two ciphers--" + +"Five dollars!" snickered a Crane boy, diving through the crowd, and +proceeding to stand on his head in a cleared space beyond. "That's wuth +less'n Miss Lucindy's hoss!" + +Hiram Cole considered again, one lean hand stroking his cheek. + +"Five--fifty--" he announced. "Well, I guess _'tis_ five hunderd, arter +all! Anybody must want to invest, though, to put all their income into +perishable cow-flesh!" + +"You look real tired," whispered Molly. "Le's come inside, an' perhaps +we can set down." + +The old hall seemed to have donned strange carnival clothes, +for a mystic Saturnalia. It was literally swaddled in +bedquilts,--tumbler-quilts, rising-suns, Jacob's-ladders, log-cabins, +and the more modern and altogether terrible crazy-quilt. There were +square yards of tidies, on wall and table, and furlongs of home-knit +lace. Dilly looked at this product of the patient art of woman with a +dispirited gaze. + +"Seems a kind of a waste of time, don't it?" she said, dreamily, "when +things are blowin' outside? I wisht I could see suthin' made once to +look as handsome as green buds an' branches. Law, dear, now jest turn +your eyes away from them walls, an' see the tables full of apples! an' +them piles o' carrots, an' cabbages an' squashes over there! Well, +'tain't so bad if you can look at things the sun's ever shone on, no +matter if they be under cover." She wandered up and down the tables, +caressing the rounded outlines of the fruit with her loving gaze. The +apples, rich and fragrant, were a glory and a joy. There were great +pound sweetings, full of the pride of mere bigness; long purple +gilly-flowers, craftily hiding their mealy joys under a sad-colored +skin; and the Hubbardston, a portly creature quite unspoiled by the +prosperity of growth, and holding its lovely scent and flavor like an +individual charm. There was the Bald'in, stand-by old and good as +bread; and there were all the rest. We know them, we who have courted +Pomona in her fair New England orchards. + +Near the fancy-work table sat Mrs. Blair, of the Old Ladies' Home, on a +stool she had wrenched from an unwilling boy, who declared it belonged +up in the Academy, whence he had brought it "to stan' on" while he +drove a nail. And though he besought her to rise and let him return it, +since he alone must be responsible, the old lady continued sitting in +silence. At length she spoke,-- + +"Here I be, an' here I'm goin' to set till the premiums is tacked on. +Them pinballs my neighbor, Mis' Dyer, made with her own hands, an' +she's bent double o' rheumatiz. An' I said I'd bring 'em for her, an' +I'd set by an' see things done fair an' square." + +"There, Mrs. Blair, don't you worry," said Mrs. Mitchell, a director of +the Home, putting a hand on the martial and belligerent shoulder, +"Don't you mind if she doesn't get a premium. I'll buy the pinballs, +and that will do almost as well." + +"My! if there ain't goin' to be trouble between Mary Lamson an' +Sereno's Hattie, I'll miss my guess!" said a matron, with an +appreciative wag of her purple-bonneted head. "They've either on 'em +canned up more preserves 'n Tiverton an' Sudleigh put together, an' +Mary's got I dunno what all among 'em!--squash, an' dandelion, an' +punkin with lemon in't. That's steppin' acrost the bounds, _I_ say! If +she gits a premium for puttin' up gardin-sass, I'll warrant there'll be +a to-do. An' Hattie'll make it!" + +"I guess there won't be no set-to about such small potaters," said Mrs. +Pike, with dignity. Her broad back had been unrecognized by the herald, +careless in her haste. "Hattie's ready an' willin' to divide the +premium, if't comes to her, an' I guess Mary'd be, put her in the same +place." + +"My soul an' body!" exclaimed another, trudging up and waving a large +palmleaf fan. "Well, there, Rosanna Pike! Is that you? Excuse me all, +if I don't stop to speak round the circle, I'm so put to't with Passon +True's carryin's on. You know he's been as mad as hops over Sudleigh +Cattle-Show, reg'lar as the year come round, because there's a raffle +for a quilt, or suthin'. An' now he's come an' set up a sort of a stall +over t'other side the room, an' folks thinks he's tryin' to git up a +revival. I dunno when I've seen John so stirred. He says we hadn't +ought to be made a laughin'-stock to Sudleigh, Passon or no Passon. An' +old Square Lamb says--" + +But the fickle crowd waited to hear no more. With one impulse, it +surged over to the other side of the hall, where Parson True, standing +behind a table brought down from the Academy, was saying solemnly,-- + +"Let us engage in prayer!" + +The whispering ceased; the titters of embarrassment were stilled, and +mothers tightened their grasp on little hands, to emphasize the change +of scene from light to graver hue. Some of the men looked lowering; one +or two strode out of doors. They loved Parson True, but the Cattle-Show +was all their own, and they resented even a ministerial innovation. The +parson was a slender, wiry man, with keen blue eyes, a serious mouth, +and an overtopping forehead, from which the hair was always brushed +straight back. He called upon the Lord, with passionate fervor, to +"bless this people in all their outgoings and comings-in, and to keep +their feet from paths where His blessing could not attend them." + +"Is that the raffle, mother?" whispered the smallest Crane boy; and his +mother promptly administered a shake, for the correction of misplaced +curiosity. + +Then Parson True opened his eyes on his somewhat shamefaced flock and +their neighbor townsmen, and began to preach. It was good to be there, +he told them, only as it was good to be anywhere else, in the spirit of +God. Judgment might overtake them there, as it might at home, in house +or field. Were they prepared? He bent forward over the table, his slim +form trembling with the intensity of gathering passion. He appealed to +each one personally with that vibratory quality of address peculiar to +him, wherein it seemed that not only his lips but his very soul +challenged the souls before him. One after another joined the outer +circle, and faces bent forward over the shoulders in front, with that +strange, arrested expression inevitably born when, on the flood of +sunny weather, we are reminded how deep the darkness is within the +grave. + +"Let every man say to himself, 'Thou, God, seest me!'" reiterated the +parson. "Thou seest into the dark corners of my heart. What dost Thou +see, O God? What dost Thou see?" + +Elvin and Rosa had drawn near with the others. She smiled a little, and +the hard bloom on her cheeks had not wavered. No one looked at them, +for every eye dwelt on the preacher; and though Elvin's face changed +from the healthy certainty of life and hope to a green pallor of +self-recognition, no one noticed. Consequently, the general surprise +culminated in a shock when he cried out, in a loud voice, "God be +merciful! God be merciful! I ain't fit to be with decent folks! I'd +ought to be in jail!" and pushed his way through the crowd until he +stood before the parson, facing him with bowed head, as if he found in +the little minister the vicegerent of God. He had kept Rosa's hand in a +convulsive grasp, and he drew her with him into the eye of the world. +She shrank back, whimpering feebly; but no one took note of her. The +parson knew exactly what, to do when the soul travailed and cried +aloud. He stretched forth his hands, and put them on the young man's +shoulders. + +"Come, poor sinner, come!" he urged, in a voice of wonderful melting +quality. "Come! Here is the throne of grace! Bring your burden, and +cast it down." + +The words roused Elvin, or possibly the restraining touch. He started +back. + +"I can't!" he cried out, stridently. "I can't yet! I can't! I can't!" + +Still leading Rosa, who was crying now in good earnest, he turned, and +pushed his way out of the crowd. But once outside that warm human +circuit, Rosa broke loose from him. She tried to speak for his ear +alone, but her voice strove petulantly through her sobs: + +"Elvin Drew, I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself! You've made +me ridiculous before the whole town, and I never'll speak to you again +as long as I live. If I hadn't stayed with you every minute, I should +think you'd been drinking, and I believe to my soul you have!" She +buried her face in her handkerchief, and stumbled over to a table where +Laura Pettis was standing, open-eyed with amazement, and the two +clasped each other, while Rosa cried on. Elvin only looked about him, +in a bewildered fashion, when the warm hand was wrenched away; then, +realizing that he was quite alone, his head bent under a deeper +dejection. He seemed unable to move from the spot, and stood there +quite stupidly, until murmurs of "What's the matter of him?" came from +the waiting crowd, and Parson True himself advanced, with hands again +outstretched. But Dilly Joyce forestalled the parson. She, too came +forward, in her quick way, and took Elvin firmly by the arm. + +"Here, dear," she said, caressingly, "you come along out-doors with +us!" + +Elvin turned, still hanging his head, and the three (for little Molly +had come up on the other side, trying to stand very tall to show her +championship) walked out of the hall together. Dilly had ever a quick +eye for green, growing things, and she remembered a little corner of +the enclosure, where one lone elm-tree stood above a bank. Thither she +led him, with an assured step; and when they had reached the shadow, +she drew him forward, and said, still tenderly,-- + +"There, dear, you set right down here an' think it over. We'll stay +with ye. We'll never forsake ye, will we, Molly?" + +Molly, who did not know what it was all about, had no need to know. +"Never!" she said, stanchly. + +The three sat down there; and first the slow minutes, and then the +hours, went by. It had not been long before some one found out where +they were, and curious groups began to wander past, always in silence, +but eying them intently. Elvin sat with his head bent, looking fixedly +at a root of plantain; but Molly confronted the alien faces with a +haughty challenging stare, while her cheeks painted themselves ever a +deeper red. Dilly leaned happily back against the elm trunk, and dwelt +upon the fleece-hung sky; and her black eyes grew still calmer and more +content. She looked as if she had learned what things are lovely and of +good repute. When the town-clock struck noon, she brought forth their +little luncheon, and pressed it upon the others, with a nice +hospitality. Elvin shook his head, but Molly ate a trifle, for pride's +sake. + +"You go an' git him a mite o' water," whispered Dilly, when they had +finished. "I would, but I dunno the ways o' this place. It'll taste +good to him." + +Molly nodded, and hurried away; presently she came back, bearing a tin +cup, and Elvin drank, though he did not thank her. + +In the early afternoon, Ebenezer Tolman came striding down between the +pens in ostentatious indignation. He was a tall, red-faced man, with a +large, loose mouth, and blond-gray whiskers, always parted and blowing +in the wind. He wore, with manifest pride, the reputation of being a +dangerous animal when roused. He had bought a toy whip, at little +Davie's earnest solicitation, and, lashing it suggestively against his +boot, he began speaking long before he reached the little group. The +lagging crowd of listeners paused, breathless, to lose no word. + +"Look here, you! don't ye darken my doors ag'in, an' don't ye dast to +open your head to one o' my folks! We're done with ye! Do you hear? +We're done with ye! Rosy'll ride home with me to-night, an' she'll ride +with you no more!" + +Elvin said nothing, though his brow contracted suddenly at Rosa's name. +Ebenezer was about to speak again; but the little parson came striding +swiftly up, his long coat flying behind him, and Tolman, who was a +church-member, in good and regular standing, moved on. But the parson +was routed, in his turn. Dilly rose, and, as some one afterwards said, +"clipped it right up to him." + +"Don't you come now, dear," she advised him, in that persuasive voice +of hers. "No, don't you come now. He ain't ready. You go away, an' let +him set an' think it out." And the parson, why he knew not, turned +about, and went humbly back to his preaching in the hall. + +The afternoon wore on, and it began to seem as if Elvin would never +break from his trance, and never speak. Finally, after watching him a +moment with her keen eyes, Dilly touched him lightly on the arm. + +"The Tolmans have drove home," she said, quietly. "All on 'em. What if +you should git your horse, an' take Molly an' me along?" + +Elvin came to his feet with a lurch. He straightened himself. + +"I've got to talk to the parson," said he. + +"So I thought," answered Dilly, with composure, "but 'tain't no place +here. You ask him to ride, an' let Miss Dorcas drive home alone. We +four'll stop at my house, an' then you can talk it over." + +Elvin obeyed, like a child tired of his own way. When they packed +themselves into the wagon,--where Dilly insisted on sitting behind, to +make room,--the Tiverton and Sudleigh people stood about in groups, to +watch them. Hiram Cole came forward, just as Elvin took up the reins. + +"Elvin," said he, in a cautious whisper, with his accustomed gesture of +scraping his cheek, "I've got suthin' to say to ye. Don't ye put no +money into Dan Forbes's hands. I've had a letter from brother 'Lisha, +out in Illinois, an' he says that business Dan wrote to you +about--well, there never was none! There ain't a stick o' furniture +made there! An' Dan's been cuttin' a dash lately with money he got +som'er's or other, an' he's gambled, an' I dunno what all, an' been +took up. An' now he's in jail. So don't you send him nothin'. I thought +I'd speak." + +Elvin looked at him a moment, with a strange little smile dawning about +his mouth. + +"That's all right," he said, quickly, and drove away. + +To Molly, the road home was like a dark passage full of formless fears. +She did not even know what had befallen the dear being she loved best; +but something dire and tragic had stricken him, and therefore her. The +parson was acutely moved for the anguish he had not probed. Only Dilly +remained cheerful. When they reached her gate, it was she who took the +halter from Elvin's hand, and tied the horse. Then she walked up the +path, and flung open her front door. + +"Come right into the settin'-room," she said. "I'll git ye some water +right out o' the well. My throat's all choked up o' dust." + +The cheerful clang of the bucket against the stones, the rumble of the +windlass, and then Dilly came in with a brimming bright tin dipper. She +offered it first to the parson, and though she refilled it scrupulously +for each pair of lips, it seemed a holy loving-cup. They sat there in +the darkening room, and Dilly "stepped round" and began to get supper. +Molly nervously joined her, and addressed her, once or twice, in a +whisper. But Dilly spoke out clearly in, answer, as if rebuking her. + +"Le's have a real good time," she said, when she had drawn the table +forward and set forth her bread, and apples, and tea. "Passon, draw up! +You drink tea, don't ye? I don't, myself. I never could bear to spile +good water. But I keep it on hand for them that likes it. Elvin, here! +You take this good big apple. It's man's size more 'n woman's, I +guess." + +Elvin pushed back his chair. + +"I ain't goin' to put a mouthful of victuals to my lips till I make up +my mind whether I can speak or not," he said, loudly. + +"All right," answered Dilly, placidly. "Bless ye! the teapot'll be +goin' all night, if ye say so." + +Only Dilly and the parson made a meal; and when it was over, Parson +True rose, as if his part of the strange drama must at last begin, and +fell on his knees. + +"Let us pray!" + +Molly, too, knelt, and Elvin threw his arms upon the table, and laid +his head upon them. But Dilly stood erect. From time to time, she +glanced curiously from the parson to the lovely darkened world outside +her little square of window, and smiled slightly, tenderly, as if out +there she saw the visible God. The parson prayed for "this sick soul, +our brother," over and over, in many phrases, and with true and +passionate desire. And when the prayer was done, he put his hand on the +young man's shoulder, and said, with a yearning persuasiveness,-- + +"Tell it now, my brother! Jesus is here." + +Elvin raised his head, with a sudden fierce gesture toward Dilly. + +"She knows," he said. "She can see the past. She'll tell you what I've +done." + +"I 'ain't got nothin' to tell, dear," answered Dilly, peacefully. +"Everything you've done's between you an' God A'mighty. I 'ain't got +nothin' to tell!" + +Then she went out, and, deftly unharnessing the horse, put him in her +little shed, and gave him a feed of oats. The hens had gone to bed +without their supper. + +"No matter, biddies," she said, conversationally, as she passed their +roost. "I'll make it up to you in the mornin'!" + +When she entered the house again, Elvin still sat there, staring +stolidly into the dusk. The parson was praying, and Molly, by the +window, was holding the sill tightly clasped by both hands, as if +threatening herself into calm. When the parson rose, he turned to +Elvin, less like the pastor than the familiar friend. One forgot his +gray hairs in the loving simplicity of his tone. + +"My son," he said, tenderly, "tell it all! God is merciful." + +But again Dilly put in her voice. + +"Don't you push him, Passon! Let him speak or not, jest as he's a mind +to. Let God A'mighty do it His way! Don't _you_ do it!" + +Darkness settled in the room, and the heavenly hunter's-moon rose and +dispelled it. + +"O God! can I?" broke forth the young man. "O God! if I tell, I'll go +through with it. I will, so help me!" + +The moving patterns of the vine at the window began to etch themselves +waveringly on the floor. Dilly bent, and traced the outline of a leaf +with her finger. + +"I'll tell!" cried Elvin, in a voice exultant over the prospect of +freedom. "I'll tell it all. I wanted money. The girl I meant to have +was goin' with somebody else, an' I'd got to scrape together some +money, quick. I burnt down my house an' barn. I got the insurance +money. I sent some of it out West, to put into that furniture business, +an' Dan Forbes has made way with it. I only kept enough to take Rosa +an' me out there. I'll give up that, an' go to jail; an' if the Lord +spares my life, when I come out I'll pay it back, principal an' +int'rest." + +Molly gave one little moan, and buried her face in her hands. The +parson and Dilly rose, by one impulse, and went forward to Elvin, who +sat upright, trembling from excitement past. Dilly reached him first. +She put both her hands on his forehead, and smoothed back his hair. + +"Dear heart," she said, in a voice thrilled through by music,--"dear +heart! I was abroad that night, watchin' the stars, an' I see it all. I +see ye do it. You done it real clever, an' I come nigh hollerin' out to +ye, I was so pleased, when I see you was determined to save the +livestock. An' that barn-cat, dear, that old black Tom that's ketched +my chickens so long!--you 'most broke your neck to save him. But I +never should ha' told, dear, never! 'specially sence you got out the +creatur's." + +"And 'in Christ shall all be made alive!'" said the parson, wiping his +eyes, and then beginning to pat Elvin's hand with both his own. "Now, +what shall we do? What shall we do? Why not come home with me, and stay +over night? My dear wife will be glad to see you. And the morning will +bring counsel." + +Elvin had regained a fine freedom of carriage, and a decision of tone +long lost to him. He was dignified by the exaltation of the moment. + +"I've got it all fixed," he said, like a man. "I thought it all out +under that elm-tree, today. You drive me over to Sheriff Holmes's, an' +he'll tell me what's right to do,--whether I'm to go to the insurance +people, or whether I'm to be clapped into jail. He'll know. It's out o' +my hands. I'll go an' harness now." + +Parson True drew Molly forward from her corner, and held her hand, +while he took Elvin's, and motioned Dilly to complete the circle. + +"Jesus Christ be with us!" he said, solemnly. "God, our Father, help us +to love one another more and more tenderly because of our sins!" + +While Elvin was harnessing, a dark figure came swiftly through the +moonlight. + +"Elvin," whispered Molly, sharply. "O Elvin, I can't bear it! You take +what money you've got, an' go as fur as you can. Then you work, an' +I'll work, an' we'll pay 'em back. What good will it do, for you to go +to jail? Oh, what good will it do!" + +"Poor little Molly!" said he. "You do care about me, don't you? I +sha'n't forget that, wherever I am." + +Molly came forward, and threw her arms about him passionately. + +"Go! go!" she whispered, fiercely. "Go now! I'll drive you some'er's +an' bring the horse back. Don't wait! I don't want a hat." + +Elvin smoothed her hair. + +"No," said he, gravely, "you'll see it different, come mornin'. The +things of this world ain't everything. Even freedom ain't everything. +There's somethin' better. Good-by, Molly. I don't know how long a +sentence they give; but when they let me out, I shall come an' tell you +what I think of you for standin' by. Parson True!" + +The parson came out, and Dilly followed. When the two men were seated +in the wagon, she bent forward, and laid her hand on Elvin's, as it +held the reins. + +"Don't you be afraid," she said, lovingly. "If they shet ye up, you +remember there ain't nothin' to be afraid of but wrong-doin', an' +that's only a kind of a sickness we al'ays git well of. An' God +A'mighty's watchin' over us all the time. An' if you've sp'iled your +chance in this life, don't you mind. There's time enough. Plenty o' +time, you says to yourself, plenty!" + +She drew back, and they drove on. Molly, in heart-sick sobbing, threw +herself forward into the little woman's arms, and Dilly held her with +an unwearied cherishing. + +"There, there, dear!" she said, tenderly. "Ain't it joyful to think +he's got his soul out o' prison, where he shet it up? He's all free +now. It's jest as if he was born into a new world, to begin all over." + +"But, Dilly, I love him so! An' I can't do anything! not a thing! O +Dilly, yes! yes! Oh, it's little enough, but I could! I could save my +shoe-shop money, an' help him pay his debt, when he's out o' jail." + +"Yes," said Dilly, joyously. "An' there's more'n that you can do. You +can keep him in your mind, all day long, an' all night long, an' your +sperit'll go right through the stone walls, if they put him there, an' +cheer him up. + +"He won't know how, but so it'll be, dear, so it'll be. Folks don't know +why they're uplifted sometimes, when there ain't no cause; but _I_ say +it's other folks's love. Now you come in, dear, an' we'll make the +bed--it's all aired complete--an' then we'll go to sleep, an' see if we +can't dream us a nice, pleasant dream,--all about green gardins, an' +the folks we love walking in the midst of 'em!" + + + + +BANKRUPT + + +Miss Dorcas True stood in her square front entry, saying good-by to +Phoebe Marsh. The entry would have been quite dark from its +time-stained woodwork and green paper, except for the twilight glimmer +swaying and creeping through the door leading into the garden. Out +there were the yellow of coreopsis, and the blue of larkspur, melted +into a dim magnificence of color, suffusing all the air; to one who +knew what common glory was a-blowing and a-growing there without, the +bare seclusion of the house might well seem invaded by it, like a +heavenly flood. Phoebe, too, in her pink calico, appeared to spread +abroad the richness of her youth and bloom, and radiate a certain light +about her where she stood. She was tall, her proportions were ample, +and her waist very trim. She had the shoulders and arms of the women of +an elder time, whom we classify vaguely now as goddesses. The Tiverton +voices argued that she would have been "real handsome if she'd had any +sense about doin' her hair;" which was brought down loosely over her +ears, in the fashion of her Aunt Phoebe's miniature. Miss Dorcas beside +her looked like one of autumn's brown, quiescent stems left standing by +the way. She was firmly built, yet all her lines subdued themselves to +that meagreness which ever dwells afar from beauty. The deep marks of +hard experience had been graven on her forehead, and her dark eyes +burned inwardly; the tense, concentrated spark of pain and the glowing +of happy fervor seemed as foreign to them as she herself to all the +lighter joys and hopes. Her only possibility of beauty lay in an +abundance of soft dark hair; but even that had been restricted and +coiled into a compact, utilitarian compass. She had laid one nervous +hand on Phoebe's arm, and she grasped the arm absently, from time to +time, in talking, with unconscious joy in its rounded warmth. She spoke +cautiously, so that her voice might not be heard within. + +"Then you come over to-morrow, after the close of service, if it's +convenient. You can slip right into the kitchen, just as usual. Any +news?" + +Phoebe, too, lowered her voice, but the full sweetness of its quality +thrilled out. + +"Mary Frances Giles is going to be married next week. I've been down to +see her things. She's real pleased." + +"You don't suppose they'll ask father to marry 'em?" Miss Dorcas spoke +quite eagerly. + +"Oh, no, they can't! It's a real wedding, you know. It's got to be at +the house." + +"Yes, of course it's got to! I knew that myself, but I couldn't help +hoping. Well, goodnight. You come Sunday." + +Phoebe lifted her pink skirts about her, and stepped, rustling and +stately, down the garden walk. Miss Dorcas drew one deep breath of the +outer fragrance, and turned back into the house. A thin voice, +enfeebled and husky from old age, rose in the front room, as she +entered: + +"Dorcas! Dorcas! you had a caller?" + +Her father, old Parson True, lay in the great bed opposite the window. +A thin little twig of a man, he was still animated, at times, by the +power of a strenuous and dauntless spirit. His hair, brushed straight +back from the overtopping forehead, had grown snowy white, and the +eager, delicate face beneath wore a strange pathos from the very +fineness of its nervously netted lines. Not many years after his wife's +death, the parson had shown some wandering of the wits; yet his +disability, like his loss, had been mercifully veiled from him. He took +calmly to his bed, perhaps through sheer lack of interest in life, and +it became his happy invention that he was "not feeling well," from one +day to another, but that, on the next Sunday, he should rise and +preach. He seemed like an unfortunate and uncomplaining child, and the +village folk took pride in him as something all their own; a pride +enhanced by his habit, in this weak estate, of falling back into the +homely ways of speech he had used long ago when he was a boy "on the +farm." In his wife's day, he had stood in the pulpit above them, and +expounded scriptural lore in academic English; now he lapsed into their +own rude phrasing, and seemed to rest content in a tranquil certainty +that nothing could be better than Tiverton ways and Tiverton's homely +speech. + +"Dorcas," he repeated, with all a child's delight in his own +cleverness, "you've had somebody here. I heard ye!" + +Dorcas folded the sheet back over the quilt, and laid her hand on his +hair, with all the tenderness of the strong when they let themselves +brood over the weak. + +"Only Phoebe, on her way home," she answered, gently. "The doctor +visited her school to-day. She thinks he may drop in to see you +to-night. I guess he give her to understand so." + +The minister chuckled. + +"Ain't he a smart one?" he rejoined. "Smart as a trap! Dorcas, I 'ain't +finished my sermon. I guess I shall have to preach an old one. You lay +me out the one on the salt losin' its savor, an' I'll look it over." + +"Yes, father." + +The same demand and the same answer, varied but slightly, had been +exchanged between them every Saturday night for years. Dorcas replied +now without thinking. Her mind had spread its wings and flown out into +the sweet stillness of the garden and the world beyond; it even +hastened on into the unknown ways of guesswork, seeking for one who +should be coming. She strained her ears to hear the beating of hoofs +and the rattle of wheels across the little, bridge. The dusk sifted in +about the house, faster and faster; a whippoorwill cried from the +woods. So she sat until the twilight had vanished, and another of the +invisible genii was at hand, saying, "I am Night." + +"Dorcas!" called the parson again. He had been asleep, and seemed now +to be holding himself back from a broken dream. "Dorcas, has your +mother come in yet?" + +"No, father." + +"Well, you wake me up when you see her down the road; and then you go +an' carry her a shawl. I dunno what to make o' that cough!" His voice +trailed sleepily off, and Dorcas rose and tiptoed out of the room. She +felt the blood in her face; her ears thrilled noisily. The doctor's, +wagon, had crossed the bridge; now it was whirling swiftly up the road. +She stationed herself in the entry, to lose no step in his familiar +progress. The horse came lightly along, beating out a pleasant tune of +easy haste. He was drawn up at the gate, and the doctor threw out his +weight, and jumped buoyantly to the ground. There was the brief pause +of reaching for his medicine-case, and then, with that firm step whose +rhythm she knew so well, he was walking up the path. Involuntarily, as +Dorcas awaited him, she put her hand to her heart with one of those +gestures that seem so melodramatic and are so real; she owned to +herself, with a throb of appreciative delight, how the sick must warm +at his coming. This new doctor of Tiverton was no younger than Dorcas +herself, yet with his erect carriage and merry blue eye she seemed to +be not only of another temperament, but another time. It had never +struck him that they were contemporaries. Once he had told Phoebe, in a +burst of affection and pitying praise, that he should have liked Miss +Dorcas for a maiden aunt. + +"Good evening," he said, heartily, one foot on the sill. "How's the +patient?" + +At actual sight of him, her tremor vanished, and she answered very +quietly,-- + +"Father's asleep. I thought you wouldn't want he should be disturbed; +so I came out." + +The doctor took off his hat, and pushed back his thick, unruly hair. + +"Yes, that was right," he said absently, and pinched a spray of +southernwood that grew beside the door. "How has he seemed?" + +"About as usual." + +"You've kept on with the tonic?" + +"Yes." + +"That's good! Miss Dorcas, look up there. See that moon! See that wisp +of an old blanket dragging over her face! Do you mind coming out and +walking up and down the road while we talk? I may think of one or two +directions to give about your father." + +Dorcas stepped forward with the light obedience given to happy tasking. +She paused as quickly. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I can't. Father might wake up. I never leave him +alone." + +"Never mind, then! let's sit right down here on the steps. After all, +perhaps it's pleasanter. What a garden! It's like my mother's. I could +pick out every leaf in the dark, by the smell. But you're alone, aren't +you? I'm not keeping you from any one?" + +"Oh, no! I'm all alone, except father." + +"Yes. The fact is, I went into your school to-day, and the teacher said +she was coming here to-night. She offered to bring you a message, but I +said I should come myself. I'm abominably late. I couldn't get here any +earlier." + +"Oh, yes! Phoebe! She was here over an hour ago. Phoebe's a real +comfort to me." She was seated on the step above him, and it seemed +very pleasant to her to hear his voice, without encountering also the +challenge of his eyes. + +"No, is she though?" The doctor suddenly faced round upon her. "Tell me +about it!" + +Then, quite to her surprise, Dorcas found herself talking under the +spell of an interest so eager that it bore her on, entirely without her +own guidance. + +"Well, you see there's a good many things I keep from father. He +never's been himself since mother died. She was the mainstay here. But +he thinks the church prospers just the same, and I never've told him +the attendance dropped off when they put up that 'Piscopal building +over to Sudleigh. You 'ain't lived here long enough to hear much about +that, but it's been a real trial to him. The summer boarders built it, +and some rich body keeps it up; and our folks think it's complete to go +over there and worship, and get up and down, and say their prayers out +loud." + +The doctor laughed out. + +"I've heard about it," said he. "You know what Brad Freeman told Uncle +Eli Pike, when they went in to see how the service was managed? +Somebody found the places in the prayer-book for them, and Brad was +quick-witted, and got on very well; but Eli kept dropping behind. Brad +nudged him. 'Read!' he said out loud. 'Read like the devil!' I've heard +that story on an average of twice a day since I came to Tiverton. I'm +not tired of it yet!" + +Miss Dorcas, too, had heard it, and shrunk from its undisguised +profanity. Now she laughed responsively. + +"I guess they do have queer ways," she owned. "Well, I never let father +know any of our folks go over there. He'd be terrible tried. And I've +made it my part in our meeting to keep up the young folks' interest as +much as I can. I've been careful never to miss my Sunday-school class. +They're all girls, nice as new pins, every one of 'em! Phoebe was in it +till a little while ago, but now she comes here and sits in the kitchen +while I'm gone. I don't want father to know that, for I hope it +never'll come into his head he's so helpless; but I should be worried +to death to have him left alone. So Phoebe sits there with her book, +ready to spring if she should hear anything out o' the way." + +The doctor had lapsed into his absent mood, but now he roused himself, +with sudden interest. + +"That's very good of her, isn't it?" he said "You trust her, don't +you?" + +"Trust Phoebe! Well, I guess I do! I've known her ever since she went +to Number Five, and now she's keeping the school herself. She's a real +noble girl!" + +"Tell me more!" said the doctor, warmly. "I want to hear it all. +You're so new to me here in Tiverton! I want to get acquainted." + +Miss Dorcas suddenly felt as if she had been talking a great deal, and +an overwhelming shyness fell upon her. + +"There isn't much to tell," she hesitated. "I don't know's anything'd +happened to me for years, till father had his ill-turn in the spring, +and we called you in. He don't seem to realize his sickness was +anything much. I've told the neighbors not to dwell on it when they're +with him. Phoebe won't; she's got some sense." + +"Has she?" said the doctor, still eagerly. "I'm glad of that, for your +sake!" He rose to go, but stood a moment near the steps, dallying with +a reaching branch of jessamine; it seemed persuading him to stay. He +had always a cheery manner, but to-night it was brightened by a dash of +something warm and reckless. He had the air of one awaiting good news, +in confidence of its coming. Dorcas was alive to the rapt contagion, +and her own blood thrilled. She felt young. + +"Well!" said he, "well, Miss Dorcas!" He took a step, and then turned +back. "Well, Miss Dorcas," he said again, with an embarrassed laugh, +"perhaps you'd like to gather in one more church-goer. If I have time +tomorrow, I'll drop in to your service, and then I'll come round here, +and tell your father I went." + +Dorcas rose impulsively. She could have stretched out her hands to him, +in the warmth of her gratitude. + +"Oh, if you would! Oh, how pleased he'd be!" + +"All right!" Now he turned away with decision. "Thank you, Miss Dorcas, +for staying out. It's a beautiful evening. I never knew such a June. +Good-night!" He strode down the walk, and gave a quick word to his +horse, who responded in whinnying welcome. An instant's delay, another +word, and they were gone. + +Dorcas stood listening to the scatter of hoofs down the dusty road and +over the hollow ledge. She sank back on the sill, and, step by step, +tried to retrace the lovely arabesque the hour had made. At last, she +had some groping sense of the full beauty of living, when friendship +says to its mate, "Tell me about yourself!" and the frozen fountain +wells out, every drop cheered and warmed, as it falls, in the sunshine +of sympathy. She saw in him that perfection of life lying in strength, +which he undoubtedly had, and beauty, of which he had little or much +according as one chose to think well of him. To her aching sense, he +was a very perfect creature, gifted with, infinite capacities for help +and comfort. + +But the footfalls ceased, and the garden darkened by delicate yet swift +degrees; a cloud had gone over the moon, fleecy, silver-edged, but +still a cloud. The waning of the light seemed to her significant; she +feared lest some bitter change might befall the moment; and went in, +bolting the door behind her. Once within her own little bedroom, she +loosened her hair, and moved about aimlessly, for a time, careless of +sleep, because it seemed so far. Then a sudden resolve nerved her, and +she stole back again to the front door, and opened it. The night was +blossoming there, glowing now, abundant. It was so rich, so full! The +moonlight here, and star upon star above, hidden not by clouds but by +the light! Need she waste this one night out of all her unregarded +life? She stepped forth among the flower-beds, stooping, in a +passionate fervor, to the blossoms she could reach; but, coming back to +the southernwood, she took it in her arms. She laid her face upon it, +and crushed the soft leaves against her cheeks. It made all the world +smell of its own balm and dew. The fragrance and beauty of the time +passed into her soul, and awakened corners there all unused to such +sweet incense. She was drunken with the wine that is not of grapes. She +could not have found words for the passion that possessed her, though +she hugged it to her heart like another self; but it was elemental, +springing from founts deeper than those of life and death. God made it, +and, like all His making, it was divine. She sat there, the +southernwood still gathered into her arms, and at last emotion stilled +itself, and passed into thought; a wild temptation rose, and with its +first whisper drove a hot flush into her cheeks, and branded it there. +Love! she had never named the name in its first natal significance. She +had scarcely read it; for romance, even in books, had passed her by. +But love! she knew it as the insect knows how to spread his new +sun-dried wings in the air for which he was create. Sitting there, in a +happy drowse, she thought it all out. She was old, plain, unsought; the +man she exalted was the flower of his kind. He would never look on her +as if she might touch the hem of wifehood's mantle; so there would be +no shame in choosing him. Just to herself, she might name the Great +Name. He would not know. Only her own soul would know, and God who gave +it, and sent it forth fitted with delicate, reaching tentacles to touch +the rock set there to wound them. She began to feel blindly that God +was not alone the keeper of eternal Sabbaths, but the germinant heat at +the heart of the world. If she were a young girl, like Phoebe, there +would be shame. Even a thought of him would be a stretching forth her +hand to touch him, saying, "Look at me! I am here!" but for her it was +quite different. It would be like a dream, some grandmother dreamed in +the sun, of rosy youth and the things that never came to pass. No one +would be harmed, and the sleeper would have garnered one hour's joy +before she took up her march again on the lonesomest road of all,--so +lonesome, although it leads us, home! Thus she thought, half sleeping, +until the night-dews clung in drops upon her hair; then she went in to +bed, still wrapped about with the drapery of her dreams. + +Next morning, when Dorcas carried in her father's breakfast, she walked +with a springing step, and spoke in a voice so full and fresh it made +her newly glad. + +"It's a nice day, father! There'll be lots of folks out to meeting." + +"That's a good girl!" This was his commendation, from hour to hour; it +made up the litany of his gratitude for what she had been to him. "But +I dunno's I feel quite up to preachin' to-day, Dorcas!" + +"That'll be all right, father. We'll get somebody." + +"You bring me out my sermon-box after breakfast, an' I'll pick out +one," said he, happily. "Deacon Tolman can read it." + +But, alas! Deacon Tolman had been dead this many a year! + +A little later, the parson sat up in bed, shuffling his manuscript +about with nervous hands, and Dorcas, in the kitchen, stood washing her +breakfast dishes. That eager interest in living still possessed her. +She began humming, in a timid monotone. Her voice had the clearness of +truth, with little sweetness; and she was too conscious of its +inadequacy to use it in public, save under the compelling force of +conscience. Hitherto, she had only sung in Sunday-school, moved, as in +everything, by the pathetic desire of "doing her part;" but this +morning seemed to her one for lifting the voice, though not in Sunday +phrasing. After a little thought, she began thinly and sweetly,-- + + "Early one morning, just as the sun was rising, + I heard a maid sing in the valley below: + 'O don't deceive me! O never leave me + How could you use a poor maiden so?'" + +A gruff voice from the doorway broke harshly in upon a measure. + +"Yes! yes! Well! well! Tunin' up a larrady, ain't ye?" + +Dorcas knew who it was, without turning round,--a dark, squat woman, +broad all over; broad in the hips, the waist, the face, and stamped +with the race-mark of high cheekbones. Her thick, straight black hair +was cut "tin-basin style;" she wore men's boots, and her petticoats +were nearly up to her knees. + +"Good morning, Nancy!" called Dorcas, blithely, wringing out her +dishcloth. "Come right in, and sit down." + +Nance Pete (in other words, Nancy the wife of Pete, whose surname was +unknown) clumped into the room, and took a chair by the hearth. She +drew forth a short black pipe, looked into it discontentedly, and then +sat putting her thumb in and out of the bowl. + +"You 'ain't got a mite o' terbacker about ye? Hey what?" she asked. + +Dorcas had many a time been shocked at the same demand. This morning, +something humorous about it struck her, and she laughed. + +"You know I haven't, Nancy Pete! Did you mend that hole in your skirt, +as I told you?" + +Nance laboriously drew a back breadth of her coarse plaid skirt round +to the front, and displayed it, without a word. A three-cornered tear +of the kind known as a barn-door had been treated by tying a white +string well outside it, and gathering up the cloth, like a bag. +Dorcas's sense of fitness forbade her to see anything humorous in so +original a device. She stood before the woman in all the moral +excellence of a censor fastidiously clad. + +"O Nancy Pete!" she exclaimed. "How could you?" + +Nance put her cold pipe in her mouth, and began sucking at the +unresponsive stem. + +"You 'ain't got a bite of anything t' eat, have ye?" she asked, +indifferently. + +Dorcas went to the pantry, and brought forth pie, doughnuts and cheese, +and a dish of cold beans. The coffee-pot was waiting on the stove. One +would have said the visitor had been expected. Nance rose and tramped +over to the table. But Dorcas stood firmly in the way. + +"No, Nancy, no! You wait a minute! Are you going to meeting to-day?" + +"I 'ain't had a meal o' victuals for a week!" remarked Nance, +addressing no one in particular. + +"Nancy, are you going to meeting?" + +"Whose seat be I goin' to set in?" inquired Nance, rebelliously, yet +with a certain air of capitulation. + +"You can sit in mine. Haven't you sat there for the last five years? +Now, Nancy, don't hinder me!" + +"Plague take it, then! I'll go!" + +At this expected climax, Dorcas stood aside, and allowed her visitor to +serve herself with beans. When Nance's first hunger had been satisfied, +she began a rambling monologue, of an accustomed sort to which Dorcas +never listened. + +"I went down to peek into the Poorhouse winders, this mornin'. There +they all sut, like rats in a trap. 'Got ye, 'ain't they?' says I. Old +Sal Flint she looked up, an' if there'd been a butcher-knife handy, I +guess she'd ha' throwed it. 'It's that Injun!' says she to Mis' Giles. +'Don't you take no notice!' 'I dunno's I'm an Injun,' says I, 'I dunno +how much Injun I be. I can't look so fur back as that. I dunno's +there's any more Injun in me than there is devil in you!' I says. An' +then the overseer he come out, an' driv' me off. 'You won't git me in +there,' says I to him, 'not so long's I've got my teeth to chaw +sassafras, an' my claws to dig me a holler in the ground!' But when I +come along, he passed me on the road, an' old Sal Flint sut up by him +on the seat, like a bump on a log. I guess he was carryin' her over to +that Pope-o'-Rome meetin' they've got over to Sudleigh." + +Dorcas turned about, in anxious interest. + +"Oh, I wonder if he was! How _can_ folks give up their own meeting for +that?" + +Nance pushed her chair back from the table. + +"Want to see all kinds, I s'pose," she said, slyly. "Guess I'll try it +myself, another Sunday!" + +"Anybody to home?" came a very high and wheezy voice from the doorway. +Dorcas knew that also, and so did Nance Pete. + +"It's that old haddock't lives up on the mountain," said the latter, +composedly, searching in her pocket, and then pulling out a stray bit +of tobacco and pressing it tenderly into her pipe. + +An old man, dressed in a suit of very antique butternut clothes, stood +at the sill, holding forward a bunch of pennyroyal. He was weazened and +dry; his cheeks were parchment color, and he bore the look of an active +yet extreme old age. He was totally deaf. Dorcas advanced toward him, +taking a bright five-cent piece from her pocket. She held it out to +him, and he, in turn, extended the pennyroyal; but before taking it, +she went through a solemn pantomime. She made a feint of accepting the +herb, and then pointed to him and to the road. + +"Yes, yes!" said the old man, irritably. "Bless ye! of course I'm goin' +to meetin'. I'll set by myself, though! Yes, I will! Las' Sunday, I set +with Jont Marshall, an' every time I sung a note, he dug into me with +his elbow, till I thought I should ha' fell out the pew-door. My voice +is jest as good as ever 'twas, an' sixty-five year ago come spring, I +begun to set in the seats." + +The coin and pennyroyal changed ownership, and he tottered away, +chattering to himself in his senile fashion. + +"Look here, you!" he shouted back, his hand on the gate. "Heerd +anything o' that new doctor round here? Well, he's been a-pokin' into +my ears, an' I guess he'd ha' cured me, if anybody could. You know I +don't hear so well's I used to. He went a-peekin' an' a-pryin' round my +ears, as if he'd found a hornet's nest. I dunno what he see there; I +know he shook his head. I guess we shouldn't ha' got no such a man to +settle down here if he wa'n't so asthmy he couldn't git along where he +was. That's the reason he come, they say. He's a bright one!" + +Dorcas left her sweeping, and ran out after him. For the moment, she +forgot his hopeless durance in fleshly walls. + +"Did he look at 'em?" she cried. "Did he? Tell me what he said!" + +"Why, of course I don't hear no better yit!" answered old Simeon, +testily, turning to stump away, "but that ain't no sign I sha'n't! He's +a beauty! I set up now, when he goes by, so's I can hear him when he +rides back. I put a quilt down in the fore-yard, an' when the ground +trimbles a mite, I git up to see if it's his hoss. Once I laid there +till 'leven. He's a beauty, he is!" + +He went quavering down the road, and Dorcas ran back to the house, +elated afresh. An unregarded old man could give him the poor treasure +of his affection, quite unasked. Why should not she? + +Nance was just taking her unceremonious leave. Her pockets bulged with +doughnuts, and she had wrapped half a pie in the Sudleigh "Star," +surreptitiously filched from the woodbox. + +"Well, I guess I'll be gittin' along towards meetin'," she said, in a +tone of unconcern, calculated to allay suspicion. "I'm in hopes to git +a mite o' terbacker out o' Hiram Cole, if he's settin' lookin' at his +pigs, where he is 'most every Sunday. I'll have a smoke afore I go in." + +"Don't you be late!" + +"I'm a-goin' in late, or not at all!" answered Nance, contradictorily. +"My bunnit ain't trimmed on the congregation side, an' I want to give +'em a chance to see it all round. I'm a-goin' up the aisle complete!" + +Dorcas finished her work, and, having tidied her father's room, sat +down by his bedside for the simple rites that made their Sabbath holy. +With the first clanging stroke of the old bell, not half a mile away, +they fell into silence, waiting reverently through the necessary pause +for allowing the congregation to become seated. Then they went through +the service together, from hymn and prayer to the sermon. The parson +had his manuscript ready, and he began reading it, in the pulpit-voice +of his prime. At that moment, some of his old vigor came back to him, +and he uttered the conventional phrases of his church with conscious +power; though so little a man, he had always a sonorous delivery. After +a page or two, his hands began to tremble, and his voice sank. + +"You read a spell, Dorcas," he whispered, in pathetic apology. "I'll +rest me a minute." So Dorcas read, and he listened. Presently he fell +asleep, and she still went on, speaking the words mechanically, and +busy with her own tumultuous thoughts. Amazement possessed her that the +world could be so full of joy to which she had long been deaf. She +could hear the oriole singing in the elm; his song was almost +articulate. The trees waved a little, in a friendly fashion, through +the open windows; friendly in the unspoken kinship of green things to +our thought, yet remote in their own seclusion. One tall, delicate +locust, gowned in summer's finest gear, stirred idly at the top, as if +through an inward motion, untroubled by the wind. Dorcas's mind sought +out the doctor, listening to the sermon in her bare little church, and +she felt quite content. She had entered the first court of love, where +a spiritual possession is enough, and asks no alms of bodily nearness. +When she came to the end of the sermon, her hands fell in her lap, and +she gave herself up without reserve to the idle delight of satisfied +dreaming. The silence pressed upon her father, and he opened his eyes +wide with the startled look of one who comprehends at once the +requirements of time and place. Then, in all solemnity, he put forth +his hands; and Dorcas, bending her head, received the benediction for +the congregation he would never meet again. She roused herself to bring +in his beef-tea, and at the moment of carrying away the tray, a step +sounded on the walk. She knew who it was, and smiled happily. The +lighter foot keeping pace beside it, she did not hear. + +"Dorcas," said her father, "git your bunnit. It's time for +Sunday-school." + +"Yes, father." + +The expected knock came at the door. She went forward, tying on her +bonnet, and her cheeks were pink. The doctor stood on the doorstone, +and Phoebe was with him. He smiled at Dorcas, and put out his hand. +This, according to Tiverton customs, was a warm demonstration at so +meaningless a moment; it seemed a part of his happy friendliness. It +was Phoebe who spoke. + +"I'll stay outside while the doctor goes in. I can sit down here on the +step. Your father needn't know I am here any more than usual. I told +the doctor not to talk, coming up the walk." + +The doctor smiled at her. Phoebe looked like a rose in her Sunday +white, and the elder woman felt a sudden joy in her, untouched by envy +of her youth and bloom. Phoebe only seemed a part of the beautiful new +laws to which the world was freshly tuned, Dorcas coveted nothing; she +envied nobody. She herself possessed all, in usurping her one rich +kingdom. + +"All right," she said. "The doctor can step in now, and see father. +I'll hurry back, as soon as Sunday-school is over." She walked away, +glancing happily at the flowers on either side of the garden-path. She +wanted to touch all their leaves, because, last night, he had praised +them. + +Returning, when her hour was over, she walked very fast; her heart was +waking into hunger, and she feared he might be gone. But he was there, +sitting on the steps beside Phoebe, and when the gate swung open, they +did not hear. Phoebe's eyes were dropped, and she was poking her +parasol into the moss-encrusted path; the doctor was looking into her +face, and speaking quite eagerly. He heard Dorcas first, and sprang up. +His eyes were so bright and forceful in the momentary gleam of meeting +hers, that she looked aside, and tried to rule her quickening breath. + +"Miss Dorcas," said he, "I'm telling this young lady she mustn't forget +to eat her dinner at school. I find she quite ignores it, if she has +sums to do, or blots to erase. Why, it's shocking." + +"Of course she must eat her dinner!" said Dorcas, tenderly. "Why, yes, +of course! Phoebe, do as he tells you. He knows." + +Phoebe blushed vividly. + +"Does he?" she answered, laughing. "Well, I'll see. Good-by, Miss +Dorcas. I'll come in for Friday night meeting, if I don't before. +Good-by." + +"I'll walk along with you," said the doctor. "If you'll let me," he +added, humbly. + +Phoebe turned away with a little toss of her head, and he turned, too, +breaking a sprig of southernwood. Dorcas was glad to treasure the last +sight of him putting to his lips the fragrant herb she had bruised for +his sake. It seemed to carry over into daylight the joy of the richer +night; it was like seeing the silken thread on which her pearls were +strung. She called to them impetuously,-- + +"Pick all the flowers you want to, both of you!" Then she went in, but +she said aloud to herself, "They're all for you--" and she whispered +his name. + +"Dorcas," said her father, "the doctor's been here quite a spell. He +says there was a real full meetin.' Even Nancy Pete, Dorcas! I feel as +if my ministration had been abundantly blessed." + +Then, in that strangest summer in Dorcas's life, time seemed to stand +still. The happiest of all experiences had befallen her; not a +succession of joys, but a permanent delight in one unchanging mood. The +evening of his coming had been the first day; and the evening and the +morning had ever since been the same in glory. He came often, sometimes +with Phoebe, sometimes alone; and, being one of the men on whom women +especially lean, Dorcas soon found herself telling him all the poor +trials of her colorless life. Nothing was too small for his notice. He +liked her homely talk of the garden and the church, and once gave up an +hour to spading a plot where she wanted a new round bed. Dorcas +had meant to put lilies there, but she remembered he loved +ladies'-delights; so she gathered them all together from the nooks and +corners of the garden, and set them there, a sweet, old-fashioned +company. "That's for thoughts!" She took to wearing flowers now, not +for the delight of him who loved them, but merely as a part of her +secret litany of worship. She slept deeply at night, and woke with calm +content, to speak one name in the way that forms a prayer. He was her +one possession; all else might be taken away from her, but the feeling +inhabiting her heart must live, like the heart itself. + +By the time September had yellowed all the fields, there came a week +when Phoebe's aunt, down at the Hollow, was known to be very ill; so +Phoebe no longer came to care for the parson through the Sunday-school +hour. But the doctor appeared, instead. + +"I'm Phoebe," he said, laughing, when Dorcas met him at the door. "She +can't come; so I told her I'd take her place." + +These were the little familiar deeds which gilded his name among the +people. Dorcas had been growing used to them. But on the' next Sunday +morning, when she was hurrying about her kitchen, making early +preparations for the cold mid-day meal, a daring thought assailed her. +Phoebe might come to-day, and if the doctor also dropped in, she would +ask them both to dinner. There was no reason for inviting him alone; +besides, it was happier to sit by, leaving him to some one else. Then +the two would talk, and she, with no responsibility, could listen and +look, and hug her secret joy. + +"I ain't a-goin' to meetin' to-day!" came Nance Pete's voice from the +door. She stood there, smoking prosperously, and took out her pipe, +with a jaunty motion, at the words. "I stopped at Kelup Rivers', on the +way over, an' they gi'n me a good breakfast, an' last week, that young +doctor gi'n me a whole paper o' fine-cut. I ain't a-goin' to meetin'! +I'm goin' to se' down under the old elm, an' have a real good smoke." + +"O Nancy!" Dorcas had no dreams so happy that such an avalanche could +not sweep them aside. "Now, do! Why, you don't want me to think you go +to church just because I save you some breakfast!" + +Nance turned away, and put up her chin to watch a wreath of smoke. + +"I dunno why I don't," said she. "The world's nothin' but buy an' sell. +You know it, an' I know it!' 'Tain't no use coverin' on't up. You heerd +the news? That old fool of a Sim Barker's dead. The doctor, sut up all +night with him, an' I guess now he's layin' on him out. I wouldn't ha' +done it! I'd ha' wropped him up in his old coat, an' glad to git rid on +him! Well, he won't cheat ye out o' no more five-cent pieces, to +squander in terbacker. You might save 'em up for me, now he's done +for!" Nance went stalking away to the gate, flaunting a visible air of +fine, free enjoyment, the product of tobacco and a bright morning. +Dorcas watched her, annoyed, and yet quite helpless; she was outwitted, +and she knew it. Perhaps she sorrowed less deeply over the loss to her +pensioner's immortal soul, thus taking holiday from spiritual +discipline, than the serious problem involved in subtracting one from +the congregation. Would a Sunday-school picnic constitute a bribe worth +mentioning? Perhaps not, so far as Nance was concerned; but her own +class might like it, and on that young blood she depended, to vivify +the church. + +A bit of pink came flashing along the country road. It was Phoebe, +walking very fast. + +"Dear heart!" said Dorcas, aloud to herself, as the girl came hurriedly +up the path. She was no longer a pretty girl, a nice girl, as the +commendation went. Her face had gained an exalted lift; she was +beautiful. She took Miss Dorcas by the arms, and laughed the laugh that +knows itself in the right, and so will not be shy. + +"Miss Dorcas," she said, "I've got to tell you right out, or I can't do +it at all. What should you say if I told you I was married?--to the +doctor?" + +Dorcas looked at her as if she did not hear. + +"It's begun to get round," went on Phoebe, "and I wanted to give you +the word myself. You see, auntie was sick, and when he was there so +much, she grew to depend on him, and one day, when we'd been engaged a +week, she said, why shouldn't we be married, and he come right to the +house to live? He's only boarding, you know. And nothing to do but it +must be done right off, and so I--I said 'yes! And we were married, +Thursday. Auntie's better, and O Miss Dorcas! I think we're going to +have a real good time together." She threw her arms about Dorcas, and +put down her shining brown head upon them. + +Dorcas tried to answer. When she did speak, her voice sounded thin and +faint, and she wondered confusedly if Phoebe could hear. + +"I didn't know--" she said. "I didn't know--" + +"Why, no, of course not!" returned Phoebe, brightly. "Nobody did. You'd +have been the first, but I didn't want the engagement talked about till +auntie was better. Oh, I believe that's his horse's step! I'll run out, +and ride home with him. You come, too, Miss Dorcas, and just say a +word!" + +Dorcas loosened the girl's arms about her, and, bending to the bright +head, kissed it twice. Phoebe, grown careless in her joy, ran down the +walk to stop the approaching wagon; and when she looked round, Dorcas +had shut the door and gone in. She waited a moment for her to reappear, +and then, remembering the doctor had had no breakfast, she stepped into +the wagon, and they drove happily away. + +Dorcas went to her bedroom, touching the walls, on the way, with her +groping hands. She sat down on the floor there, and rested her head +against a chair. Once only did she rouse herself, and that was to go +into the kitchen and set away the great bowl of _blanc-mange_ she had +been making for dinner. She had not strained it all, and the sea-weed +was drying on the sieve. Then she went back into the bedroom, and +pulled down the green slat curtains with a shaking hand. Twice her +father called her to bring his sermons, but she only answered, "Yes, +father!" in dull acquiescence, and did not move. She was benumbed, +sunken in a gulf of shame, too faint and cold to save herself by +struggling. Her poor innocent little fictions made themselves into +lurid writings on her brain. She had called him hers while another +woman held his vows, and she was degraded. Her soul was wrecked as +truly as if the whole world knew it, and could cry to her "Shame!" and +"Shame!" The church-bells clanged out their judgment of her. A new +thought awakened her to a new despair. She was not fit to teach in +Sunday-school any more. Her girls, her innocent, sweet girls! There was +contagion in her very breath. They must be saved from it; else when +they were old women like her, some sudden vice of tainted blood might +rise up in them, no one would know why, and breed disease and shame. +She started to her feet. Her knees trembling under her, she ran out of +the house, and hid herself behind the great lilac-bush by the gate. + +Deacon Caleb Rivers came jogging past, late for church, but driving +none the less moderately. His placid-faced wife sat beside him; and +Dorcas, stepping out to stop them, wondered, with a wild pang of +perplexity over the things of this world, if 'Mandy Rivers had ever +known the feeling of death in the soul. Caleb pulled up. + +"I can't come to Sunday-school, to-day," called Dorcas, stridently. +"You tell them to give Phoebe my class. And ask her if she'll keep it. +I sha'n't teach any more." + +"Ain't your father so well?" asked Mrs. Rivers, sympathetically, +bending forward and smoothing her mitts. Dorcas caught at the reason. + +"I sha'n't leave him any more," she said. "You tell 'em so. You fix +it." + +Caleb drove on, and she went back into the house, shrinking under the +brightness of the air which seemed to quiver so before her eyes. She +went into her father's room, where he was awake and wondering. + +"Seems to me I heard the bells," he said, in his gentle fashion. "Or +have we had the 'hymns, an' got to the sermon?" + +Dorcas fell on her knees by the bedside. + +"Father," she began, with difficulty, her cheek laid on the bedclothes +beside his hand, "there was a sermon about women that are lost. What +was that?" + +"Why, yes," answered the parson, rousing to an active joy in his work. +"'Neither do I condemn thee!' That was it. You git it, Dorcas! We must +remember such poor creatur's; though, Lord be praised! there ain't many +round here. We must remember an' pray for 'em." + +But Dorcas did not rise. + +"Is there any hope for them, father?" she asked, her voice muffled. +"Can they be saved?" + +"Why, don't you remember the poor creatur' that come here an' asked +that very question because she heard I said the Lord was pitiful? Her +baby was born out in the medder, an' died the next day; an' she got up +out of her sickbed at the Poorhouse, an' come totterin' up here, to ask +if there was any use in her sayin', 'Lord, be merciful to me, a +sinner!' An' your mother took her in, an' laid her down on this very +bed, an' she died here. An' your mother hil' her in her arms when she +died. You ask her if she didn't!" The effort of continuous talking +wearied him, and presently he dozed off. Once he woke, and Dorcas was +still on her knees, her head abased. "Dorcas!" he said, and she +answered, "Yes, father!" without raising it; and he slept again. The +bell struck, for the end of service. The parson was awake. He stretched +out his hand, and it trembled a moment and then fell on his daughter's +lowly head. + +"The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ--" the parson said, and went +clearly on to the solemn close. + +"Father," said Dorcas. "Father!" She seemed to be crying to One afar. +"Say the other verse, too. What He told the woman." + +His hand still on her head, the parson repeated, with a wistful +tenderness stretching back over the past,-- + +"'Neither do I condemn thee; go, and sin no more.'" + + + + +NANCY BOYD'S LAST SERMON + + +It was the lonesome time of the year: not November, that accomplishment +of a gracious death, but the moment before the conscious spring, when +watercourses have not yet stirred in awakening, and buds are only +dreamed of by trees still asleep but for the sweet trouble within their +wood; when the air finds as yet no response to the thrill beginning to +creep where roots lie blind in the dark; when life is at the one dull, +flat instant before culmination and movement. I had gone down +post-haste to my well-beloved Tiverton, in response to the news sent me +by a dear countrywoman, that Nancy Boyd, whom I had not seen since my +long absence in Europe, was dying of "galloping consumption." Nancy +wanted to bid me good-by. Hiram Cole met me, lean-jawed, dust-colored, +wrinkled as of old, with the overalls necessitated by his "sleddin'" at +least four inches too short. Not the Pyramids themselves were such +potent evidence that time may stand still, withal, as this lank, +stooping figure, line for line exactly what it had been five years +before. Hiram helped me into the pung, took his place beside me, and +threw a conversational "huddup" to the rakish-looking sorrel colt. We +dashed sluing away down the country road, and then I turned to look at +my old friend. He was steadfastly gazing at the landscape ahead, the +while he passed one wiry hand over his face, to smooth out its +broadening smile. He was glad to see me, but his private code of +decorum forbade the betrayal of any such "shaller" emotion. + +"Well, Hiram," I began, "Tiverton looks exactly the same, doesn't it? +And poor Nancy, how is she?" + +"Nancy's pretty low," said Hiram, drawing his mitten over the hand that +had been used to iron out his smile, and giving critical attention to +the colt's off hind-leg. "She hil' her own all winter, but now, come +spring, she's breakin' up mighty fast. They don't cal'late she'll live +more'n a day or two." + +"Her poor husband! How will he get along without her!" + +Hiram turned upon me with vehemence. + +"Why, don't you know?" said he. "'Ain't nobody told ye? She 'ain't got +no husband." + +"What? Is the Cap'n dead?" + +"Dead? Bless ye, he's divorced from Nancy, an' married another woman, +two year ago come this May!" + +I was amazed, and Hiram looked at me with the undisguised triumph of +one who has news to sell, be it good or bad. + +"But Nancy has written me!" I said. "She told me the neighborhood +gossip; why didn't she tell me that?" + +"Pride, I s'pose, pride," said Hiram. "You can't be sure how misery'll +strike folks. It's like a September gale; the best o' barns'll blow +down, an' some rickety shanty'll stan' the strain. But there! Nancy's +had more to bear from the way she took her troubles than from the +troubles themselves. Ye see, 'twas this way. Cap'n Jim had his own +reasons for wantin' to git rid of her, an' I guess there was a time +when he treated her pretty bad. I guess he as good's turned her out o' +house an' home, an' when he sued for divorce for desertion, she never +said a word; an' he got it, an' up an' married, as soon as the law'd +allow, Nancy never opened her head, all through it. She jest settled +down, with a bed an' a chair or two, in that little house she owned +down by Wilier Brook, an' took in tailorin' an' mendin'. One spell, she +bound shoes. The whole town was with her till she begun carryin' on +like a crazed creatur', as she did arterwards." + +My heart sank. Poor Nancy! if she had really incurred the public scorn, +it must have been through dire extremity. + +"Ye see," Hiram continued, "folks were sort o' tried with her from the +beginnin'. You know what a good outfit she had from her mother's +side,--bureaus, an' beddin', an' everything complete? Well, she left it +all right there in the house, for Jim to use, an' when he brought his +new woman home, there the things set jest the same, an' he never said a +word. I don't deny he ought to done different, but then, if Nancy +wouldn't look out for her own interests, you can't blame him so much, +now can ye? But the capsheaf come about a year ago, when Nancy had a +smart little sum o' money left her,--nigh onto a hunderd dollars. Jim +he'd got into debt, an' his oxen died, an' one thing an' another, he +was all wore out, an' had rheumatic fever; an' if you'll b'lieve it, +Nancy she went over an' done the work, an' let his wife nuss him. She +wouldn't step foot into the bedroom, they said; she never see Jim once, +but there she was, slavin' over the wash-tub and ironin'-board,--an' as +for that money, I guess it went for doctor's stuff an' what all, for +Jim bought a new yoke of oxen in the spring." + +"But the man! the other wife! how could they?" + +"Oh, Jim's wife's a pretty tough-hided creatur', an' as for him, I +al'ays thought the way Nancy behaved took him kind o' by surprise, an' +he had to give her her head, an' let her act her pleasure. But it made +a sight o' town talk. Some say Nancy ain't quite bright to carry on so, +an' the women-folks seem to think she's a good deal to blame, one way +or another. Anyhow, she's had a hard row to hoe. Here we be, an' +there's Hannah at the foreroom winder. You won't think o' goin' over to +Nancy's till arter supper, will ye?" + +When I sat alone beside Nancy's bed, that night, I had several sides of +her sad story in mind, but none of them lessened the dreariness of the +tragedy. Before my brief acquaintance with her, Nancy was widely known +as a travelling-preacher, one who had "the power." She must have been a +strangely attractive creature, in those early days, alert, intense, +gifted with such a magnetic reaching into another life that it might +well set her aside from the commoner phases of a common day, and +crowned, as with flame, by an unceasing aspiration for the highest. At +thirty, she married a dashing sailor, marked by the sea, even to the +rings in his ears; and when I knew them, they were solidly comfortable +and happy, in a way very reassuring to one who could understand Nancy's +temperament; for she was one of those who, at every step, are flung +aside from the world's sharp corners, bruised and bleeding. + +As to the storm and shipwreck of her life, I learned no particulars +essentially new. Evidently her husband had suddenly run amuck, either +from the monotony of his inland days, or from the strange passion he +had conceived for a woman who was Nancy's opposite. + +That night, I sat in the poor, bare little room, beside the billowing +feather-bed where Nancy lay propped upon pillows, and gazing with +bright, glad eyes into my face, one thin little hand clutching mine +with the grasp of a soul who holds desperately to life. And yet Nancy +was not clinging to life itself; she only seemed to be, because she +clung to love. + +"I'm proper glad to see ye," she kept saying, "proper glad." + +We were quite alone. The fire burned cheerily in the kitchen stove, and +a cheap little clock over the mantel ticked unmercifully fast; it +seemed in haste for Nancy to be gone. The curtains were drawn, lest the +thrifty window-plants should be frostbitten, and several tumblers of +jelly on the oilcloth-covered table bore witness that the neighbors had +put aside their moral scruples and their social delicacy, and were +giving of their best, albeit to one whose ways were not their ways. But +Nancy herself was the centre and light of the room,--so frail, so +clean, with her plain nightcap and coarse white nightgown, and the +small checked shawl folded primly over her shoulders. Thin as she was, +she looked scarcely older than when I had seen her, five years ago; yet +since then she had walked through a blacker valley than the one before +her. + +"Now don't you git all nerved up when I cough," she said, lying back +exhausted after a paroxysm. "I've got used to it; it don't trouble me +no more'n a mosquiter. I want to have a real good night now, talkin' +over old times." + +"You must try to sleep," I said. "The doctor will blame me, if I let +you talk." + +"No, he won't," said Nancy, shrewdly. "He knows I 'ain't got much time +afore me, an' I guess he wouldn't deny me the good on't. That's why I +sent for ye, dear; I 'ain't had anybody I could speak out to in five +year, an' I wanted to speak out, afore I died. Do you remember how you +used to come over an' eat cold b'iled dish for supper, that last summer +you was down here?" + +"Oh, don't I, Nancy! there never was anything like it. Such cold +potatoes--" + +"B'iled in the pot-liquor!" she whispered, a knowing gleam in her blue +eyes. "That's the way; on'y everybody don't know. An' do you remember +the year we had greens way into the fall, an' I wouldn't tell you what +they was? Well, I will, now; there was chickweed, an' pusley, an' +mustard, an' Aaron's-rod, an' I dunno what all." + +"Not Aaron's-rod, Nancy! it never would have been so good!" + +"It's truth an' fact! I b'iled Aaron's-rod, an' you eat it. That was +the year Mis' Blaisdell was mad because you had so many meals over to +my house, an' said it was the last time she'd take summer boarders an' +have the neighbors feed 'em." + +"They were good old days, Nancy!" + +"I guess they were! yes, indeed, I guess so! Now, dear, I s'pose you've +heard what I've been through, sence you went away?" + +I put the thin hand to my cheek. + +"Yes," I said, "I have heard." + +"Well, now, I want to tell you the way it 'pears to me. You'll hear the +neighbors' side, an' arter I'm gone, they'll tell you I was +under-witted or bold. They've been proper good to me sence I've been +sick, but law! what do they know about it, goin' to bed at nine +o'clock, an' gittin' up to feed the chickens an' ride to meetin' with +their husbands? No more'n the dead! An' so I want to tell ye my story, +myself. Now, don't you mind my coughing dear! It don't hurt, to speak +of, an' I feel better arter it. + +"Well, I dunno where to begin. The long an' short of it was, dear, +James he got kind o' uneasy on land, an' then he was tried with me, an' +then he told me, one night, when he spoke out, that he didn't care +about me as he used to, an' he never should, an' we couldn't live no +longer under the same roof. He was goin' off the next day to sea, or to +the devil, he said, so he needn't go crazy seein' Mary Ann Worthen's +face lookin' at him all the time. It ain't any use tryin' to tell how I +felt. Some troubles ain't no more 'n a dull pain, an' some are like +cuts an' gashes. You can feel your heart drop, drop, like water off the +eaves. Mine dropped for a good while arter that. Well, you see I'd been +through the fust stages of it. I'd been eat up by jealousy, an' I'd +slaved like a dog to git him back; but now it had got beyond such +folderol. He was in terrible trouble, an' I'd got to git him out. An' I +guess 'twas then that I begun to feel as if I was his mother, instid of +his wife. 'Jim,' says I, (somehow I have to Say 'James,' now we're +separated!) 'don't you fret. I'll go off an' leave ye, an' you can get +clear o' me accordin' to law, if you want to. I'm sure you can. I +sha'n't care.' He turned an' looked at me, as if I was crazed or he was +himself, 'You won't care?' he says. 'No,' says I, 'I sha'n't care.' I +said it real easy, for 'twas true. Somehow, I'd got beyond carin'. My +heart dropped blood, but I couldn't bear to have him in trouble. 'They +al'ays told me I was cut out for an old maid,' I says, 'an' I guess I +be. Housekeepin' 's a chore, anyway. You let all the stuff set right +here jest as we've had it, an' ask Cap'n Fuller to come an' bring his +chist; an' I'll settle down in the Willer Brook house an' make +button-holes. It's real pretty work.' You see, the reason I was so high +for it was 't I knew if he went to sea, he'd git in with a swearin', +drinkin' set, as he did afore, an' in them days such carryin's-on were +dretful to me. If I'd known he'd marry, I dunno what course I should +ha' took; for nothin' could ha' made that seem right to me, arter all +had come and gone. But I jest thought how James was a dretful handy man +about the house, an' I knew he set by Cap'n Fuller. The Cap'n 'ain't no +real home, you know, an' I thought they'd admire to bach it together." + +"Did you ever wonder whether you had done right? Did you ever think it +would have been better for him to keep his promises to you? For him to +be unhappy?" + +A shade of trouble crossed her face. + +"I guess I did!" she owned. "At fust, I was so anxious to git out o' +his way, I never thought of anything else; but when I got settled down +here, an' had all my time for spec'latin' on things, I was a good deal +put to 't whether I'd done the best anybody could. But I didn't reason +much, in them days; I jest felt. All was, I couldn't bear to have James +tied to me when he'd got so's to hate me. Well, then he married--" + +"Was she a good woman?" + +"Good enough, yes; a leetle mite coarse-grained, but well-meanin' all +through. Well, now, you know the neighbors blamed me for lettin' her +have my things. Why, bless you, I didn't need 'em! An' Jim had used 'em +so many years, he'd ha' missed 'em if they'd been took away. Then he +never was forehanded, an' how could he ha' furnished a house all over +ag'in, I'd like to know? The neighbors never understood. The amount of +it was, they never was put in jest such a place, any of 'em." + +"O Nancy, Nancy!" I said, "you cared for just one thing, and it was +gone. You didn't care for the tables and chairs that were left behind!" + +Two tears came, and dimmed her bright blue eyes. Her firm, delicate +mouth quivered. + +"Yes," she said, "you see how 'twas. I knew you would. Well, arter he +was married, there was a spell when 'twas pretty tough. Sometimes I +couldn't hardly help goin' over there by night an' peekin' into the +winder, an' seein' how they got along. I went jest twice. The fust time +was late in the fall, an' she was preservin' pears by lamplight. I +looked into the kitchin winder jest as she was bendin' over the stove, +tryin' the syrup, an' he was holdin' the light for her to see. I dunno +what she said, but 'twas suthin' that made 'em both laugh out, an' then +they turned an' looked at one another, proper pleased. I dunno why, but +it took right hold o' me, an' I started runnin' an' I never stopped +till I got in, here an' onto my own bed. I thought 'twould ha' been +massiful if death had took me that night, but I'm glad it didn't, dear, +I'm glad it didn't! I shouldn't ha' seen ye, if it had, an' there's a +good many things I shouldn't ha' had time to study out. You jest put a +mite o' cayenne pepper in that cup, an' turn some hot water on it. It +kind o' warms me up." + +After a moment's rest, she began again. + +"The next time I peeked was the last, for that night they'd had some +words, an' they both set up straight as a mack'rel, an' wouldn't speak +to one another. That hurt me most of anything. I never've got over the +feelin' that I was James's mother, an' that night I felt sort o' +bruised all through, as if some stranger'd been hurtin' him. So I never +went spyin' on 'em no more. I felt as if I couldn't stan' it. But when +I went to help her with the work, that time he was sick, I guess the +neighbors thought I hadn't any sense of how a right-feelin' woman ought +to act. I guess they thought I was sort o' coarse an' low, an' didn't +realize what I'd, been through. Dear, don't you never believe it. The +feelin' that's between husband an' wife's like a live creatur', an' +when he told me that night that he didn't prize me no more, he wounded +it; an' when he married the other woman, he killed it dead. If he'd ha' +come back to me then, an' swore he was the same man I married, I could +ha' died for him, jest as I would this minute, but he never should ha' +touched me. But suthin' had riz up in the place o' the feelin' I had +fust, so't I never could ha' helped doin' for him, any more'n if he'd +been my own child." + +"'In the resurrection, they neither marry nor are given in marriage!'" + +"I guess that's it," said Nancy. "On'y you have to live through a good +deal afore you understand it. Well, now, dear, I'm nearin' the end. +There's one thing that's come to me while I've been livin' through +this, that I 'ain't never heard anybody mention; an' I want you to +remember it, so's you can tell folks that are in great trouble, the way +I've been. I've been thinkin' on't out that there's jest so much of +everything in the world,--so much gold, so much silver, so many +di'monds. You can't make no more nor no less. All you can do is to pass +'em about from hand to hand, so't sometimes here'll be somebody that's +rich, an' then it'll slip away from him, an' he'll be poor. Now, +accordin' to my lights, it's jes' so with love. There's jest so much, +an' when it's took away from you, an' passed over to somebody else, +it's alive, it's there, same as ever it was. So 't you ain't goin' to +say it's all holler an' empty, this world. You're goin' to say, 'Well, +it's som'er's, if 'tain't with me!'" + +Nancy had straightened herself, without the support of her pillows. Her +eyes were bright. A faint flush had come upon her cheeks. A doctor +would have told me that my devoted friendship had not saved me from +being a wretched nurse. + +"My home was broke up," she went on, "but there's a nice, pretty house +there jest the same. There's a contented couple livin' in it, an' what +if the wife ain't me? It ain't no matter. P'r'aps it's a lot better +that somebody else should have it, somebody that couldn't git along +alone; an' not me, that can see the rights o' things. Jest so much +love, dear--don't you forgit that--no matter where 'tis! An' James +could take his love away from me, but the Lord A'mighty himself can't +take mine from him. An' so 'tis, the world over. You can al'ays love +folks, an' do for 'em, even if your doin' 's only breakin' your heart +an' givin' 'em up. An' do you s'pose there's any sp'ere o' life where +I sha'n't be allowed to do somethin' for James? I guess not, dear, I +guess not, even if it's only keepin' away from him." + +Nancy lived three days, in a state of delighted content with us and our +poor ministrations; and only once did we approach the subject of that +solemn night. As the end drew near, I became more and more anxious to +know if she had a wish unfulfilled, and at length I ventured to ask her +softly, when we were alone,-- + +"Would you like to see him?" + +Her bright eyes looked at me, in a startled way. + +"No, dear, no," she said, evidently surprised that I could ask it. +"Bless you, no!" + + + + +STROLLERS IN TIVERTON + + +In Tiverton, when reminiscences are in order, we go back to one very +rich year; then the circus and strolling players came to town, and the +usual camp-meeting was followed by an epidemic of scarlet fever, which +might have stood forth as the judgment of heaven, save that the newly +converted were stricken first and undoubtedly fared hardest. Hiram Cole +said it was because they'd "got all their nerve-juice used up, +hollerin' hallelujah." But that I know not. This theory of nerve-juice, +was a favorite one with Hiram: he contended that it had a powerful hand +in determining the results of presidential elections; and, indeed, in +swaying the balance of power among the nations of the earth. + +Even in the early spring, there had been several cases of fever at +Sudleigh; and so, when the circus made application for a license to +take possession of the town, according to olden custom, the public +authorities very wisely refused. Tiverton, however, was wroth at this +arbitrary restriction. For more years than I can say, she had driven +over to Sudleigh "to see the caravan;" and now, through some +crack-brained theory of contagion, the caravan was to be barred out. We +never really believed that the town-fathers had taken their highhanded +measure on account of scarlet fever. We saw in it some occult political +significance, and referred ominously to the butter we carried there on +Saturdays, and to the possibility that, if they cast us off, a +separation might affect them far more seriously than it would us. But +to our loud-voiced delight, the caravan, finding that it was to be +within hailing distance, and unwilling to pass on without further +tribute, extended the sceptre to Tiverton herself; and Brad Freeman +joyfully discussed the project of making a circus ground of his old +race-course, which, he declared, he had purposed planting with tobacco. +We never knew whether to believe this or not, though we had many times +previously gone over Brad's calculation, by which he figured that he +could sell at least three tons of fine-cut from one summer's produce. +To that specious logic, we always listened with unwilling admiration; +but when we could shake off the glamour inseparable from a problem made +to come out right, we were accustomed to turn to one another, demanding +with cold scepticism, "Where'd he git his seed?" + +In spite of the loss of this potential crop, however, Brad was +magnanimously willing to let his field; and Tiverton held her head +high, in the prospect of having a circus of her own. We intimated that +it would undoubtedly be fair weather, owing to our superior moral +desert as compared with that of Sudleigh, which was annually afflicted +with what had long been known as "circus-weather." For Sudleigh had +sinned, and Nature was thenceforth deputed to pay her back, in good old +Hebrew style. One circus-day--before the war, as I believe--Sudleigh +fenced up the spring in a corner of her grounds, and with a foolish +thrift sold ice-water to the crowd, at a penny a glass. Tiverton was +furious, and so, apparently, were the just heavens; for every +circus-day thereafter it rained, in a fashion calculated to urge any +forehanded Noah into immediate action. We of Tiverton never allowed our +neighbor to forget her criminal lapse. When, on circus-afternoon, we +met one of the rival township, dripping as ourselves, we said, with all +the cheerfulness of conscious innocence,-- + +"Water enough for everybody, to-day! Guess ye won't have to peddle none +out!" + +"Seems to be comin' down pretty fast! You better build a platfoam over +that spring! Go hard with ye if't overflowed!" + +Strange to say, Sudleigh seemed to regard these time-licensed remarks +with little favor; she even intimated that they smacked of the past, +and were wearisome in her nostrils. But not for that did we halt in +their distribution. Moreover, we flaunted our domestic loyalty by +partaking of no Sudleigh fluid within the grounds. We carried tea, +coffee, lemonade, milk, an ambitious variety of drinks, in order that +even our children might be spared the public disgrace of tasting +Sudleigh water; and it was a part of our excellent fooling to invite +every Sudleighian to drink with us. Even the virtues, however, spare +their votaries no pang; and in every family, this unbending fealty +resulted in the individual members' betaking themselves to the pump or +well, immediately on getting home, even before attempting to unharness. +About five o'clock, on circus-afternoon, there would be a general +rumbling of buckets and creaking of sweeps, while a chorus rose to +heaven, "My! I was 'most choked!" + +But our _fête_-day dawned bright and speckless. We rose before three +o'clock, every man, woman and child of us, to see the procession come +into town. It would leave the railway at Sudleigh, and we had a faint +hope of its forming in regulation style, and sweeping into Tiverton, a +blaze of glittering chariots surmounted by queens of beauty, of lazy +beasts of the desert sulking in their cages, and dainty-stepping +horses, ridden by bold amazons. For a time, the expectation kept us +bright and hopeful, although most of us had only taken a "cold bite" +before starting; but as the eastern saffron pencilled one line of light +and the bird chorus swelled in piercing glory, we grew cross and all +unbefitting the smiling morn. Only Dilly Joyce looked sunshiny as ever, +for she had no domestic cares to beckon her; she and Nance Pete, who +was in luck that day, having a full pipe. Dilly had nestled into a +rock, curved in the form of a chair, and lay watching the eastern sky, +a faint smile of pleasure parting her lips when the saffron hardened +into gold. + +"Nice, dear, ain't it?" she said, as I paused a moment near her, "I +al'ays liked the side o' the road. But it's kind o' disturbin' to have +so much talk. I dunno's you can help it, though, where there's so many +people. Most o' the time, I'm better on't to home, but I did want to +see an elephant near to!" + +The sky broadened into light, and the birds jeered at us, poor, +draggled folk who lived in boxes and were embarrassed by the morn. The +men grew nervous, for milking-time was near, and in imagination I have +no doubt they heard the lowing of reproachful kine. + +"Well, 'tain't no use," said Eli Pike, rising from the stone-wall, and +stretching himself, with decision. "I've got to 'tend to them cows, +whether or no!" And he strolled away on the country-road, without a +look behind. Most of the other men, as in honor bound, followed him; +and the women, with loud-voiced protest against an obvious necessity, +trailed after them, to strain the milk. Only we who formed the gypsy +element were left behind. + +"I call it a real shame!" announced Mrs. Pike, gathering her summer +shawl about her shoulders, and stepping away with an offended dignity +such as no delinquent elephant could have faced. "I warrant ye, they +wouldn't ha' treated Sudleigh so. They wouldn't ha' dared!" + +"I dunno's Sudleigh's any more looked up to'n we be," said Caleb +Rivers, who had been so tardy in bestirring himself that he formed a +part of the women's corps. "I guess, if the truth was known, Tiverton +covers more land'n Sudleigh does, on'y Sudleigh's all humped up +together into a quart bowl. I guess there's countries that 'ain't heard +o' Sudleigh, an' wouldn't stan' much in fear if they had!" + +And so Tiverton dispersed, unamiably, and with its public pride hurt to +the quick. I tried to take pattern by Dilly Joyce, and steal from +nature a little of the wonderful filial enjoyment which came to her +unsought. When Dilly watched the sky, I did, also; when she brightened +at sound of a bird hitherto silent, I tried to set down his notes in my +memory; and when she closed her eyes, and shut out the world, to think +it over, I did the same. But the result was different. Probably Dilly +opened hers again upon the lovely earth, but I drifted off into +dreamland, and only awoke, two hours after, to find the scenes +marvellously changed. It was bright, steady morning, the morning come +to stay. Tiverton had performed its dairy rites, and returned again, +enlivened by a cup of tea; and oh, incredible joy! there was a grunting +and panting, a swaying of mighty flanks. The circus was approaching, +from Sudleigh way. Instantly I was alert and on my feet, for it would +have been impossible to miss the contagion of the general joy. I knew +how we felt, not as individuals, but as Tivertonians alone. We were +tolerant potentates, waiting, in gracious majesty, to receive a +deputation from the farther East. It grieves me much to stop here and +confess, with a necessary honesty, that this was but a sorry circus, +gauged by the conventional standards; else, I suppose, it had never +come to Tiverton at all. The circus-folk had evidently dressed for +travelling, not for us. The chariots, some of them still hooded in +canvas, were very small and tarnished. There were but three elephants, +two camels, and a most meagre display of those alluring cages made to +afford even the careless eye a sudden, quickening glimpse of restless, +tawny form, or slothful hulk within. Yet why depreciate the raw +material whereof Fancy has power divine to build her altogether perfect +heights? Here was the plain, homely setting of our plainer lives, and +right into the midst of it had come the East. The elephants affected us +most; we probably thought little about the immemorial mystery, the +vague, occult tradition wrapped in that mouse-colored hide; but even to +our dense Western imagination such quickening suggestion was vividly +apparent. We knew our world; usually it seemed to us the only one, even +when we looked at the stars. But at least one other had been created, +and before us appeared its visible sign,--my lord the elephant! There +he was, swaying along, conscious philosopher, conscious might, yet +holding his omniscience in the background, and keeping a wary eye out +for the peanuts with which we simple country souls had not provided +ourselves. There was one curious thing about it all. We had seen the +circus at Sudleigh, as I have said, yet the fact of entertaining it +within our borders made it seem exactly as if we had never laid eyes +upon it before. This was our caravan, and God Almighty had created the +elephant for us. Dilly Joyce slipped her hand quickly in mine and +pressed it hard. She was quite pale. Yet it was she who acted upon the +first practical thought. She recovered herself before my lord went by, +took a ginger cookie from her pocket, and put it into Davie Tolman's +hand. + +"Here," she said, pushing him forward, "you go an' offer it to him. +He'll take it. See'f he don't!" + +Davie accepted the mission with joy, and persisted in it until he found +himself close beside that swaying bulk, and saw the long trunk curved +enticingly toward him. Then he uttered one explosive howl, and fell +back on the very toes of us who were pressing forward to partake, by +right of sympathy, in the little drama. + +"Lordy Massy, keep still!" cried out Nance Pete; and she snatched him +up bodily, and held him out to the elephant. I believe my own pang at +that moment to have been general. I forgot that elephants are not +carnivorous, and shuddered back, under the expectation of seeing Davie +devoured, hide and hair. But Nance had the address to stiffen the +little arm, and my lord took the cookie, still clutched in the +despairing hand, and passed on. Then Davie wiped his eyes, after +peeping stealthily about to see whether any one was disposed to jeer at +him, and took such courage that he posed, ever after, as the hero of +the day. + +The procession had nearly passed us when we saw a sight calculated to +animate us anew with a justifiable pride. Sudleigh itself, its young +men and maidens, old men and children, was following the circus into +our town. It would not have a circus of its own, forsooth, but it would +share in ours! We, as by one consent, assumed an air of dignified +self-importance. We were the hosts of the day; we bowed graciously to +such of our guests as we knew, and, with a mild tolerance, looked over +the heads of those who were unfamiliar. Yet nothing checked our happy +companionship with the caravan; still we followed by the side of the +procession, through tangles of blackberry vine, and over ditch and +stubble. Some of the boys mounted the walls, and ran wildly, dislodging +stones as they went, and earning no reproof from the fathers who, on +any other day, would have been alive to a future mowing and the +clashing of scythe and rock. There was, moreover, an impression abroad +that our progress could by no means be considered devoid of danger. + +"S'pose that fellar should rise up, an' wrench off them bars!" +suggested Heman Blaisdell, pointing out one cage where a great +creature, gaudy in stripes, paced back and forth, throwing us an +occasional look of scorn and great despite. "I wouldn't give much for +my chances! Nor for anybody else's!" + +"My soul an' body!" ejaculated a woman. "I hope they don't forgit to +lock them cages up! Folks git awful careless when they do a thing every +day! I forgot to shet up the hins last week, an' that was the night the +skunk got in." + +"I'm glad Brad brought his gun," said another, in the tone of one who +would have crossed herself had there been a saint to help. And +thereafter we kept so thickly about Brad, walking with his long free +stride, that his progress became impeded, and he almost fell over us. +Suddenly, from the front, a man's voice rose in an imperative cry,-- + +"Turn round! turn round!" + +Quite evidently the mandate was addressed to us, and we turned in a +mass, fleeing back into Sudleigh's very arms. For a moment, it was like +Sparta and Persia striving in the Pass; then Sudleigh turned also, such +as were on foot, and fled with us. We pressed up the bank, as soon as +we could collect our errant wits; some of us, with a sense of coming +calamity, mounted the very wall, and there we had a moment to look +about us. The caravan was keeping steadily on, like fate and taxes, and +facing it stood a carryall attached to a frightened horse. On the front +seat, erect in her accustomed majesty, sat Aunt Melissa Adams; and +Uncle Hiram, ever a humble charioteer, was by her side. They, too, had +driven out to see the circus, but alas! it had not struck them that +they might meet it midway, with no volition of drawing up at the side +of the road and allowing it to pass. The old horse, hardened to the +vicissitudes of many farming seasons, had necessarily no acquaintance +with the wild beasts of the Orient; no past experience, tucked away in +his wise old head, could explain them in the very least. He plunged and +reared; he snorted with fear, and Aunt Melissa began to emit shrieks of +such volume and quality that the mangy lion, composing himself to sleep +in his cage, rose, and sent forth a cry that Tiverton will long +remember. We did not stop to explain our forebodings, but we were sure +that, in some mysterious way, Aunt Melissa was doomed, and that she had +brought her misfortune on herself. A second Daniel, she had no special +integrity to stand her in need. And still the circus advanced, and the +horse snorted and backed. He was a gaunt old beast, but in his terror, +one moment of beauty dignified him beyond belief. His head was high, +his eyes were starting. + +"Turn round!" cried the men, but Uncle Hiram was paralyzed, and the +reins lay supine in his hands, while he screamed a wheezy "Whoa!" Then +Brad Freeman, as usual in cases outside precedent, became the good +angel of Tiverton. He forced his gun on the person nearest at hand--who +proved to be Nance Pete--and dashed forward. Seizing the frightened +horse by the head, he cramped the wheel scientifically, and turned him +round. Then he gave him a smack on the flank, and the carryall went +reeling and swaying back into Tiverton, the _avant-courrier_ of the +circus. You should have heard Aunt Melissa's account of that ride, an +epic moment which she treasured, in awe, to the day of her death. +According to her, it asked no odds from the wild huntsman, or the +Gabriel hounds. Well, we cowards came down from the wall, assuring each +other, with voices still shaking a little, that we knew it was nothing, +after all, and that nobody but Aunt Melissa would make such a fuss. How +she did holler! we said, with conscious pride in our own +self-possession when brought into unexpectedly close relations with +wild beasts; and we trudged happily along through the dust stirred by +alien trampling, back to Tiverton Street, and down into Brad Freeman's +field. It would hardly be possible to describe our joy in watching the +operation of tent-raising, nor our pride in Brad Freeman, when he +assumed the character of host, and not only made the circus-folk free +of the ground they had hired, but hurried here and there, helping with +such address and muscular vigor that we felt defrauded in never having +known how accomplished he really was. The strollers recognized his +type, in no time; they were joking with him and clapping him on the +back before the first tent had been unrolled. Now, none of us had ever +seen a circus performer, save in the ring; and I think we were +disappointed, for a moment, at finding we had in our midst no spangled +angels in rosy tights, no athletes standing on their heads by choice, +and quite preferring the landscape upside down, but a set of shabbily +dressed, rather jaded men and women, who were, for all the world, just +like ourselves, save that they walked more gracefully, and spoke in +softer voice. But when the report went round that the cook was getting +breakfast ready--out of doors, too!--we were more than compensated for +the loss of such tinsel joys. Chattering and eager, we ran over to the +dining-tent, and there, close beside it, found the little kitchen, its +ovens smoking hot, and a man outside, aproned and capped, cutting up +chops and steaks, with careless deftness, and laying them in the great +iron pans, preparatory to broiling. + +"By all 't's good an' bad!" swore Tom McNeil, a universal and sweeping +oath he much affected, "they've got a whole sheep an' a side o' beef! +Well, it's high livin', an' no mistake!" + +We who considered a few pies a baking, watched this wholesale cookery +in bewildered fascination. A savory smell arose to heaven. I never was +so hungry in my life, and I believe all Tiverton would own to the same +craving. Perhaps some wild instinct sprang up in us with the scent of +meat in out-door air, but at any rate, we became much exhilarated, and +our attention was only turned from the beguiling chops by Mrs. Wilson's +saying, in a low tone, to her husband,-- + +"Lothrop, if there ain't Lucindy, an' that Molly McNeil with her! +What's Lucindy got? My sake alive! you might ha' known she'd do suthin' +to make anybody wish they'd stayed to home. If you can git near her, +you keep a tight holt on her, or she'll be jumpin' through a hoop!" + +I turned, with the rest. Yes, there was Miss Lucindy, tripping happily +across the level field. Molly McNeil hastened beside her, and between +them they carried a large clothes-basket, overflowing with flaming +orange-red; a basket heaped with sunset, not the dawn! They were very +near me when I guessed what it was; so near that I could see the happy +smile on Lucindy's parted lips, and note how high the rose flush had +risen in her delicate cheek, with happiness and haste. + +"Stortions!" broke out a voice near me, in virile scorn,--Nance +Pete's,--"stortions! Jes' like her! Better picked 'em a mess o' pease!" + +It was, indeed, a basket of red nasturtiums, and the sun had touched +them into a glory like his own. For one brief moment, we were ashamed +of Lucindy's "shallerness" and irrelevancy; but the circus people +interpreted her better. They rose from box and hamper where they had +been listlessly awaiting their tardy breakfast, and crowded forward to +meet her. They knew, through the comradeship of all Bohemia, exactly +what she meant. + +"My!" said Miss Lucindy, smiling full at them as they came,--her old, +set smile had been touched, within a year, by something glad and +free,--"set 'em down now, Molly. My! are you the folks? Well, I thought +you'd seem different, somehow, but anyway, we brought you over a few +blooms. We thought you couldn't have much time, movin' round so, to +work in your gardins, especially the things you have to sow every year. +Yes, dear, yes! Take a good handful. Here's a little mignonette I put +in the bottom, so't everybody could have a sprig. Yes, there's enough +for the men, too. Why, yes, help yourself! Law, dear, why don't you +take off your veil? Hot as this is!" for the bearded lady, closely +masked in black _barège_, had come forward and hungrily stretched out a +great hand for her share. + +We never knew how it all happened, but during this clamor of happy +voices, the chops were cooked and the coffee boiled; the circus people +turned about, and trooped into the tent where the tables were set, and +they took Miss Lucindy with them. Yes, they did! Molly McNeil stayed +contentedly outside; for though she had brought her share of the +treasure, quite evidently she considered herself a friendly helper, not +a partner in the scheme. But Miss Lucindy was the queen of the +carnival. We heard one girl say to another, as our eccentric townswoman +swept past us, in the eager crowd, "Oh, the dear old thing!" We saw a +sad-eyed girl bend forward, lift a string of Miss Lucindy's apron +(which, we felt, should have been left behind in the kitchen) and give +it a hearty kiss. Later, when, by little groups, we peeped into the +dining-tent, we saw Miss Lucindy sitting there at the table, between +two women who evidently thought her the very nicest person that had +ever crossed their wandering track. There she was, an untouched roll +and chop on her plate, a cup of coffee by her side. She was not +talking. She only smiled happily at those who talked to her, and her +eyes shone very bright. We were ashamed; I confess it. For was not +Sudleigh, also, there to see? + +"Oh, my soul!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, in fretful undertone. "I wish the +old Judge was here!" + +Her husband turned and looked at her, and she quailed; not with fear of +him, but at the vision of the outraged truth. + +"Well, no," she added, weakly, "I dunno's I wish anything so bad as +that, but I do declare I think there ought to be somebody to keep a +tight grip on Lucindy!" + +Who shall deem himself worthy to write the chronicle of that glorious +day? There were so many incidents not set down in the logical drama; so +many side-shows of circumstance! We watched all the mysterious +preparations for the afternoon performance, so far as we were allowed, +with the keenness of the wise, who recognize a special wonder and will +not let it pass unproved. We surrounded Miss Lucindy, when she came +away from her breakfast party, and begged for an exact account of all +her entertainers had said; but she could tell us nothing. She only +reiterated, with eyes sparkling anew, that they were "proper nice +folks, proper nice! and she must go home and get Ellen. If she'd known +they were just like other folks she'd have brought Ellen this morning; +but she'd been afraid there'd be talk that little girls better not +hear." + +At noon, we sat about in the shade of the trees along the wall, and ate +delicious cold food from the butter-boxes and baskets our men-folks had +brought over during the forenoon lull; and we assiduously offered +Sudleigh a drink, whenever it passed the counter where barrels of free +spring-water had been set. And then, at the first possible moment, we +paid our fee, and went inside the tent to see the animals. That scrubby +menagerie had not gained in dignity from its transference to canvas +walls. The enclosure was very hot and stuffy; there was a smell of dust +and straw. The lion stretched himself, from time to time, and gave an +angry roar for savage, long-lost joys. One bear, surely new to the +business, kept walking up and down, up and down, moaning, in an abandon +of homesickness. Brad Freeman stood before the cage when I was there. + +"Say, Brad," said the Crane boy, slipping his arm into the hunter's, in +a good-fellowship sure to be reciprocated. "Davie Tolman said you's +goin' to fetch over your fox, an' sell him to the circus. Be you?" + +"My Lord!" answered Brad, very violently for him, the ever-tolerant. +"No! I'm goin' to let him go. _Look at that!_" And while the Crane boy, +unconcerned, yet puzzled, gave his full attention to the bear, Brad +passed on. + +There was a wolf, I remember, darting about his cage, slinking, +furtive, ever on a futile prowl. He especially engaged the interest of +Tom McNeil, who said admiringly, as I, too, looked through the bars, +"Ain't he a prompt little cuss?" I felt that with Tom it was the +fascination of opposites; he never could understand superlative energy. + +Just as we were trooping into the larger tent (there were no three +rings, I beg to say, maliciously calculated to distract the attention! +One, of a goodly size, was quite enough for us!) a little voice piped +up, "The snake's got loose!" How we surged and panted, and fought one +another for our sacred lives! In vain were we urged to stand still; we +strove the more. And when a bit of rope perversely and maliciously +coiled itself round Rosa Tolman's ankle, she gave a shriek so loud and +despairing that it undid us anew. If Sheriff Holmes had not come +forward and sworn at us, I believe we should have trampled one another +out of existence; but he seemed so palpably the embodiment of +authority, and his oath the oath undoubtedly selected by legislature +for that very occasion, that we paused, and on the passionate +asseveration of a circus man that the snake was safely in his cage, +consented to be calm. But Aunt Melissa Adams, unstrung by her earlier +experience, would trust no doubtful circumstance. She plodded back into +the animal-tent, assured herself, with her own eyes, of the snake's +presence at his own hearthstone, and came back satisfied, just as the +clown entered the ring. The performance needs no bush. We had palmleaf +fans offered us, pop-corn, and pink lemonade. We sweltered under the +blazing canvas, laughed at the clown's musty fooling, which deserved +rather the reverence due old age, and wondered between whiles if there +would be a shower, and if tent-poles were ever struck. Then it was all +over, and we trailed out, in great bodily discomfort and spiritual joy, +to witness, quite unlooked for, the most vivid drama of the day. Young +Dana Marden was there, he and his wife who lived down in Tiverton +Hollow. Dana was a nephew of Josh, of hapless memory, and "folks said" +that, like Josh, he had "all the Marden setness, once git him riled." +But Mary Worthen had not been in the least afraid of that when she +married him. Before their engagement, some one had casually mentioned +Dana's having inherited "setness" for his patrimony. + +"I know it," she said, "and if I had anything to do with him, I'd break +him of it, or I'd break his neck!" + +Tiverton had been very considerate in never repeating that speech to +Dana; and his wife, in all their five years of married life, had not +fulfilled her threat. As we were making ready to leave the grounds, +that day, and those who had horses were "tacklin up," we became aware +that Dana, a handsome, solid, fresh-colored fellow, sat in his wagon +with pretty Mary beside him, and that they evidently had no intention +of moving on. Of course we approached, to find out what the trouble +might be. + +"We can send word to have Tom Bunker milk the cows," said Dana, with +distinct emphasis, "an' we can stay for the evenin' performance. Or we +can go now. Only, you've got to say which!" + +"I don't want to say," returned Mary, placidly, "because I don't know +which you'd rather have. You just tell me _so_ much!" + +A frown contracted his brow; he looked a middle-aged man. When he +spoke, his voice grated. + +"You tell which, or we'll set here all night, an' I don't speak another +word to you till you do!" + +But Mary said nothing. + +"My soul!" whispered Mrs. Rivers to me. "She's got herself into it now, +jest as they say Lyddy Ann Marden done, with Josh. She'll have to back +down!" + +Several more of those aimless on-lookers, ever ready for the making of +crowds, surged forward. The wagon was blocking the way. We realised +with shame that Sudleigh, too, was here, to say nothing of sister towns +less irritating to our pride. It was Uncle Eli Pike who stepped into +the breach. + +"Here, Dana!" he called, and, as we were glad to remember, all the +aliens in the crowd could hear, "I guess that hoss o' yourn's gittin' a +mite balky. I'll lead him a step, if you say so." And without a word of +assent from Dana, he guided the horse out of the grounds, and started +him on the road. We watched the divided couple, on their common way. +Dana was driving, it is true; but we knew, with a heavy certainty, that +he was not speaking to his wife. He was a Marden, and nothing would +make him speak. + +This slight but very significant episode sent us home in a soberer mind +than any of us had anticipated, after the gaudy triumphs of the day. We +could not quell our curiosity over the upshot of it all, and that +night, after the chores were done, we sat in the darkness, +interspersing our comments on the spangled butterflies of horse and +hoop with an awed question, now and then, while the minute-hand sped, +"S'pose they've spoke yit?" + +Alas! the prevailing voice was still against it; and when we went to +market, and met there the people from the Hollow (who were somewhat +more bucolic than we), they passed about the open secret. Dana did not +speak to his wife. Again we knew he never would. The summer waned; the +cows were turned into the shack, and the most "forehanded" among us +began to cut boughs for banking up the house, and set afoot other +preparations for winter's cold. Still Dana had not spoken. But the +effect on Mary was inexplicable to us all. We knew she loved him +deeply, and that the habits of their relationship were very tender; we +expected her to sink and fail under the burden of this sudden exile of +the heart, just as Lyddy Ann had done, so many years ago. But Mary held +her head high, and kept her color. She even "went abroad" more than +usual; ostentatiously so, we thought, for she would come over to +Tiverton to pass the afternoon, after the good, old-fashioned style, +with women whom she knew but slightly. And, most incredible of all, +though Dana would not speak to her, she spoke to him! Once, in driving +past, I heard her clear voice (it seemed now a dauntless voice!) +calling,-- + +"Dana, dinner's ready!" Dana dropped the board he was carrying, and +went in, a fierce yet dogged look upon his face, as if it needed hourly +schooling to mirror his hard heart. Then the agent of the Sudleigh +"Star," who was canvassing for a new domestic paper, had also his story +to tell. He went to the Mardens', and Mary, who admitted him, put down +her name, and then called blithely into the kitchen,-- + +"Dana, I'm all out o' change. Will you hand me a dollar 'n' a quarter?" + +Dana, flushed red and overwhelmed by a pitiable embarrassment, came to +the door and gave the money; and Mary, with that proud unconsciousness +which made us wonder anew every time we saw it in her, thanked him, and +dismissed the visitor, as if nothing were wrong. The couple went as +usual to church and sociable. Certain lines deepened in Dana's face, +but Mary grew every day more light-heartedly cheerful. Yet the +one-sided silence lived, with the terrible tenacity of evil. + +So the days went on until midwinter snows began to blow, and then we +learned, with a thrill of pride, that the International Dramatic +Company proposed coming to our own little hall, for a two weeks' +engagement. Some said Sudleigh Opera House was too large for it, and +too expensive; but we, the wiser heads, were grandly aware that, with +unusual acumen, the drama had at last recognized the true emporium of +taste. We resolved that this discriminating company should not repent +its choice. A week before the great first night, magnificent posters in +red and blue set before us, in very choice English, the dramatic +performances, "Shakespearean and otherwise," destined to take place +among us. The leading parts were to be assumed by Mr. and Mrs. Van +Rensellaer Wilde, "two of the foremost artists in the stellar world, +supported by an adequate company." + +The announcement ended with the insinuating alliteration, "Popular +prices prevail." The very first night, we were at the door, an excited +crowd, absolutely before it was open; but early as we went, the +hospitable pianist held the field before us; the hall resounded with +his jocund banging at the very moment when the pioneer among us set +foot within. I have never seen anywhere, either on benefit or farewell +night, a cordiality to be compared with that which presided over our +own theatre in Tiverton Hall. Mr. Van Rensellaer Wilde himself stood +within the doorway, to greet us as we came; a personable man, with the +smooth, individual face of his profession, a moist and beery eye, a +catholic smile, tolerant enough to include the just and the unjust, a +rusty, old-fashioned stock, and the very ancientest brown Prince Albert +coat still in reputable existence,--a strange historical epitome of +brushings and spongings, of camphor exile and patient patching. Quite +evidently he was not among the prosperous, even in his stellar world. +But not for that would he repine. This present planet was an admirable +plot of ground, and here he stood, cheerfully ready to induct us, the +Puritan-born, into the fictitious joys thereof. And popular prices +prevailed; the floor of the hall itself confirmed it. It was divided, +by chalk-lines, into three sections. Enter the first division, and a +legend at your feet indicated the ten-cent territory. Advance a little, +and "twenty-five cents" met the eye; and presently, approaching the +platform, you were in the seats of the scornful, thirty-five cents +each. The latter, by common consent, were eschewed by the very first +comers, not alone for reasons of thrift, but because we thought they +ought to be left for old folks, "a leetle mite hard o' hearin'," or the +unfortunates who were "not so fur-sighted" as we. So we seated +ourselves in delight already begun, for was not Mr. Gad Greenfield +performing one of the "orchestral pieces" which the programme had led +us to expect? The piano was an antique, accustomed to serve as victim +at Sudleigh's dancing-school and sociables. I have never heard its +condition described, on its return to Sudleigh; I only know that, from +some eccentric partiality, Gad Greenfield's music was all _fortissimo_. +Sally Flint, brought thither by the much-enduring overseer, for the +sake of domestic peace, seemed to be the only one who did not regard +Gad's performance with unquestioning awe. She was heard to say aloud, +in a penetrating voice,-- + +"My soul an' body! what a racket!" + +Whereupon she deliberately pulled some wool from the tassel of her +chinchilla cloud, and stuffed a little wad into each ear. We were sorry +for the overseer, thus put to shame by his untutored charge, and +delicately looked away, after making sure Sally had "r'ared as high" as +she proposed doing. She was the overseer's cross; no one could help him +bear it. + +And now the curtain went up,--though not on the play, let me tell you! +On slighter joys, a fillip to the taste. A juggler, "all complete" in +black small-clothes and white kid gloves, stood there ready to burn up +our handkerchiefs, change our watches into rabbits, and make omelets in +our best go-to-meeting hats. I cannot remember all the wonderful things +he did (everything, I believe, judging from the roseate glow left in my +mind, everything that juggler ever achieved short of the Hindoo marvel +of cutting up maidens and splicing them together again, or planting the +magic tree); I only know we were too crafty to help him, and though he +again and again implored a volunteer from the audience to come and play +the willing victim, we clung to our settees the more, so that Gad of +the piano was obliged to fill the gap. And when the curtain came down, +and went up again on a drawing-room, with a red plush chair in it, and +a lady dressed in a long-tailed white satin gown, where were we? In +Tiverton? Nay, in the great world of fashion and of crime. I remember +very little now about the order of the plays; very little of their +names and drift. I only know we were swept triumphantly through the +widest range ever imagined since the "pastoral-comical, +historical-pastoral," of old Polonius. And in all, fat, middle-aged Wilde +was the dashing hero, the deep-dyed villain; and his wife, middle-aged +as he, and far, oh, far more corpulent! played the lovely heroine, the +blooming victim, the queen of hearts. And she was truly beautiful to +us, that blowsy dame, through the beguiling witchery of her art. The +smarting tears came into our eyes when, in "Caste," she staggered back, +despairing, lost in grief, unable to arm her soldier for the march. +Melodrama was her joy, and as we watched her lumbering about the stage +in a white muslin dress, with the artificial springiness of a youth +that would never return, we could have risen as one man, to snatch her +from the toils of villany. She was a cool piece, that swiftly +descending star! She had a way of deliberately stepping outside the +scenes and letting down her thin black hair, before the tragic moment; +then would she bound back again, and tear every passion to tatters, in +good old-fashioned style. In "The Octoroon" especially she tore our +hearts with it, so that it almost began to seem as if political issues +were imminent. For between the acts, men bent forward to their +neighbors, and put their heads together, recalling abolition times; and +one poor, harmless old farmer from Sudleigh way was glared at in a +fashion to which he had once been painfully accustomed, while murmurs +of "Copperhead! Yes, Copperhead all through the war!" must have +penetrated where he sat. But he was securely locked up in his fortress +of deaf old age, and met the hostile glances benignly, quite +unconscious of their meaning. In one particular, we felt, for a time, +that we had been deceived. The Shakespearean drama had not been touched +on as we had been led to expect; but at last, in the middle of the +second week, we were rejoiced by the announcement that "Othello" would +that night be appropriately set forth. The Moor of Venice! He would +never have recognized himself--his great creator would never have +guessed his identity--as presented by Mr. Van Rensellaer Wilde. I give +you my word for that! From beginning to end of the performance, +Tiverton groped about, in a haze of perplexity, rendered ever the more +dense by the fact that none of the actors knew their parts. I am +inclined to think they had enriched their announcement by this allusion +to the Shakespearean drama in a moment of wild ambition, as we gladly +commit ourselves to issues far-off and vague; and then, with a +chivalrous determination to vindicate their written word; they had +embarked on a troublous sea for which they had "neither mast nor sail, +nor chart nor rudder." So they went bobbing about in a tub, and we, +with a like paucity of equipment, essayed to follow them. + +Othello himself was a veiled mystery in our eyes. + +"Ain't he colored?" whispered Mrs. Wilson to me; and while I hesitated, +seeking to frame an answer both terse and true, she continued, although +he was at that moment impressing the Senate with his great apology, "Is +he free?" + +I assured her on that point, and she settled down to a troubled study +of the part, only to run hopelessly aground when Desdemona, in her +stiff white satin gown, announced her intention of cleaving to the +robust blackamoor, in spite of fate and father. That seemed a +praiseworthy action, "taken by and large," but we could not altogether +applaud it. "Abolition," as we were, the deed wounded some race +prejudice in us, and Mrs. Hiram Cole voiced the general sentiment when +she remarked audibly,-- + +"One color's as good as another, come Judgment Day, but let 'em marry +among themselves, _I_ say!" + +The poverty of the scenery had something to do with our dulness in +following the dramatic thread, for how should we know that our own +little stage, disguised by a slender tree-growth, was the island of +Cyprus, and that Desdemona, tripping through a doorway, in the same +satin gown, had just arrived from a long and perilous voyage? "The +riches of the ship" had "come on shore," but for all we knew, it had +been in the next room, taking a nap, all the while. In the crucial +scene between Cassio and Iago, we got the impression that one was as +drunk as the other, and that Cassio acted the better man of the two, +chiefly because of his grandiloquent apostrophe relative to the +thieving of brains. We approved of that, and looked meaningly round at +old Cap'n Fuller, who was at that time taking more hard cider than we +considered good for him. But when the final catastrophe came, we, +having missed the logical sequence, were totally unprepared. Mr. Wilde, +with a blackamoor fury irresistibly funny to one who has seen a city +coal-man cursing another for not moving on, smothered his shrieking +spouse in a pillow brought over for that purpose from the Blaisdells', +where most of the actors were boarding. We were not inclined to endure +this quietly. The more phlegmatic among us moved uneasily in our seats, +and one or two men, excitable beyond the ordinary, sprang up, with an +oath. Mrs. Wilson dragged her husband down again. + +"For massy sake, do set still!" she urged. "He 'ain't killed her. Don't +you see them toes a-twitchin'?" + +No, Mrs. Wilde was not dead, as her weary appearance in the afterpiece +attested; but she had been cruelly abused, and the murmurs, here and +there, as we left the hall, went far to show that Othello had done well +in voluntarily paying the debt of nature, and that Emilia thought none +too ill of him. + +"Ought to ha' been strong up, by good rights," growled Tiverton, "you +can't find a jury't would acquit _him_!" + +Night after night, we conscientiously sat out the aforesaid afterpiece, +innocently supposed to be our due because it had formed a part of the +initial performance. However long our weary strollers might delay it, +in the empty hope of our going home content, there we waited until the +curtain went up. It was a dreary piece of business, varied by +horse-play considered "kind o' rough" by even the more boisterous among +us. Sometimes it was given, minstrel-wise, in the time-honored panoply +of burnt cork; again, poor weary souls! they lacked even the spirit to +blacken themselves, and clinging to the same dialogue, played boldly in +Caucasian fairness, with the pathetically futile disguise of a Teuton +accent. And last of all, Mr. Wilde would appear before the curtain, and +"in behalf of Mrs. Wilde, self and company" thank us movingly for our +kind attention, and announce the next night's bill. + +The last half hour was my chosen time for leaning back against the +wall, and allowing thought and glance to dwell lovingly on Tiverton +faces. O worn and rugged features of the elder generation to whose +kinship we are born! What solution, even of Time, the all-potent, +shall wash your meaning from the heart? An absolute lack of +self-consciousness had quite transformed the gaze they bent upon the +stage. A veil had been swept aside, and the true soul shone forth; that +soul which ever dwells apart, either from the dignity of its estate or, +being wrought of fibre more delicate than air, because it fears recoil +and hurt. There were Roxy and her husband, he too well content with +life as it is, to be greatly moved by its counterfeit; she sparkling +back some artless reply to the challenge of feeble romance and wingless +wit. There was Uncle Eli, a little dazed by these strange doings, the +hand on his knee shaking, from time to time, under the stimulus of +unshared thought. There was Miss Lucindy, with Ellen and all the +McNeils, a care-free, happy phalanx, smiling joyously at everything set +before them, with that spontaneous rapture so good to see. One night, +Nance Pete appeared, and established herself, with great importance, in +the first row of the ten-cent seats; but she fell asleep, and snored +with embarrassing volume and precision. She never came again, and +announced indifferently, to all who cared to hear, that when she +"wanted to see a passel o' monkeys, she'd go to the circus, an' done +with it." There, too, one night when Comedy burlesqued her own rapt +self, was Dana Marden; but he came alone. Mary had a cold, we heard, +and "thought she'd better stay in." Dana sat through the foolish play, +unmoved. His brow loomed heavy, like Tragedy's own mask, and it grew +ever blacker while the scene went on. Hiram Cole whispered me,-- + +"He'll kill himself afore he's done with it. He's gone in for the whole +hog, but he 'ain't growed to it, as Old Josh had. The Marden blood run +emptin's afore it got to him." + +The last night came of all our blissful interlude, and on that night, +by some stroke of fate, the bill was "Oliver Twist." Of that +performance let naught be spoken, save in reverence. For, by divine +leading it might seem, and not their own good wit, those poor players +had been briefly touched by the one true fire. Shakespeare had beckoned +them, and they had passed him by; Comedy and Tragedy had been their +innocent sport. How funny their tragedy had been, how sad their comedy, +Momus only might tell. But to-night some gleaming wave from a greater +sea had lifted them, and borne them on. Still they played, jarringly, +for that was their untutored wont. Their speech roared, loud defiance +to grammar's idle saws, their costumes were absurd remnants of an +antique past; but a certain, rude, and homely dignity had transfigured +them, and enveloped, too, this poor drama which, after all, goes very +deep, down to the springs of life and love. There was a dirty and +wicked abomination of a Fagin. Wilde himself played Sykes, and we of +Tiverton, who know little about the formless monster dwelling under the +garnished pavement of every great city, and rising, once in a century +or so, to send red riot and ruin through the streets,--even we could +read the story of his word and glance. Unconsciously to ourselves, we +guessed at Whitechapel and the East End "tough," and shuddered under +the knowledge of evil. Mrs. Wilde, her heavy face many a shade sincerer +than when she walked in dirty white satin, was Nancy; and in her death, +culminated the grand moment of Tiverton's looking the drama in the +face, and seeing it for what it is,--the living sister of life itself. +Sykes really killed her alarmingly well. Round the stage he dragged +her, bruised and speechless, with such cruel realism that we women +crouched and shivered; and when she staggered to her knees, and told +her pitiful lie for the brute she loved, the general shudder of worship +and horror thrilled us into a mighty reverence for the tie stronger +than death and hell, binding the woman to the man, and lifting Love +triumphant on his cross of pain. With Nancy's final sigh, another swept +through the hall, like breath among the trees, and, drawn by what +thread I know not, I looked about me, and all unwittingly was present +at another great last act. Dana Marden and his wife were in front of +me, not three seats away. Mary was very pale, and sat quite motionless, +looking down into her lap; but Dana bent forward, gripping the seat in +front of him with white and straining hands. His face, drawn and +knotted, was a mirror of such anguish as few of us imagine; we only +learn its power when it steals upon us in the dark, and our souls +wrestle with it for awful mastery. He seemed to be suffering an +extremity of physical pain. After that, I gave little heed to the +stage. I was only conscious that the curtain had gone down, and that +Mr. Wilde was thanking us for our kind attention, and expressing a +flattering hope that another year would find him again in our midst. We +did not want the farce, that night, even as our rightful due. We got +up, and filed out in silence. I was just behind Dana and Mary; so near +that I could have touched him when, half-way, down the hall, he put out +a clumsy hand and drew her shawl closer about her shoulders. Then he +set his face straight forward again, but not before I had noticed how +the lips were twitching still, in that dumb protest against the fetters +of his birth. Again he turned to her, as suddenly as if a blow had +forced his face about. I heard his voice, abrupt, explosive, full of +the harshness so near at hand to wait on agony,-- + +"You got your rubbers on?" + +Mary started a little, and a tremor like that of cold, went over her; +but she kept her head firmly erect. + +"Yes, Dana," she said, clearly, just as she had spoken to him all those +months, "I've got 'em on." + +Before eleven o'clock, the next morning, the news had spread all over +joyful Tiverton. Dana had spoken at last! But Mary! Within a week, she +took to her bed, quite overmastered by a lingering fever. She "came out +all right," as we say among ourselves, though after Dana had suffered +such agonies of tenderness over her as few save mothers can know, or +those who have injured their beloved. But she has never since been +quite so dauntless, quite so full of the joy of life. As Hiram Cole +again remarked, it is a serious thing to draw too heavily on the +nerve-juice. + +THE END. + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Meadow Grass, by Alice Brown + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEADOW GRASS *** + +***** This file should be named 9367-8.txt or 9367-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/3/6/9367/ + +Produced by A. Templeton, J. Sutherland, T. Allen and the +PG Distributed Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Meadow Grass + +Author: Alice Brown + + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9367] +This file was first posted on September 25, 2003] +Last updated: May 23, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEADOW GRASS *** + + + + +Text file produced by A. Templeton, J. Sutherland, T. Allen and the +PG Distributed Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + MEADOW-GRASS + </h1> + <h3> + TALES OF NEW ENGLAND LIFE + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Alice Brown + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + 1895 + </h4> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> TO M.G.R. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> LOVER OF WOODS AND FIELD AND SEA. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> NUMBER FIVE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> FARMER ELI'S VACATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> AFTER ALL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> TOLD IN THE POORHOUSE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> HEMAN'S MA. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> HEARTSEASE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> MIS' WADLEIGH'S GUEST. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> JOINT OWNERS IN SPAIN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> AT SUDLEIGH FAIR. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> BANKRUPT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> NANCY BOYD'S LAST SERMON </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> STROLLERS IN TIVERTON </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO M.G.R. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LOVER OF WOODS AND FIELD AND SEA. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NUMBER FIVE. + </h2> + <p> + We who are Tiverton born, though false ambition may have ridden us to + market, or the world's voice incited us to kindred clamoring, have a way + of shutting our eyes, now and then, to present changes, and seeing things + as they were once, as they are still, in a certain sleepy yet altogether + individual corner of country life. And especially do we delight in one bit + of fine mental tracery, etched carelessly, yet for all time, so far as our + own' short span is concerned, by the unerring stylus of youth: the outline + of a little red schoolhouse, distinguished from the other similar + structures within Tiverton bounds by "District No. V.," painted on a + shingle, in primitive black letters, and nailed aloft over the door. Up to + the very hollow which made its playground and weedy garden, the road was + elm-bordered and lined with fair meadows, skirted in the background by + shadowy pines, so soft they did not even wave; they only seemed to + breathe. The treasures of the road! On either side, the way was plumed and + paved with beauties so rare that now, disheartened dwellers in city + streets, we covetously con over in memory that roaming walk to school and + home again. We know it now for what it was, a daily progress of delight. + We see again the old watering-trough, decayed into the mellow loveliness + of gray lichen and greenest moss. Here beside the ditch whence the water + flowed, grew the pale forget-me-not and sticky star-blossomed cleavers. A + step farther, beyond the nook where the spring bubbled first, were the + riches of the common roadway; and over the gray, lichen-bearded fence, the + growth of stubbly upland pasture. Everywhere, in road and pasture too, + thronged milkweed, odorous haunt of the bee and those frailest butterflies + of the year, born of one family with drifting blossoms; and straightly + tall, the solitary mullein, dust-covered but crowned with a gold softer + and more to be desired than the pride of kings. Perhaps the carriage folk + from the outer world, who sometimes penetrate Tiverton's leafy quiet, may + wonder at the queer little enclosures of sticks and pebbles on many a + bare, tree-shaded slope along the road. "Left there from some game!" they + say to one another, and drive on, satisfied. But these are no mere + discarded playthings, dear ignorant travellers! They are tokens of the + mimic earnest with which child-life is ever seeking to sober itself, and + rushing unsummoned into the workaday fields of an aimlessly frantic world. + They are houses, and the stone boundaries are walls. This tree stump is an + armchair, this board a velvet sofa. Not more truly is "this thorn-bush, my + thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog." + </p> + <p> + Across the road, at easy running distance from the schoolhouse at noontime + or recess, crawled the little river, with its inevitable "hole," which + each mother's son was warned to avoid in swimming, lest he be seized with + cramp there where the pool was bottomless. What eerie wonders lurked + within the mirror of those shallow brown waters! Long black hairs cleaved + and clung in their limpid flowing. To this day, I know not whether they + were horse-hairs, far from home, or swaying willow roots; the boys said + they were "truly" hairs of the kind destined to become snakes in their + last estate; and the girls, listening, shivered with all Mother Eve's + premonitory thrill along the backbone. Wish-bugs, too, were here, skimming + and darting. The peculiarity of a wish-bug is that he will bestow upon you + your heart's desire, if only you hold him in the hand and wish. But the + impossible premise defeats the conclusion. You never do hold him long + enough, simply because you can't catch him in the first place. Yet the + fascinating possibility is like a taste for drink, or the glamour of + cards. Does the committee-man drive past to Sudleigh market, suggesting + the prospect of a leisurely return that afternoon, and consequent dropping + in to hear the geography class? Then do the laziest and most optimistic + boys betake them hastily from their dinner-pails to the river, and spend + their precious nooning in quest of the potent bug, through whose spell the + unwelcome visit may be averted. The time so squandered in riotous gaming + might have, fixed the afternoon's "North Poles and Equators" triumphantly + in mind, to the everlasting defiance of all alien questioning; but no! for + human delight lies ever in the unattainable. The committee-man comes like + Nemesis, <i>aequo pede</i>, the lesson is unlearned, and the stern-fibred + little teacher orders out the rack known as staying after school. But what + durance beyond hours in the indescribably desolate schoolroom ever taught + mortal boy to shun the delusive insect created for his special undoing? So + long as the heart has woes of its own breeding, so long also will it dodge + the discipline of labor, and grasp at the flicker of an easy success. + </p> + <p> + On either side the little bridge (over which horses pounded with an + ominous thunder and a rain of dust on the head of him who lingered beneath + the sleepers, in a fearsome joy), the meadows were pranked with purple + iris and whispering rushes, mingling each its sweetness with the good, + rank smell of mud below. Here were the treasures of the water-course, + close hidden, or blowing in the light of day. The pale, golden-hearted + arrow-head neighbored the homespun pickerel-weed, and—oh, mysterious + glory from an oozy bed!—luscious, sun-golden cow-lilies rose + sturdily triumphant, dripping with color, glowing in sheen. The + button-bush hung out her balls, and white alder painted the air with faint + perfume; willow-herb built her bowery arches, and the flags were ever + glancing like swords of roistering knights. These flags, be it known to + such as have grown up in grievous ignorance of the lore inseparable from + "deestrick school," hold the most practical significance in the mind of + boy and girl; for they bring forth (I know we thought for our delight + alone!) a delicacy known as flag-buds, everlastingly dear to the childish + palate. These were devoured by the wholesale in their season, and little + mouths grew oozy-green as those of happy beasties in June, from much + champing and chewing. Did we lose our appetite for the delectable + dinner-pail through such literal going to pasture? I think not. Tastes + were elastic, in those days; and Nature, so bullied, durst seldom revolt. + </p> + <p> + On one side, the nearest neighbor to the school lived at least a mile + away; but on the other, the first house of all owned treasures manifold + for the little squad who, though the day were wet or dry, fair or + frowning, trotted thither at noon. Here were trees under which lay, in + happy season, over-ripe Bartlett pears; here, too, was one mulberry-tree, + whereof the suggestion was strange and wonderful, and the fruit less + appealing to taste than to a mystical fancy. But outside the bank wall + grew the balm-of-Gileads, in a stately, benevolent row,—trees of + healing, of fragrance and romantic charm. No child ever sought the old + home to beg pears and mulberries, or to fill the school-house pail at its + dark-bosomed well, without bearing away a few of the leaves in a covetous + grasp. Sweet treasure-trove these, to be pressed to fresh young faces, and + held and patted in hot little palms, till they grew flabby but evermore + fragrant, still diffusing over the dusty schoolroom that warm odor, + whispering to those who read no corner but their own New England, of the + myrrh and balsams of the East. + </p> + <p> + We knew everything in those days, we aimless knights-errant with + dinner-pail and slate; the dry, frosty hollow where gentians bloom when + the pride of the field is over, the woody slopes of the hepatica's + awakening, under coverlet of withered leaves, and the sunny banks where + violets love to live with their good gossip, the trembling anemone. At + noon, we roved abroad into solitudes so deep that even our unsuspecting + hearts sometimes quaked with fear of dark and lonesomeness; and then we + came trooping back at the sound of the bell, untamed, happy little + savages, ready to settle, with a long breath, to the afternoon's drowsy + routine. Arrant nonsense that! the boundary of British America and the + conjugation of the verb <i>to be</i>! Who that might loll away the hours + upon a bank in silken ease, needed aught even of computation or the + tongues? He alone had inherited the earth. + </p> + <p> + All the little figures flitting through those tranquil early dramas are so + sharply drawn, so brightly colored still! I meet Melissa Crane sometimes + nowadays, a prosperous matron with space enough on her broad back for the + very largest plaid ever woven; but her present identity is hazy and + unreal. I see instead, with a sudden throb of memory, the little Melissa, + who, one recess, accepted a sugared doughnut from me, and said, with a + quaint imitation of old folks' manner,— + </p> + <p> + "I think your mother will be a real good cook, if she lives!" + </p> + <p> + I hear of Susie Marden, who went out West, married, and grew up with the + country in great magnificence; but to me she is and ever will be the + little girl who made seventy pies, one Thanksgiving time, thereby earning + the somewhat stinted admiration of those among us who could not cook. Many + a great deed, tacitly promised in that springtime, never came to pass; + many a brilliant career ingloriously ended. There was Sam Marshall. He + could do sums to the admiration of class and teacher, and, Cuvier-like, + evolve an entire flock from Colburn's two geese and a half. His memory was + prodigious. He could name the Presidents, bound the States and + Territories, and rattle off the list of prepositions so fast that you + could almost see the spark-shower from his rushing wheels of thought. It + was an understood thing among us, when Sam was in his teens, that he + should at least enter the Senate; perhaps he would even be President, and + scatter offices, like halfpence, among his scampering townsmen. But to-day + he patiently does his haying—by hand! and "goes sleddin'" in the + winter. The Senate is as far from him as the Polar Star, and I question + whether he could even bear the crucial test of two geese and a half. Yet I + still look upon him with a thrill of awe, as the man selected by the + popular vote to represent us in fame's Valhalla, and mysteriously defeated + by some unexpected move of the "unseen hand at a game." + </p> + <p> + There were a couple of boys such good comrades as never to be happy save + when together. They cared only for the games made for two; all their goods + were tacitly held in common, and a tradition still lives that David, when + a new teacher asked his exact age, claimed his comrade's birthday, and + then wondered why everybody laughed. They had a way of wandering off + together to the woods, on Saturday mornings, when the routine of chores + could be hurried through, and always they bore with them a store of eggs, + apples, or sweet corn, to be cooked in happy seclusion. All this raw + material was stolen from the respective haylofts and gardens at home, + though, as the fathers owned, with an appreciative grin, the boys might + have taken it openly for the asking. That, however, would so have alloyed + the charm of gypsying that it was not to be thought of for a moment; and + they crept about on their foraging expeditions with all the caution of a + hostile tribe. Blessed fathers and mothers to wink at the escapade, and + happy boys, wise chiefly in their longing to be free! We had a theory that + Jonathan and David would go into business together. Perhaps we thought of + them in the same country store, their chairs tilted on either side of the + air-tight stove, telling stories, in the intervals of custom, as they + apparently did in their earlier estate. For, shy as they were in general + company, they chatted together with an intense earnestness all day long; + and it was one of the stock questions in our neighborhood, when the social + light burned low,— + </p> + <p> + "What under the sun do you s'pose Dave and Jont find to talk about?" + </p> + <p> + Alas! again the world had builded foolishly; for with early manhood, they + fell in love with the same round-cheeked school-teacher. Jonathan married + her, after what wrench of feeling I know not; and the other fled to the + town, whence he never returned save for the briefest visit at Thanksgiving + or Christmas time. The stay-at-home lad is a warm farmer, and the little + school-teacher a mother whose unlined face shows the record of a placid + life; but David cannot know even this, save by hearsay, for he never sees + them. He is a moneyed man, and not a year ago, gave the town a new + library. But is he happy? Or does the old wound still show a ragged edge? + For that may be, they tell us, even "when you come to forty year." + </p> + <p> + Then, clad in brighter vestments of memory, there was the lad who earned + unto himself much renown, even among his disapproving relatives, by + running away from home, in quest of gold and glory. True, he was brought + back at the end of three days, footsore and muddy, and with noble appetite + for the griddle-cakes his mother cooked him in lieu of the traditional + veal,—but all undaunted. He never tried it again, yet people say he + has thrown away all his chances of a thrifty living by perpetual wandering + in the woods with gun and fishing-rod, and that he is cursed with a + deplorable indifference to the state of his fences and potato-patch. No + one could call him an admirable citizen, but I am not sure that he has + chosen the worser part; for who is so jovial and sympathetic on a winter + evening, when the apples are passed, and even the shining cat purrs + content before the blaze, or in the wood solitudes, familiar to him as his + own house door? + </p> + <p> + "Pa'tridges' nests?" he said, one spring, with a cock of his eye + calculated to show at once a humorous recognition of his genius and his + delinquencies. "Sartain! I wish I was as sure where I keep my scythe + sned!" + </p> + <p> + He has learned all the lore of the woods, the ways of "wild critters," and + the most efficacious means both to woo and kill them. Prim spinsters eye + him acridly, as a man given over to "shif'less" ways, and wives set him + up, like a lurid guidepost, before husbands prone to lapse from domestic + thrift; but the dogs smile at him, and children, for whom he is ever ready + to make kite or dory, though all his hay should mildew, or to string + thimbleberries on a grass spear while supper cools within, tumble merrily + at his heels. Such as he should never assume domestic relations, to be + fettered with requirements of time and place. Let them rather claim + maintenance from a grateful public, and live, like troubadours of old, + ministrant to the general joy. + </p> + <p> + Not all the memories of that early day are quite unspotted by remorse. + Although we wore the mask of jocund faces and straightforward glance, we + little people repeatedly proclaimed ourselves the victims of Adam's fall. + Even then we needed to pray for deliverance from those passions which have + since pursued us. There was the little bound girl who lived with a + "selec'man's" wife, a woman with children of her own, but a hard + taskmistress to the stranger within her gates. Poor little Polly! her + clothes, made over from those of her mistress, were of dark, rough + flannel, often in uncouth plaids and appalling stripes. Her petticoats + were dyed of a sickly hue known as cudbar, and she wore heavy woollen + stockings of the same shade. Polly got up early, to milk and drive the + cows; she set the table, washed milkpans, and ran hither and thither on + her sturdy cudbar legs, always willing, sometimes singing, and often with + a mute, questioning look on her little freckled face, as if she had + already begun to wonder why it has pleased God to set so many boundary + lines over which the feeble may not pass. The selec'man's son—a + heavy-faced, greedy boy—was a bully, and Polly became his butt; she + did his tasks, hectored by him in private, and with a child's strange + reticence, she never told even us how unbearable he made her life. We + could see it, however; for not much remains hidden in that communistic + atmosphere of the country neighborhood. But sometimes Polly revolted; her + temper blazed up, a harmless flash in the pan, and then, it was said, Mis' + Jeremiah took her to the shed-chamber and, trounced her soundly. I myself + have seen her sitting at the little low window, when I trotted by, in the + pride of young life, to "borry some emptin's," or the recipe for a new + cake. Often she waved a timid hand to me; and I am glad to remember a + certain sunny morning, illuminated now because I tossed her up a bright + hollyhock in return. It was little to give out of a full and happy day; + but Polly had nothing. Once she came near great good fortune,—and + missed it! For a lady, who boarded a few weeks in the neighborhood, took a + fancy to Polly, and was stirred to outspoken wrath by our tales of the + severity of her life. She gave her a pretty pink cambric dress, and Polly + wore it on "last day," at the end of the summer term. She was evidently + absorbed in love of it, and sat, smoothing its shiny surface with her + little cracked hand, so oblivious to the requirements of the occasion that + she only looked up dazed when the teacher told her to describe the Amazon + River, and unregretfully let the question pass. The lady meant to take + Polly away with, her, but she fell sick with erysipelas in the face, and + was hurried off to the city to be nursed, "a sight to behold," as + everybody said. And whether she died, or whether she got well and forgot + Polly, none of us ever heard. We only knew she did not return, bringing + the odor of violets and the rustle of starched petticoats into our placid + lives. + </p> + <p> + But all these thoughts of Polly would be less wearing, when they come in + the night-time knocking at the heart, if I could only remember her as + glowing under the sympathy and loving-kindness of her little mates. Alas! + it was not so. We were senseless little brutes, who, never having learned + the taste of misery ourselves, had no pity for the misfortunes of others. + She was, indeed, ill-treated; but what were we, to translate the phrase? + She was an under dog, and we had no mercy on her. We "plagued" her, God + forgive us! And what the word means, in its full horror, only a child can + compass. We laughed at her cudbar petticoats, her little "chopped hands;" + and when she stumbled over the arithmetic lesson, because she had been up + at four o'clock every morning since the first bluebirds came, we laughed + at that. Life in general seems to have treated Polly in somewhat the same + way. I hear that she did not marry well, and that her children had begun + to "turn out bad," when she died, prematurely bent and old, not many weeks + ago. But when I think of what we might have given and what we did + withhold, when I realize that one drop of water from each of us would have + filled her little cup to overflowing, there is one compensating thought, + and I murmur, conscience-smitten, "I'm glad she had the pink dress!" + </p> + <p> + And now the little school is ever present with us, ours still for counsel + or reproof. Its long-closed sessions are open, by day and night; and I + suppose, as time goes on, and we drop into the estate of those who sit by + the fireside, oblivious to present scenes, yet acutely awake to such as + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Flash upon that inward eye + Which is the bliss of solitude," +</pre> + <p> + it will grow more and more lifelike and more near. Beside it, live all the + joys of memory and many a long-past pain. For we who have walked in + country ways, walk in them always, and with no divided love, even though + brick pavements have been our chosen road this many a year. We follow the + market, we buy and sell, and even run across the sea, to fit us with new + armor for the soul, to guard it from the hurts of years; but ever do we + keep the calendar of this one spring of life. Some unheard angelus summons + us to days of feast and mourning; it may be the joy of the fresh-springing + willow, or the nameless pain responsive to the croaking of frogs, in the + month when twilights are misty, and waves of world-sorrow flood in upon + the heart, we know not why. All those trembling half-thoughts of the sleep + of the year and its awakening,—we have not escaped them by leaving + the routine that brought them forth. We know when the first violets are + blowing in the woods, and we paint for ourselves the tasselling of the + alder and the red of maple-buds. We taste still the sting of checkerberry + and woodsy flavor of the fragrant birch. When fields of corn are + shimmering in the sun, we know exactly how it would seem to run through + those dusty aisles, swept by that silken drapery, and counselled in + whispers from the plumy tops so far above our heads. The ground-sparrow's + nest is not strange to us; no, nor the partridge's hidden treasure within + the wood. We can make pudding-bags of live-forever, dolls' bonnets, + "trimmed up to the nines," out of the velvet mullein leaf, and from the + ox-eyed daisies, round, cap-begirt faces, smiling as the sun. All the + homely secrets of rural life are ours: the taste of pie, + cinnamon-flavored, from the dinner-pails at noon; the smell of "pears + a-b'ilin'," at that happiest hour when, in the early dusk, we tumble into + the kitchen, to find the table set and the stove redolent of warmth and + savor. "What you got for supper?" we cry,—question to be paralleled + in the summer days by "What'd you have for dinner?" as, famished little + bears, we rush to the dairy-wheel, to feed ravenously on the cold, + delicious fragments of the meal eaten without us. + </p> + <p> + If time ever stood still, if we were condemned to the blank solitude of + hospital nights or becalmed, mid-ocean days, and had hours for fruitless + dreaming, I wonder what viands we should choose, in setting forth a + banquet from that ambrosial past! Foods unknown to poetry and song: "cold + b'iled dish," pan-dowdy, or rye drop-cakes dripping with butter! For these + do we taste, in moments of retrospect; and perhaps we dwell the more on + their homely savor because we dare not think what hands prepared them for + our use, or, when the board was set, what faces smiled. We are too wise, + with the cunning prudence of the years, to penetrate over-far beyond the + rosy boundary of youth, lest we find also that bitter pool which is not + Lethe, but the waters of a vain regret. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FARMER ELI'S VACATION + </h2> + <p> + "It don't seem as if we'd really got round to it, does it, father?" asked + Mrs. Pike. + </p> + <p> + The west was paling, and the August insects stirred the air with their + crooning chirp. Eli and his wife sat together on the washing-bench outside + the back door, waiting for the milk to cool before it should be strained. + She was a large, comfortable woman, with an unlined face, and smooth, fine + auburn hair; he was spare and somewhat bent, with curly iron-gray locks, + growing thin, and crow's-feet about his deep-set gray eyes. He had been + smoking the pipe of twilight contentment, but now he took it out and laid + it on the bench beside him, uncrossing his legs and straightening himself, + with the air of a man to whom it falls, after long pondering, to take some + decisive step. + </p> + <p> + "No; it don't seem as if 'twas goin' to happen," he owned. "It looked + pretty dark to me, all last week. It's a good deal of an undertakin', come + to think it all over. I dunno's I care about goin'." + </p> + <p> + "Why, father! After you've thought about it so many years, an' Sereno's + got the tents strapped up, an' all! You must be crazy!" + </p> + <p> + "Well," said the farmer, gently, as he rose and went to carry the + milk-pails into the pantry, calling coaxingly, as he did so, "Kitty! + kitty! You had your milk? Don't you joggle, now!" For one eager tabby rose + on her hind legs, in purring haste, and hit her nose against the foaming + saucer. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pike came ponderously to her feet, and followed, with the heavy, + swaying motion of one grown fleshy and rheumatic. She was not in the least + concerned about Eli's change of mood. He was a gentle soul, and she had + always been able to guide him in paths of her own choosing. Moreover, the + present undertaking was one involving his own good fortune, and she meant + to tolerate no foolish scruples which might interfere with its result. For + Eli, though he had lived all his life within easy driving distance of the + ocean, had never seen it, and ever since his boyhood he had cherished one + darling plan,—some day he would go to the shore, and camp out there + for a week. This, in his starved imagination, was like a dream of the + Acropolis to an artist stricken blind, or as mountain outlines to the + dweller in a lonely plain. But the years had flitted past, and the dream + never seemed nearer completion. There were always planting, haying, and + harvesting to be considered; and though he was fairly prosperous, + excursions were foreign to his simple habit of life. But at last, his wife + had stepped into the van, and organized an expedition, with all the valor + of a Francis Drake. + </p> + <p> + "Now, don't you say one word, father," she had said. "We're goin' down to + the beach, Sereno, an' Hattie, an' you an' me, an' we're goin' to camp + out. It'll do us all good." + </p> + <p> + For days before the date of the excursion, Eli had been solemn and + tremulous, as with joy; but now, on the eve of the great event, he shrank + back from it, with an undefined notion that it was like death, and that he + was not prepared. Next morning, however, when they all rose and took their + early breakfast, preparatory to starting at five, he showed no sign of + indecision, and even went about his outdoor tasks with an alacrity + calculated, as his wife approvingly remarked, to "for'ard the v'y'ge." He + had at last begun to see his way clear, and he looked well satisfied when + his daughter Hattie and Sereno, her husband, drove into the yard, in a + wagon cheerfully suggestive of a wandering life. The tents and a small + hair-trunk were stored in the back, and the horse's pail swung below. + </p> + <p> + "Well, father," called Hattie, her rosy face like a flower under the large + shade-hat she had trimmed for the occasion, "guess we're goin' to have a + good day!" + </p> + <p> + He nodded from the window, where he was patiently holding his head high + and undergoing strangulation, while his wife, breathing huskily with haste + and importance, put on his stock. + </p> + <p> + "You come in, Hattie, an' help pack the doughnuts into that lard-pail on + the table," she called. "I guess you'll have to take two pails. They ain't + very big." + </p> + <p> + At length, the two teams were ready, and Eli mounted to his place, where + he looked very slender beside his towering mate. The hired man stood + leaning on the pump, chewing a bit of straw, and the cats rubbed against + his legs, with tails like banners; they were all impressed by a sense of + the unusual. + </p> + <p> + "Well, good-by, Luke," Mrs. Pike called, over her shoulder; and Eli gave + the man a solemn nod, gathered up the reins, and drove out of the yard. + Just outside the gate, he pulled up. + </p> + <p> + "Whoa!" he called, and Luke lounged forward. "Don't you forgit them cats! + Git up, Doll!" And this time, they were gone. + </p> + <p> + For the first ten miles of the way, familiar in being the road to market, + Eli was placidly cheerful. The sense that he was going to do some strange + deed, to step into an unknown country, dropped away from him, and he + chatted, in his intermittent, serious fashion, of the crops and the lay of + the land. + </p> + <p> + "Pretty bad job up along here, ain't it, father?" called Sereno, as they + passed a sterile pasture where two plodding men and a yoke of oxen were + redeeming the soil from its rocky fetters. + </p> + <p> + "There's a good deal o' pastur', in some places, that ain't fit for + nothin' but to hold the world together," returned Eli; and then he was + silent, his eyes fixed on Doll's eloquent ears, his mouth working a + little. For this progress through a less desirable stratum of life caused + him to cast a backward glance over his own smooth, middle-aged road. + </p> + <p> + "We've prospered, 'ain't we, Maria?" he said, at last; and his wife, + unconsciously following his thoughts, in the manner of those who have + lived long together, stroked her black silk <i>visite</i>, and answered, + with a well-satisfied nod: + </p> + <p> + "I guess we 'ain't got no cause to complain." + </p> + <p> + The roadside was parched under an August sun; tansy was dust-covered, and + ferns had grown ragged and gray. The jogging horses left behind their lazy + feet a suffocating cloud. + </p> + <p> + "My land!" cried Mrs. Pike, "if that ain't goldenrod! I do b'lieve it + comes earlier every year, or else the seasons are changin'. See them + elderberries! Ain't they purple! You jest remember that bush, an' when we + go back, we'll fill some pails. I dunno when I've made elderberry wine." + </p> + <p> + Like her husband, she was vaguely excited; she began to feel as if life + would be all holidays. At noon, they stopped under the shadow of an + elm-tree which, from its foothold in a field, completely arched the road; + and there they ate a lunch of pie and doughnuts, while the horses, freed + from their headstalls, placidly munched a generous feed of oats, near by. + Hattie and her mother accepted this picnicking with an air of apologetic + amusement; and when one or two passers-by looked at them, they smiled a + little at vacancy, with the air of wishing it understood that they were by + no means accustomed to such irregularities. + </p> + <p> + "I guess they think we're gypsies," said Hattie, as one carriage rolled + past. + </p> + <p> + "Well, they needn't trouble themselves," returned her mother, rising with + difficulty to brush the crumbs from her capacious lap. "I guess I've got + as good an extension-table to home as any on 'em." + </p> + <p> + But Eli ate sparingly, and with a preoccupied and solemn look. + </p> + <p> + "Land, father!" exclaimed his wife, "you 'ain't eat no more'n a bird! + </p> + <p> + "I guess I'll go over to that well," said he, "an' git a drink o' water. I + drink more'n I eat, if I ain't workin'." But when he came back, carefully + bearing a tin pail brimming with cool, clear water, his face expressed + strong disapprobation, and he smacked his lips scornfully. + </p> + <p> + "Terrible flat water!" he announced. "Tastes as if it come out o' the + cistern." But the others could find no fault with it, and Sereno drained + the pail. + </p> + <p> + "Pretty good, I call it," he said; and Mrs. Pike rejoined,— + </p> + <p> + "You always was pretty particular about water, father." + </p> + <p> + But Eli still shook his head, and ejaculated, "Brackish, brackish!" as he + began to put the bit in Doll's patient mouth. He was thinking, with a + passion of loyalty, of the clear, ice-cold water at home, which had never + been shut out, by a pump, from the purifying airs of heaven, but lay where + the splashing bucket and chain broke, every day, the image of moss and + fern. His throat grew parched and dry with longing. + </p> + <p> + When they were within three miles of the sea, it seemed to them that they + could taste the saltness of the incoming breeze; the road was ankle-deep + in dust; the garden flowers were glaring in their brightness. It was a new + world. And when at last they emerged from the marsh-bordered road upon a + ridge of sand, and turned a sudden corner, Mrs. Pike faced her husband in + triumph. + </p> + <p> + "There, father!" she cried. "There 'tis!" + </p> + <p> + But Eli's eyes were fixed on the dashboard in front of him. He looked + pale. + </p> + <p> + "Why, father," said she, impatiently, "ain't you goin' to look? It's the + sea!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, yes," said Eli, quietly; "byme-by. I'm goin' to put the horses up + fust." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I never!" said Mrs. Pike; and as they drew up on the sandy tract + where Sereno had previously arranged a place for their tents, she added, + almost fretfully, turning to Hattie, "I dunno what's come over your + father. There's the water, an' he won't even cast his eyes at it." + </p> + <p> + But Hattie understood her father, by some intuition of love, though not of + likeness. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you bother him, ma," she said. "He'll make up his mind to it pretty + soon. Here, le's lift out these little things, while they're unharnessin', + and then they can get at the tents." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pike's mind was diverted by the exigencies of labor, and she said no + more; but after the horses had been put up at a neighboring house, and + Sereno, red-faced with exertion, had superintended the tent-raising, + Hattie slipped her arm through her father's, and led him away. + </p> + <p> + "Come, pa," she said, in a whisper; "le's you and me climb over on them + rocks." + </p> + <p> + Eli went; and when they had picked their way over sand and pools to a + headland where the water thundered below, and salt spray dashed up in mist + to their feet, he turned and looked at the sea. He faced it as a soul + might face Almighty Greatness, only to be stricken blind thereafter; for + his eyes filled painfully with slow, hot tears. Hattie did not look at + him, but after a while she shouted in his ear, above the outcry of the + surf,— + </p> + <p> + "Here, pa, take my handkerchief. I don't know how 'tis about you, but this + spray gets in my eyes." + </p> + <p> + Eli took it obediently, but he did not speak; he only looked at the sea. + The two sat there, chilled and quite content, until six o'clock, when Mrs. + Pike came calling to them from the beach, with dramatic shouts, emphasized + by the waving of her ample apron,— + </p> + <p> + "Supper's ready! Sereno's built a bum-fire, an' I've made some tea!" + </p> + <p> + Then they slowly made their way back to the tents, and sat down to the + evening meal. Sereno seemed content, and Mrs. Pike was bustling and + triumphant; the familiar act of preparing food had given her the feeling + of home. + </p> + <p> + "Well, father, what think?" she asked, smiling exuberantly, as she passed + him his mug of tea. "Does it come up to what you expected?" + </p> + <p> + Eli turned upon her his mild, dazed eyes. + </p> + <p> + "I guess it does," he said, gently. + </p> + <p> + That night, they sat upon the shore while the moon rose and laid in the + water her majestic pathway of light. Eli was the last to leave the rocks, + and he lay down on his hard couch in the tent, without speaking. + </p> + <p> + "I wouldn't say much to father," whispered Hattie to her mother, as they + parted for the night. "He feels it more 'n we do." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I s'pose he is some tired," said Mrs. Pike, acquiescing, after a + brief look of surprise. "It's a good deal of a jaunt, but I dunno but I + feel paid a'ready. Should you take out your hair-pins, Hattie?" + </p> + <p> + She slept soundly and vocally, but her husband did not close his eyes. He + looked, though he could see nothing, through the opening in the tent, in + the direction where lay the sea, solemnly clamorous, eternally responsive + to some infinite whisper from without his world. The tension of the hour + was almost more than he could bear; he longed for morning, in sharp + suspense, with a faint hope that the light might bring relief. Just as the + stars faded, and one luminous line pencilled the east, he rose, smoothed + his hair, and stepped softly out upon the beach. There he saw two shadowy + figures, Sereno and Hattie. She hurried forward to meet him. + </p> + <p> + "You goin' to see the sunrise, too, father?" she asked. "I made Sereno + come. He's awful mad at bein' waked up." + </p> + <p> + Eli grasped her arm. + </p> + <p> + "Hattie," he said, in a whisper, "don't you tell. I jest come out to see + how 'twas here, before I go. I'm goin' home,—I'm goin' <i>now</i>." + </p> + <p> + "Why, father!" said Hattie; but she peered more closely into his face, and + her tone changed. "All right," she added, cheerfully. "Sereno'll go and + harness up." + </p> + <p> + "No; I'm goin' to walk." + </p> + <p> + "But, father—" + </p> + <p> + "I don't mean to breakup your stayin' here, nor your mother's. You tell + her how 'twas. I'm goin' to walk." + </p> + <p> + Hattie turned and whispered to her husband for a moment. Then she took her + father's hand. + </p> + <p> + "I'll slip into the tent and put you up somethin' for your breakfast and + luncheon," she said. "Sereno's gone to harness; for, pa, you must take one + horse, and you can send Luke back with it Friday, so's we can get the + things home. What do we want of two horses down here, at two and ninepence + a day? I guess I know!" + </p> + <p> + So Eli yielded; but before his wife appeared, he had turned his back on + the sea, where the rose of dawn was fast unfolding. As he jogged homeward, + the dusty roadsides bloomed with flowers of paradise, and the insects' dry + chirp thrilled like the song of angels. He drove into the yard just at the + turning of the day, when the fragrant smoke of many a crackling fire curls + cheerily upward, in promise of the evening meal. + </p> + <p> + "What's busted?" asked Luke, swinging himself down from his load of + fodder-corn, and beginning to unharness Doll. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, nothin'," said Eli, leaping, from the wagon as if twenty years had + been taken from his bones. "I guess I'm too old for such jaunts. I hope + you didn't forgit them cats." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AFTER ALL. + </h2> + <p> + "The land o' gracious!" said Mrs. Lothrop Wilson, laying down her + "drawing-in hook" on the rug stretched between two chairs in the middle of + the kitchen, and getting up to look from the window. "If there ain't + Lucindy comin' out o' the Pitmans' without a thing on her head, an' all + them little curls a-flyin'! An' the old Judge ain't cold in his grave!" + </p> + <p> + "I guess the Judge won't be troubled with cold, any to speak of, arter + this," said her husband from the window, where he sat eating his forenoon + lunch of apple-pie and cheese. He was a cooper, and perhaps the + pleasantest moment in his day was that when he slipped out of his shop, + leaving a bit of paper tacked on the door to say he was "on errands," and + walked soberly home for his bite and sup. "If he ain't good an' warm about + now, then the Scriptur's ain't no more to be depended on than a last + year's almanac." + </p> + <p> + "Late Wilson, I'm ashamed of you," retorted his wife, looking at him with + such reproof that, albeit she had no flesh to spare, she made herself a + double chin. "An' he your own uncle, too! Well, he <i>was</i> nigh, I'll + say that for him; an' if he'd had his way, the sun'd ha' riz an' set when + he said the word. But Lucindy's his only darter, an' if she don't so much + as pretend to be a mourner, I guess there ain't nobody that will. There! + don't you say no more! She's comin' in here!" + </p> + <p> + A light step sounded on the side piazza, and Lucindy came in, with a + little delicate, swaying motion peculiar to her walk. She was a very + slender woman, far past middle life, with a thin, smiling face, light blue + eyes, shining with an eager brightness, and fine hair, which escaped from + its tight twist in little spiral curls about the face. + </p> + <p> + "How do, Jane?" she said, in an even voice, stirred by a pleasant, reedy + thrill. "How do, Lote?" + </p> + <p> + Lothrop pushed forward a chair, looking at her with an air of great + kindliness. There was some slight resemblance between them, but the + masculine type seemed entirely lacking in that bright alertness so + apparent in her. Mrs. Wilson nodded, and went back to her drawing-in. She + was making a very red rose with a pink middle. + </p> + <p> + "I dunno's I can say I'm surprised to see you, Lucindy," she began, with + the duteous aspect of one forced to speak her disapproval, "for I ketched + you comin' out o' the Pitmans' yard." + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Lucindy, smiling, and plaiting her skirt between her nervous + fingers. "Yes, I went in to see if they'd let me take Old Buckskin a spell + to-morrow." + </p> + <p> + "What under the sun—" began Mrs. Wilson; but her husband looked at + her, and she stopped. He had become so used to constituting himself + Lucindy's champion in the old Judge's day, now just ended, that he kept an + unremitting watch on any one who might threaten her peace. But Lucindy + evidently guessed at the unspoken question. + </p> + <p> + "I should have come here, if I'd expected to drive," she said. "But I + thought maybe your horse wa'n't much used to women, and I kind o' dreaded + to be the first one to try him with a saddle." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Wilson put down her hook again, and leaned back in her chair. She + looked from her husband to Lucindy, without speaking. But Lucindy went on, + with the innocent simplicity of a happy child. + </p> + <p> + "You know I was always possessed to ride horseback," she said, addressing + herself to Lothrop, "and father never would let me. And now he ain't here, + I mean to try it, and see if 'tain't full as nice as I thought." + </p> + <p> + "Lucindy!" burst forth Mrs. Wilson, explosively, "ain't you goin' to pay + no respect to your father's memory?" + </p> + <p> + Lucindy turned to her, smiling still, but with a hint of quizzical + shrewdness about her mouth. + </p> + <p> + "I guess I ain't called on to put myself out," she said, simply, yet not + irreverently. "Father had his way in pretty much everything while he was + alive. I always made up my mind if I should outlive him, I'd have all the + things I wanted then, when young folks want the most. And you know then I + couldn't get 'em." + </p> + <p> + "Well!" said Mrs. Wilson. Her tone spoke volumes of conflicting + commentary. + </p> + <p> + "You got a saddle?" asked Lucindy, turning to her cousin. "I thought I + remembered you had one laid away, up attic. I suppose you'd just as soon + I'd take it?" + </p> + <p> + He was neither shocked nor amused. He had been looking at her very sadly, + as one who read in every word the entire tragedy of a repressed and lonely + life. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, we have, Lucindy," he said, gently, quieting his wife by a motion of + the hand, "but 'tain't what you think. It's a man's saddle. You'd have to + set straddle. + </p> + <p> + "Oh!" said Lucindy, a faint shade of disappointment clouding her face. + "Well, no matter! I guess they've got one down to the Mardens'. Jane, + should you just as soon come round this afternoon, and look over some + bunnit trimmin's with me? I took two kinds of flowers home from Miss + West's, and I can't for my life tell which to have." + </p> + <p> + "Ain't you goin' to wear black?" Mrs. Wilson spoke now in double italics. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no! I don't feel called on to do that. I always liked bright colors, + and I don't know's 'twould be real honest in me to put on mournin' when I + didn't feel it." + </p> + <p> + "'Honor thy father'—" began Jane, in spite of her husband's warning + hand; but Lucindy interrupted her, with some perplexity. + </p> + <p> + "I have, Jane, I have! I honored father all my life, just as much as ever + I could. I done everything he ever told me, little and big! No, though, + there's one thing I never fell in with. I did cheat him once. I don't know + but I'm sorry for that, now it's all past and gone!" + </p> + <p> + Her cousin had been drumming absently on the window-sill, but he looked up + with awakened interest. Mrs. Wilson, too, felt a wholesale curiosity, and + she, at least, saw no reason for curbing it. + </p> + <p> + "What was it, Lucindy?" she asked. "The old hunks!" she repeated to + herself, like an anathema. + </p> + <p> + Lucindy began her confession, with eyes down-dropped and a faltering + voice. + </p> + <p> + "Father wanted I should have my hair done up tight and firm. So I + pretended I done the best I could with it. I told him these curls round my + face and down in my neck was too short, and I couldn't pin 'em up. But + they wa'n't curls, and they wouldn't ha' been short if I hadn't cut 'em. + For every night, and sometimes twice a day, I curled 'em on a pipe-stem." + </p> + <p> + "Ain't them curls nat'ral, Lucindy?" cried Mrs. Wilson. "Have you been + fixin' 'em to blow round your face that way, all these years?" + </p> + <p> + "I begun when I was a little girl," said Lucindy, guiltily. "It did seem + kind o' wrong, but I took real pleasure in it!" + </p> + <p> + Lothrop could bear no more. He wanted to wipe his eyes, but he chose + instead to walk straight out of the room and down to his shop. His wife + could only express a part of her amazement by demanding, in a futile sort + of way,— + </p> + <p> + "Where'd you get the pipe?" + </p> + <p> + "I stole the first one from a hired man we had," said Lucindy, her cheeks + growing pink. "Sometimes I had to use slate-pencils." + </p> + <p> + There was no one else to administer judgment, and Mrs. Wilson felt the + necessity. + </p> + <p> + "Well," she began, "an' you can set there, tellin' that an' smilin'—" + </p> + <p> + "My smilin' don't mean any more'n some other folks' cryin', I guess," said + Lucindy, smiling still more broadly. "I begun that more'n thirty years + ago. I looked into the glass one day, and I see the corners of my mouth + were goin' down. Sharper 'n, vinegar, I was! So I says to myself, 'I can + smile, whether or no. Nobody can't help that!' And I did, and now I guess + I don't know when I do it." + </p> + <p> + "Well!" + </p> + <p> + Lucindy rose suddenly and brushed her lap, as if she dusted away imaginary + cares. + </p> + <p> + "There!" she exclaimed, "I've said more this mornin' than I have for forty + year! Don't you lead me on to talk about what's past and gone! The only + thing is, I mean to have a good time now, what there is left of it. Some + things you can't get back, and some you can. Well, you step round this + afternoon, won't you?" + </p> + <p> + "I dunno's I can. John's goin' to bring Claribel up, to spend the + arternoon an' stay to supper." + </p> + <p> + "Why, dear heart! that needn't make no difference. I should admire to have + her, too. I'll show her some shells and coral I found this mornin', up + attic." + </p> + <p> + Lucindy had almost reached the street when she turned, as with a sudden + resolution, and retraced her steps. + </p> + <p> + "Jane," she called, looking in at the kitchen window. "It's a real bright + day, pretty as any 't ever I see. Don't you worry for fear o' my + disturbin' them that's gone, if I do try to ketch at somethin' pleasant. + If they're wiser now, I guess they'll be glad I had sense enough left to + do it!" + </p> + <p> + That afternoon, Mrs. Wilson, in her best gingham and checked sunbonnet, + took her way along the village street to the old Judge Wilson house. It + was a colonial mansion, sitting austerely back in a square yard. In spite + of its prosperity, everything about it wore a dreary air, as if it were + tired of being too well kept; for houses are like people, and carry their + own indefinable atmosphere with them. Mrs. Wilson herself lived on a + narrower and more secluded street, though it was said that her husband, if + he had not defied the old Judge in some crucial matter, might have studied + law with him, and possibly shared his speculations in wool. Then he, too, + might have risen to be one of the first men in the county, instead of + working, in his moderate fashion, for little more than day's wages. + Claribel, a pale, dark-eyed child, also dressed in her best gingham, + walked seriously by her grandmother's side. Lucindy was waiting for them + at the door. + </p> + <p> + "I declare!" she called, delightedly. "I was 'most afraid you'd forgot to + come! Well, Claribel, if you 'ain't grown! They'll have to put a brick on + your head, or you'll be taller'n grandma." + </p> + <p> + Claribel submitted to be kissed, and they entered the large, cool + sitting-room, where they took off their things. + </p> + <p> + "You make yourself at home, Jane," said Lucindy, fluttering about, in + pleasant excitement. "I ain't goin' to pay you a mite of attention till I + see Claribel fixed. Now, Claribel, remember! you can go anywheres you're a + mind to. And you can touch anything there is. You won't find a thing a + little girl can hurt. Here, you come here where I be, and look across the + entry. See that big lamp on the table? Well, if you unhook them danglin' + things and peek through 'em, you'll find the brightest colors! My, how + pretty they be! I've been lookin' through 'em this mornin'. I used to + creep in and do it when I was little," she continued, in an aside to Mrs. + Wilson. "Once I lost one." A strange look settled on her face; she was + recalling a bitter experience. "There!" she said, releasing Claribel with + a little hug, "now run along! If you look on the lower shelf of the + what-not, you'll see some shells and coral I put there for just such a + little girl." + </p> + <p> + Claribel walked soberly away to her playing. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you hurt nothin'!" called Mrs. Wilson; and Claribel responded + properly,— + </p> + <p> + "No, 'm." + </p> + <p> + "There!" said Lucindy, watching the precise little back across the hall, + "Now le's talk a mite about vanity. You reach me that green box behind + your chair. Here's the best flowers Miss West had for what I wanted. + Here's my bunnit, too. You see what you think." + </p> + <p> + She set the untrimmed bonnet on her curls, and laid first a bunch of + bright chrysanthemums against it, and then some strange lavender roses. + The roses turned her complexion to an ivory whiteness, and her anxious, + intent expression combined strangely with that undesirable effect. + </p> + <p> + "My soul, Lucindy!" cried Mrs. Wilson, startled into a more robust + frankness than usual, "you do look like the Old Nick!" + </p> + <p> + A shade came over Miss Lucindy's honest face. It seemed, for a moment, as + if she were going to cry. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you like 'em, Jane?" she asked, appealingly. "Won't neither of 'em + do?" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Wilson was not incapable of compunction, but she felt also the + demands of the family honor. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Lucindy," she began, soothingly, "now 'tain't any use, is it, for + us to say we ain't gettin' on in years? We be! You 're my age, an'—Why, + look at Claribel in there! What should you say, if you see me settin' out + to meetin' with red flowers on my bunnit? I should be nothin' but a + laughin'-stock!" + </p> + <p> + Lucindy laid the flowers back in their box, with as much tenderness as if + they held the living fragrance of a dream. + </p> + <p> + "Well!" she said, wistfully. Then she tried to smile. + </p> + <p> + "Here!" interposed Mrs. Wilson, not over-pleased with the part she felt + called upon to play, "you give me your bunnit. Don't I see your old sheaf + o'wheat in the box? Let me pin it on for you. There, now, don't that look + more suitable?" + </p> + <p> + By the time she had laid it on, in conventional flatness, and held it up + for inspection, every trace of rebellion had apparently been banished from + Lucindy's mind. + </p> + <p> + "Here," said the victim of social rigor, "you hand me the box, and I'll + set it away." + </p> + <p> + They had a cosey, old-fashioned chat, touching upon nothing in the least + revolutionary, and Mrs. Wilson was glad to think Lucindy had forgotten all + about the side-saddle. This last incident of the bonnet, she reflected, + showed how much real influence she had over Lucindy. She must take care to + exert it kindly but seriously now that the old Judge was gone. + </p> + <p> + "You goin' to keep your same help?" she asked, continuing the + conversation. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, yes! I wouldn't part with Ann Toby for a good deal. She's goin' to + have her younger sister come to live with us now. We shall be a passel o' + women, sha'n't we?" + </p> + <p> + "I guess it's well for you Ann Toby's what she is, or she'd cheat you out + o' your eye-teeth!" + </p> + <p> + "Well," answered Lucindy, easily, "I ain't goin' to worry about my + eye-teeth. If I be cheated out of 'em, I guess I can get a new set." + </p> + <p> + At five o'clock, they had some cookies, ostensibly for Claribel, since + Mrs. Wilson could not stay to tea; and then, when the little maid had + taken hers out to the front steps, Lucindy broached a daring plan, that + moment conceived. + </p> + <p> + "Say, Jane," she whispered, with great pretence of secrecy, "what do you + think just come into my head? Do you s'pose Mattie would be put out, if I + should give Claribel a hat?" + </p> + <p> + "Mercy sakes, no! all in the family so! But what set you out on that? + She's got a good last year's one now, an' the ribbin's all pressed out an' + turned, complete." + </p> + <p> + "I'll tell you," Said Lucindy, leaning nearer, and speaking as if she + feared the very corners might hear. "You know I never was allowed to wear + bright colors. And to this day, I see the hats the other girls had, blue + on 'em, and pink. And if I could stand by and let a little girl pick out a + hat for herself, without a word said to stop her, 'twould be real + agreeable to me." Lucindy was shrewd enough to express herself somewhat + moderately. She knew by experience how plainly Jane considered it a duty + to discourage any overmastering emotion. But Jane Wilson was, at the same + instant, feeling very keenly that Lucindy, faded and old as she was, + needed to be indulged in all her riotous fancies. She repressed the + temptation, however, at its birth. + </p> + <p> + "Why, I dunno's there's anything in the way of it," she said, soberly. + </p> + <p> + "Then, if you must go, I'll walk right along now. Claribel and I'll go + down to Miss West's, and see what she's got. Nothin''s to be gained by + waitin'!" + </p> + <p> + When they walked out through the hall together, Lucindy cast a quick and + eager glance into the parlor. She almost hoped Claribel had unhooked the + glass prisms from the lamp, and left them scattered on the floor, or that + she had broken the precious shells, more than half a century old. She + wanted to put her arms round her, and say fondly, "Never mind!" But the + room was in perfect order, and little Claribel waited for them, conscious + of a propriety unstained by guilt. + </p> + <p> + "Lucindy," said Mrs. Wilson, who also had used her eyes, "where's your + father's canes? They al'ays stood right here in this corner." + </p> + <p> + Lucindy flushed. + </p> + <p> + "Jane," she whispered, "don't you tell, but I—I buried 'em! I felt + somehow as if I couldn't—do the things I wanted to, if they set + there just the same." + </p> + <p> + Jane could only look at her in silence. + </p> + <p> + "Well," she said, at length, "it takes all kinds o' people to make a + world!" + </p> + <p> + That, at least, was non-committal. + </p> + <p> + She left the shoppers at her own gate, and they walked on together. + Lucindy was the more excited of the two. + </p> + <p> + "Now, Claribel," she was saying, "you remember you can choose any hat you + see, and have it trimmed just the way you like. What color do you set by + most?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know," said Claribel. "Blue, I guess." + </p> + <p> + "Well, there's a hat there all trimmed with it. I see it this mornin'. + Real bright, pretty blue! I believe there was some little noddin' yellow + flowers on it, too. But mind you don't take it unless you like it." + </p> + <p> + Miss West's shop occupied the front room of her house, a small yellow one + on a side street. The upper part of the door was of glass, and it rang a + bell as it opened. Lucindy had had very few occasions for going there, and + she entered with some importance. The bell clanged; and Miss West, a + portly woman, came in from the back room, whisking off her apron in haste. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, that you, Miss Lucindy?" she called. "I've just been fryin' some riz + doughnuts. Well, how'd the flowers suit?" + </p> + <p> + "I haven't quite made up my mind," said Lucindy, trying to speak with the + dignity befitting her quest. "I just come in with little Claribel here. + She's goin' to have a new hat, and her grandma said she might come down + with me to pick it out. You've got some all trimmed, I believe?" + </p> + <p> + Miss West opened a drawer in an old-fashioned bureau. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," she said, "I've got two my niece trimmed for me before she went to + make her visit to Sudleigh. One's blue. I guess you've seen that. Then + there's a nice white one. The 'Weekly' says white's all the go, this + year." + </p> + <p> + She took out two little hats, and balanced them on either hand. The blue + one was strongly accented. The ribbon was very broad and very bright, and + its nodding cowslips gleamed in cheerful yellow. + </p> + <p> + "Ain't that a beauty?" whispered Lucindy close to the little girl's ear. + "But there! Don't you have it unless you'd rather. There's lots of other + colors, you know; pink, and all sorts.". + </p> + <p> + Claribel put out one little brown hand, and timidly touched the other hat. + </p> + <p> + "This one," she said. + </p> + <p> + It was very plain, and very pretty; yet there were no flowers, and the + modest white ribbon lay smoothly about the crown. Miss Lucindy gave a + little cry, as if some one had hurt her. + </p> + <p> + "O!" she exclaimed, "O Claribel! you sure?" Claribel was sure. + </p> + <p> + "She's got real good taste," put in Miss West. "Shall I wrop it up?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," answered Lucindy, drearily. "We'll take it. But I suppose if she + should change, her mind before she wore it—" she added, with some + slight accession of hope. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, yes, bring it right back. I'll give her another choice." + </p> + <p> + But Claribel was not likely to change her mind. On the way home, she + walked sedately, and carried her hat with the utmost care. At her + grandmother's gate, she looked up shyly, and spoke of her own accord,— + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, ever so much!" + </p> + <p> + Then she fled up the path, her bundle waving before her. That, at least, + looked like spontaneous joy, and the sight of it soothed Lucindy into a + temporary resignation; yet she was very much disappointed. + </p> + <p> + The next afternoon, Tiverton saw a strange and wondrous sight. The Crane + boy led Old Buckskin, under an ancient saddle, into Miss Lucindy's yard, + and waited there before her door. The Crane boy had told all his mates, + and they had told their fathers and mothers, so that a wild excitement + flew through the village like stubble fire, stirring the inhabitants to + futile action. "It's like the 'clipse," said one of the squad of children + collected at the gate, "only they ain't no smoked glass." Some of the + grown people "made an errand" for the sake of being in the street, but + those who lived near-by simply mounted guard at their doors and windows. + The horse had not waited long when Miss Lucindy appeared before the gaze + of an eager world. Her face had wakened into a keen excitement. + </p> + <p> + "Here!" she called to the Crane boy's brother, who was lingering in the + background grinding his toes on the gravel and then lifting them in sudden + agony, "you take this kitchen chair and set it down side of him, so't I + can climb up." + </p> + <p> + The chair was placed, and Miss Lucindy essayed to climb, but vainly. + </p> + <p> + "Ann!" she called, "you bring me that little cricket." + </p> + <p> + Ann Toby appeared unwillingly, the little cricket in her hand. She was a + tall, red-haired woman, who bore the reputation of being willing to be + "tore into inch pieces" for Miss Lucindy. Her freckled face burned red + with shame and anger. + </p> + <p> + "For Heaven's sake, you come back into the house!" she whispered, with + tragic meaning. "You jest give it up, an' I'll scatter them boys. Sassy + little peeps! what are they starin' round here for, I'd like to know!" + </p> + <p> + But Lucindy had mounted the cricket with much agility, and seated herself + on the horse's back. Once she slipped off; but the Crane boy had the + address to mutter, "Put your leg over the horn!" and, owing to that timely + advice, she remained. But he was to experience the gratitude of an + unfeeling world; for Ann Toby, in the irritation of one tried beyond + endurance, fell upon him and cuffed him soundly. And Mrs. Crane, passing + the gate at that moment, did not blame her. + </p> + <p> + "My! it seems a proper high place to set," remarked Lucindy, adjusting + herself. "Well, I guess I sha'n't come to no harm. I'll ride round to your + place, boys, when I get through, and leave the horse there." She trotted + out of the yard amid the silence of the crowd. + </p> + <p> + The spectacle was too awesome to be funny, even to the boys; it seemed to + Tiverton strangely like the work of madness. Only one little boy recovered + himself sufficiently to ran after her and hold up a switch he had been + peeling. + </p> + <p> + "Here!" he piped up, daringly, "you want a whip." + </p> + <p> + Lucindy smiled upon him benignly. + </p> + <p> + "I never did believe in abusin' dumb creatur's," she said, "but I'm much + obliged." She took the switch and rode on. + </p> + <p> + Now Mrs. Wilson had heard the rumor too late to admit of any interference + on her part, and she was staying indoors, suffering an agony of shame, + determined not to countenance the scandalous sight by her presence. But as + she sat "hooking-in," the window was darkened, and involuntarily she + lifted her eyes. There was the huge bulk of a horse, and there was + Lucindy. The horsewoman's cheeks were bright red with exercise and joy. + She wore a black dress and black mitts. Her little curls were flying; and + oh, most unbearable of all! they were surmounted by a bonnet bearing no + modest sheaf of wheat, but blossoming brazenly out into lavender roses. + The spectacle was too much for Mrs. Wilson. She dropped her hook, and flew + to the door. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I've known a good deal, fust an' last, but I never see the beat o' + this! Lucindy, where'd you git that long dress?" + </p> + <p> + "It's my cashmere," answered Lucindy, joyously. "I set up last night to + lengthen it down." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I should think you did! Lothrop!" + </p> + <p> + Her husband had been taking a nap in the sitting-room, and he came out, + rubbing his eyes. Mrs. Wilson could not speak for curiosity. She watched + him with angry intentness. She wondered if he would take Lucindy's part + now! But Lothrop only moved forward and felt at the girth. + </p> + <p> + "You know you want to pull him up if he stumbles," he said; "but I guess + he won't. He was a stiddy horse, fifteen year ago." + </p> + <p> + "Lothrop," began his wife, "do you want to be made a laughin'-stock in + this town—" + </p> + <p> + "I guess if I've lived in a place over sixty year an' hil' my own, I can + yet," said Lothrop, quietly. "You don't want to ride too long, Lucindy. + You'll be lame to-morrer." + </p> + <p> + "I didn't suppose 'twould jounce so," said Lucindy; "but it's proper nice. + I don't know what 'twould be on a real high horse. Well, good-by!" She + turned the horse about, and involuntarily struck him with her little + switch. Old Buckskin broke into a really creditable trot, and they + disappeared down the village street. Lothrop sensibly took his way down to + the shop while his wife was recovering her powers of speech; and for that, + Jane herself mentally commended him. + </p> + <p> + Lucindy kept on out of the village and along the country road. The orioles + were singing in the elms, and the leaves still wore the gloss of last + night's shower. The earth smiled like a new creation, very green and + sweet, and the horse's hoofs made music in Lucindy's mind. It seemed to + her that she had lost sight both of youth and crabbed age; the pendulum + stood still in the jarring machinery of time, the hands pointing to a + moment of joy. She was quite happy, as any of us may be who seek the + fellowship of dancing leaves and strong, bright sun. She turned into a + cross-road, hardly wider than a lane, and bordered with wild rose and + fragrant raspberry. There was but one house here,—a little, + time-stained cottage, where Tom McNeil lived with his wife and five + children. Perhaps these were the happiest people in all Tiverton, though + no one but themselves had ever found it out. Tom made shoes in a desultory + fashion, and played the fiddle earnestly all winter, and in summer, + peddled essences and medicines from a pack strapped over his shoulders. + Sometimes in the warm summer weather Molly, his wife, and all the children + tramped with him, so that the house was closed for weeks at a time,—a + thing very trying to the conventional sensibilities of Tiverton. Tom might + have had a "stiddy job o' work" with some of the farmers; Molly might have + helped about the churning and ironing. But no! they were like the birds, + nesting happily in summer, and drawing their feet under their feathers + when the snow drifted in. The children—lank, wild-eyed creatures—each + went to school a few months, and then stopped, unable to bear the cross of + confinement within four dull walls. They could not write; it was even + rumored that they had never learned to tell time. And, indeed, what good + would it have done them when the clock was run down and stood always at + the hour of noon? But they knew where thoroughwort grows, and the + wholesome goldthread; they gathered cress and peppermint, and could tell + the mushroom from its noisome kindred. Day after day, they roamed the + woods for simples to be distilled by the father, and made into potent + salves and ointments for man and the beasties he loved better. + </p> + <p> + When Lucindy came in sight of the house, she was glad to find it open. She + had scarcely gone so far afield for years, and the reports concerning this + strange people had reached her only by hearsay. She felt like a + discoverer. In close neighborhood to the house stood a peculiar structure,—the + half-finished dwelling McNeil had attempted, in a brief access of + ambition, to build with his own hands. The chimney, slightly curving and + very ragged at the top, stood foolishly above the unfinished lower story. + Lucindy remembered hearing how Tom had begun the chimney first, and built + the house round it. But the fulfilment of his worldly dream never came to + pass; and perhaps it was quite as well, for thereby would the unity of his + existence have been destroyed. He might have lived up to the house; he + might even have grown into a proud man, and accumulated dollars. But the + bent of birth was too much for him. A day dawned, warm and entrancing; he + left his bricks and boards in the midst, and the whole family went + joyfully off on a tramp. To Tiverton, the unfinished house continued to + serve as an immortal joke, and Tom smiled as broadly as any. He always + said he couldn't finish it; he had mislaid the plan. + </p> + <p> + A little flower-garden bloomed between the two houses, and on the grass, + by one of its clove-pink borders, sat a woman, rocking back and forth in + an ancient chair, and doing absolutely nothing. She was young, and seemed + all brown; for her eyes were dark, and her skin had been tanned to the + deep, rich tint sweeter to some eyes than pure roses and milk. Lucindy + guided Buckskin up to the gate, and Molly McNeil looked up and smiled + without moving. + </p> + <p> + "How do?" she said, in a soft, slow voice. "Won't you come in?" + </p> + <p> + Lucindy was delighted. It was long since she had met a stranger. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I would," she answered, "but I don't know as I can get down. This + is new business to me." + </p> + <p> + "Ellen," called Mrs. McNeil, "you bring out somethin' to step on!" + </p> + <p> + A little girl appeared with a yellow kitchen chair. Mrs. McNeil rose, + carried it outside the gate, and planted it by Buckskin's side. + </p> + <p> + "There!" she said, "you put your hand on my shoulder and step down. It + won't tip. I've got my knee on it." + </p> + <p> + Lucindy alighted, with some difficulty, and drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + "I'll hitch him," said Molly McNeil. "You go in and sit down in that + chair, and Ellen'll bring you a drink of water." + </p> + <p> + Ellen was barelegged and barefooted. Her brown hair hung over her dark + eyes in a pleasant tangle. Her even teeth were white, and her lips red. + There was no fault nor blemish in her little face; and when she had + brought the dipper full of water, and stood rubbing one foot against its + neighboring leg, Lucindy thought she had never seen anything so absolutely + bewitching. Molly had hitched the horse, in manly and knowing fashion, and + then seated herself on the kitchen chair beside Lucindy; but the attitude + seemed not to suit her, and presently she rose and lay quietly down at + full length on the grass. She did it quite as a matter of course, and her + visitor thought it looked very pleasant; possibly she would have tried it + herself if she had not been so absorbed in another interest. She was + watching the little girl, who was running into the house with the dipper. + </p> + <p> + "Ain't she complete!" she said. "Your oldest?" + </p> + <p> + "She ain't mine at 'all." Mrs. McNeil rose on one elbow, and began chewing + a grass stem. + </p> + <p> + It was very restful to Lucindy to see some one who was too much interested + in anything, however trivial, to be interested in her. "You know about the + Italian that come round with the hand-organ last month? He was her father. + Well, he died,—fell off a mow one night,—and the town sold the + hand-organ and kept Ellen awhile on the farm. But she run away, and my + boys found her hidin' in the woods starved most to death. So I took her + in, and the overseer said I was welcome to her. She's a nice little soul." + </p> + <p> + "She's proper good-lookin'!" Lucindy's eyes were sparkling. + </p> + <p> + "She don't look as well as common to-day, for the boys went off plummin' + without her. She was asleep, and I didn't want to call her. She had a + cryin' spell when she waked up, but I didn't know which way they'd gone." + </p> + <p> + Ellen came wandering round the side of the house, and Lucindy crooked a + trembling finger at her. + </p> + <p> + "Come here!" she called. "You come here and see me!" + </p> + <p> + Ellen walked up to her with a steady step, and laid one little brown hand + on Lucindy's knee. But the old Judge's daughter drew the child covetously + to her lap. + </p> + <p> + "Look here," she said, "should you like to go home and spend a week with + me?" + </p> + <p> + The little maid threw back her tangle of curls, and looked Lucindy + squarely in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," she answered. + </p> + <p> + Lucindy's grasp tightened round her. + </p> + <p> + "How should you like to live with me?" + </p> + <p> + The child touched her little breast inquiringly with one finger. + </p> + <p> + "Me?" She pointed over to Mrs. McNeil, who lay listening and stretching + her limbs in lazy comfort. "Leave <i>her</i>?" And then, gravely, "No; + she's good to me." + </p> + <p> + Lucindy's heart sank. + </p> + <p> + "You could come over to see her," she pleaded, "and I'd come too. We'd all + go plummin' together. I should admire to! And we'd have parties, and ask + 'em all over. What say?" + </p> + <p> + The child sat straight and serious, one warm hand clinging to Lucindy's + slender palm. But her eyes still sought the face of her older friend. + Molly McNeil rose to a sitting posture. She took the straw from her mouth, + and spoke with the happy frankness of those who have no fear because they + demand nothing save earth and sky room. + </p> + <p> + "I know who you are," she said to Lucindy. "You're left well off, and I + guess you could bring up a child, give you your way. We're as poor as + poverty! You take her, if she'll go. Ellen, she's a nice lady; you better + say 'yes.'" + </p> + <p> + Lucindy was trembling all over. + </p> + <p> + "You come, dear," she urged, piteously. "You come and live with me." + </p> + <p> + Ellen thought a moment more. Then she nodded. + </p> + <p> + "I'll come," said she. + </p> + <p> + Lucindy could not wait. + </p> + <p> + "I'll send a wagon over after her to-night." She had put Ellen down, and + was rising tremblingly. "I won't stop to talk no more now, but you come + and see me, won't you? Now, if you'll help me mount up—there! My! + it's higher 'n 'twas before! Well, I'll see you again." She turned Old + Buckskin's head away from the fence; then she pulled him fiercely round + again. "Here!" she called, "what if she should jump up behind me and come + now!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. McNeil, being the thrall only of the earth, saw no reason, why a + thing should not be done as one wanted it. She lifted; the child and set + her on the horse behind Lucindy. And so, in this strange fashion, the two + entered the high street of Tiverton. + </p> + <p> + A few weeks after this, Mrs. Wilson and Lucindy went together to the + little millinery shop. Ellen trotted between them, taking excursions into + the street, now and again, in pursuit of butterflies or thistledown. When + they entered, Miss West, who had seen their approach from her position at + the ironing-board, came forward with a gay little hat in her hand. It was + trimmed with pink, and a wreath of tiny white flowers clung about the + crown. She set it on Ellen's curls; and Ellen, her face quite radiant, + looked up at Miss Lucindy for approval. But that lady was gazing anxiously + at Mrs. Wilson. + </p> + <p> + "Now, there ain't anything unsuitable about that, is there?" she asked. "I + know, it's gay, and I want it to be gay. I can tell about <i>that</i>! But + is it all right? Is it such as you'd be willin' to have Claribel wear?" + </p> + <p> + "It's a real beauty!" Mrs. Wilson answered, cordially; but she could not + refrain from adding, while Miss West was doing up the hat, and Ellen + surreptitiously tried on a black poke bonnet, "Now, don't you spile her, + Lucindy! She's a nice little girl as ever was, but you ain't no more fit + to bring up a child than the cat!" + </p> + <p> + Lucindy did not hear. She was smiling at Ellen, and Ellen smiled back at + her. They thought they knew. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TOLD IN THE POORHOUSE. + </h2> + <p> + "Le' me see," said old Sally Flint, "was it fifty year ago, or was it on'y + forty? Some'er's betwixt 1825 an' '26 it must ha' been when they were + married, an' 'twas in '41 he died." + </p> + <p> + The other old women in the Poorhouse sitting-room gathered about her. Old + Mrs. Forbes, who dearly loved a story, unwound a length of yarn with + peculiar satisfaction, and put her worn shoe up to the fire. Everybody + knew when Sally Flint was disposed to open her unwritten book of + folk-tales for the public entertainment; and to-day, having tied on a + fresh apron and bound a new piece of red flannel about her wrist, she was, + so to speak, in fighting trim. The other members of the Poorhouse had + scanty faith in that red flannel. They were aware that Sally had broken + her wrist, some twenty years before, and that the bandage was consequently + donned on days when her "hand felt kind o' cold," or was "burnin' like + fire embers;" but there was an unspoken suspicion that it really served as + token of her inability to work whenever she felt bored by the prescribed + routine of knitting and sweeping. No one had dared presume on that theory, + however, since the day when an untactful overseer had mentioned it, to be + met by such a stream of unpleasant reminiscence concerning his immediate + ancestry that he had retreated in dismay, and for a week after, had served + extra pieces of pie to his justly offended charge. + </p> + <p> + "They were married in June," continued Sally. "No, 'twa'n't; 'twas the + last o' May. May thirty-fust—no, May 'ain't but thirty days, has + it?" + </p> + <p> + "'Thirty days hath September,'" quoted Mrs. Giles, with importance. + "That's about all I've got left o' my schoolin', Miss Flint. May's got + thirty-one days, sure enough." + </p> + <p> + "Call it the thirty-fust, then. It's nigh enough, anyway. Well, Josh + Marden an' Lyddy Ann Crane was married, an' for nine year they lived like + two kittens. Old Sperry Dyer, that wanted to git Lyddy himself, used to + call 'em cup an' sasser, 'There they be,' he'd say, when he stood outside + the meetin'-house door an' they drove up; 'there comes cup an' sasser.' + Lyddy was a little mite of a thing, with great black eyes; an' if Josh + hadn't been as tough as tripe, he'd ha' got all wore out waitin' on her. + He even washed the potaters for her, made the fires, an' lugged water. + Scairt to death if she was sick! She used to have sick headaches, an' one + day he stopped choppin' pine limbs near the house 'cause the noise hurt + Lyddy Ann's head. Another time, I recollect, she had erysipelas in her + face, an' I went in to carry some elder-blows, an' found him readin' the + Bible. 'Lord!' says I, 'Josh; that's on'y Genesis! 'twon't do the + erysipelas a mite o' good for you to be settin' there reading the be'gats! + You better turn to Revelation.' But 'twa'n't all on his side, nuther. + 'Twas give an' take with them. It used to seem as if Lyddy Ann kind o' + worshipped him. 'Josh' we all called him; but she used to say 'Joshuay,' + an' look at him as if he was the Lord A'mighty." + </p> + <p> + "My! Sally!" said timid Mrs. Spenser, under her breath; but Sally gave no + heed, and swept on in the stream of her recollections. + </p> + <p> + "Well, it went on for fifteen year, an' then 'Mandy Knowles, Josh's second + cousin, come to help 'em with the work. 'Mandy was a queer creatur'. I've + studied a good deal over her, an' I dunno's I've quite got to the bottom + of her yit. She was one o' them sort o' slow women, with a fat face, an' + she hadn't got over dressin' young, though Lyddy an' the rest of us that + was over thirty was wearin' caps an' talkin' about false fronts. But she + never'd had no beaux; an' when Josh begun to praise her an' say how nice + 'twas to have her there, it tickled her e'en a'most to death. She'd lived + alone with her mother an' two old-maid aunts, an' she didn't know nothin' + about men-folks; I al'ays thought she felt they was different somehow,—kind + o' cherubim an' seraphim,—an' you'd got to mind 'em as if you was + the Childern of Isr'el an' they was Moses. Josh never meant a mite o' + harm, I'll say that for him. He was jest man-like, that's all. There's + lots o' different kinds,—here, Mis' Niles, you know; you've buried + your third,—an' Josh was the kind that can't see more'n, one woman + to a time. He looked at 'Mandy, an' he got over seein' Lyddy Ann, that's + all. Things would ha' come out all right—as right as they be for + most married folks—if Lyddy Ann hadn't been so high-sperited; but + she set the world by Joshuay, an' there 'twas. 'Ain't it nice to have her + here?' he kep' on sayin' over'n' over to Lyddy, an' she'd say 'Yes;' but + byme-by, when she found he was al'ays on hand to bring a pail o' water for + 'Mandy, or to throw away her suds, or even help hang out the clo'es—I + see 'em hangin' out clo'es one day when I was goin' across their lot + huckleberr'in', an' he did look like a great gump, an' so did she—well, + then, Lyddy Ann got to seemin' kind o' worried, an' she had more sick + headaches than ever. Twa'n't a year afore that, I'd been in one day when + she had a headache, an' he says, as if he was perfessin' his faith in + meetin', 'By gum! I wish I could have them headaches for her!' an' I + thought o' speakin' of it, about now, when I run in to borrer some + saleratus, an' he hollered into the bedroom: 'Lyddy Ann, you got another + headache? If I had such a head as that, I'd cut it off!' An' all the time + 'Mandy did act like the very Old Nick, jest as any old maid would that + hadn't set her mind on menfolks till she was thirty-five. She bought a + red-plaid bow an' pinned it on in front, an' one day I ketched her at the + lookin'-glass pullin' out a gray hair. + </p> + <p> + "'Land, 'Mandy,' says I (I spoke right up), 'do you pull 'em out as fast + as they come? That's why you ain't no grayer, I s'pose. I was sayin' the + other day, "'Mandy Knowles is gittin' on, but she holds her own pretty + well. I dunno how she manages it, whether she dyes or not,"' says I. + </p> + <p> + "An' afore she could stop herself, 'Mandy turned round, red as a beet, to + look at Josh an' see if he heard. He stamped out into the wood-house, but + Lyddy Ann never took her eyes off her work. Them little spiteful things + didn't seem to make no impression on her. I've thought a good many times + sence, she didn't care how handsome other women was, nor how scrawny she + was herself, if she could on'y keep Josh. An' Josh he got kind o' fretful + to her, an' she to him, an' 'Mandy was all honey an' cream. Nothin' would + do but she must learn how to make the gingerbread he liked, an' iron his + shirts; an' when Lyddy Ann found he seemed to praise things up jest as + much as he had when she done 'em, she give 'em up, an' done the hard + things herself, an' let 'Mandy see to Josh. She looked pretty pindlin' + then, mark my words; but I never see two such eyes in anybody's head. I + s'pose 'twas a change for Josh, anyway, to be with a woman like 'Mandy, + that never said her soul's her own, for Lyddy'd al'ays had a quick way + with her; but, land! you can't tell about men, what changes 'em or what + don't. If you're tied to one, you've jest got to bear with him, an' be + thankful if he don't run some kind of a rig an' make you town-talk." + </p> + <p> + There was a murmur from gentle Lucy Staples, who had been constant for + fifty years to the lover who died in her youth; but no one took any notice + of her, and Sally Flint went on: + </p> + <p> + "It come spring, an' somehow or nuther 'Mandy found out the last o' March + was Josh's birthday, an' nothin' would do but she must make him a present. + So she walked over to Sudleigh, an' bought him a great long pocket-book + that you could put your bills into without foldin' 'em, an' brought it + home, tickled to death because she'd been so smart. Some o' this come out + at the time, an' some wa'n't known till arterwards; the hired man told + some, an' a good deal the neighbors see themselves. An' I'll be whipped if + 'Mandy herself didn't tell the heft on't arter 'twas all over. She wa'n't + more'n half baked in a good many things. It got round somehow that the + pocket-book was comin', an' when, I see 'Mandy walkin' home that + arternoon, I ketched up my shawl an' run in behind her, to borrer some + yeast. Nobody thought anything o' birthdays in our neighborhood, an' mebbe + that made it seem a good deal more 'n 'twas; but when I got in there, I + vow I was sorry I come. There set Josh by the kitchen table, sort o' red + an' pleased, with his old pocket-book open afore him, an' he was puttin' + all his bills an' papers into the new one, an' sayin', every other word,— + </p> + <p> + "'Why, 'Mandy, I never see your beat! Ain't this a nice one, Lyddy?' + </p> + <p> + "An' 'Mandy was b'ilin' over with pride, an' she stood there takin' off + her cloud; she'd been in such a hurry to give it to him she hadn't even + got her things off fust. Lyddy stood by the cupboard, lookin' straight at + the glass spoon-holder. I thought arterwards I didn't b'lieve she see it; + an' if she did, I guess she never forgot it. + </p> + <p> + "'Yes, it's a real nice one,' says I. + </p> + <p> + "I had to say suthin', but in a minute, I was most scairt. Lyddy turned + round, in a kind of a flash; her face blazed all over red, an' her eyes + kind o' went through me. She stepped up to the table, an' took up the old + pocket-book. + </p> + <p> + "'You've got a new one,' says she. 'May I have this?' + </p> + <p> + "'Course you may,' says he. + </p> + <p> + "He didn't look up to see her face, an' her voice was so soft an' still, I + guess he never thought nothin' of it. Then she held the pocket-book up + tight ag'inst her dress waist an' walked off into the bedroom. I al'ays + thought she never knew I was there. An' arterwards it come out that that + old pocket-book was one she'd bought for him afore they was married,—earned + it bindin' shoes." + </p> + <p> + "<i>'Twas</i> kind o' hard," owned Mrs. Niles, bending forward, and, with + hands clasped over her knees, peering into the coals for data regarding + her own marital experiences. "But if 'twas all wore out—did you say + 'twas wore?—well, then I dunno's you could expect him to set by it. + An' 'twa'n't as if he'd give it away; they'd got it between 'em." + </p> + <p> + "I dunno; it's all dark to me," owned Sally Flint. "I guess 'twould puzzle + a saint to explain men-folks, anyway, but I've al'ays thought they was + sort o' numb about some things. Anyway, Josh Marden was. Well, things went + on that way till the fust part o' the summer, an' then they come to a + turnin'-p'int. I s'pose they'd got to, some time, an' it might jest as + well ha' been fust as last. Lyddy Ann was pretty miserable, an' she'd been + dosin' with thoroughwort an' what all when anybody told her to; but I + al'ays thought she never cared a mite whether she lived to see another + spring. The day I'm comin' to, she was standin' over the fire fryin' fish, + an' 'Mandy was sort o' fiddlin' round, settin' the table, an' not doin' + much of anything arter all. I dunno how she come to be so aggravatin', for + she was al'ays ready to do her part, if she <i>had</i> come between + husband an' wife. You know how hard it is to git a fish dinner! Well, + Lyddy Ann was tired enough, anyway. An' when Josh come in, 'Mandy she took + a cinnamon-rose out of her dress, an' offered it to him. + </p> + <p> + "'Here's a flower for your button-hole,' says she, as if she wa'n't more + 'n sixteen. An' then she set down in a chair, an' fanned herself with a + newspaper. + </p> + <p> + "Now that chair happened to be Lyddy Ann's at the table, an' she see what + was bein' done. She turned right round, with the fish-platter in her hand, + an' says she, in an awful kind of a voice,— + </p> + <p> + "'You git up out o' my chair! You've took my husband away, but you sha'n't + take my place at the table!' + </p> + <p> + "The hired man was there, washin' his hands at the sink, an' he told it to + me jest as it happened. Well, I guess they all thought they was struck by + lightnin', an' Lyddy Ann most of all. Josh he come to, fust. He walked + over to Lyddy Ann. + </p> + <p> + "'You put down that platter!' says he. An' she begun to tremble, an' set + it down. + </p> + <p> + "I guess they thought there was goin' to be murder done, for 'Mandy busted + right out cryin' an' come runnin' over to me, an' the hired man took a + step an' stood side o' Lyddy Ann. He was a little mite of a man, Cyrus + was, but he wouldn't ha' stood no violence. + </p> + <p> + "Josh opened the door that went into the front entry, an' jest p'inted. + 'You walk in there,' he says, 'an' you stay there. That's your half o' the + house, an' this is mine. Don't you dast to darken my doors!' + </p> + <p> + "Lyddy Ann she walked through the entry an' into the fore-room, an' he + shet the door." + </p> + <p> + "I wouldn't ha' done it!" snorted old Mrs. Page, who had spent all her + property in lawsuits over a right of way. "Ketch me!" + </p> + <p> + "You would if you'd 'a' been Lyddy Ann!" said Sally Flint, with an + emphatic nod. Then she continued: "I hadn't more'n heard 'Mandy's story + afore I was over there; but jest as I put my foot on the door-sill, Josh + he come for'ard to meet me. + </p> + <p> + "'What's wanted?' says he. An' I declare for't I was so scairt I jest + turned round an' cut for home. An' there set 'Mandy, wringin' her hands. + </p> + <p> + "'What be I goin' to do?' says she, over 'n' over. 'Who ever'd ha' thought + o' this?' + </p> + <p> + "'The thing for you to do,' says I, 'is to go, straight home to your + mother, an' I'll harness up an' carry you. Don't you step your foot inside + that house ag'in. Maybe ma'am will go over an' pack up your things. You've + made mischief enough.' So we got her off that arter-noon, an' that was an + end of <i>her</i>. + </p> + <p> + "I never could see what made Josh think so quick that day. We never + thought he was brighter 'n common; but jest see how in that flash o' bein' + mad with Lyddy Ann he'd planned out what would be most wormwood for her! + He gi'n her the half o' the house she'd furnished herself with hair-cloth + chairs an' a whatnot, but 'twa'n't the part that was fit to be lived in. + She stayed pretty close for three or four days, an' I guess she never had + nothin' to eat. It made me kind o' sick to think of her in there settin' + on her hair-cloth sofy, an' lookin' at her wax flowers an' the coral on + the what-not, an' thinkin' what end she'd made. It was of a Monday she was + sent in there, an' Tuesday night I slipped over an' put some luncheon on + the winder-sill; but 'twas there the next day, an' Cyrus see the old + crower fly up an' git it. An' that same Tuesday mornin', Josh had a j'iner + come an' begin a partition right straight through the house. It was all + rough boards, like a high fence, an' it cut the front entry in two, an' + went right through the kitchen—so't the kitchen stove was one side + on't, an' the sink the other. Lyddy Ann's side had the stove. I was glad + o' that, though I s'pose she 'most had a fit every day to think o' him + tryin' to cook over the airtight in the settin'-room. Seemed kind o' queer + to go to the front door, too, for you had to open it wide an' squeeze + round the partition to git into Lyddy Ann's part, an' a little mite of a + crack would let you into Josh's. But they didn't have many callers. It was + a good long while afore anybody dared to say a word to her; an' as for + Josh, there wa'n't nobody that cared about seein' him but the + tax-collector an' pedlers. + </p> + <p> + "Well, the trouble Josh took to carry out that mad fit! He split wood an' + laid it down at Lyddy Ann's door, an' he divided the eggs an' milk, an' + shoved her half inside. He bought her a separate barrel o' flour, an' all + the groceries he could think on; they said he laid money on her + winder-sill. But, take it all together, he was so busy actin' like a + crazed one that he never got his 'taters dug till 'most time for the + frost. Lyddy Ann she never showed her head among the neighbors ag'in. When + she see she'd got to stay there, she begun to cook for herself; but one + day, one o' the neighbors heard her pleadin' with Josh, out in the + cow-yard, while he was milkin'. + </p> + <p> + "'O Joshuay,' she kep' a-sayin' over 'n' over, 'you needn't take me back, + if you'll on'y let me do your work! You needn't speak to me, an' I'll live + in the other part; but I shall be crazy if you don't let me do your work. + O Joshuay! O Joshuay!' She cried an' cried as if her heart would break, + but Josh went on milkin', an' never said a word. + </p> + <p> + "I s'pose she thought he'd let her, the old hunks, for the next day, she + baked some pies an' set 'em on the table in his part. She reached in + through the winder to do it. But that night, when Josh come home, he hove + 'em all out into the back yard, an' the biddies eat 'em up. The last time + I was there, I see them very pieces o' pie-plate, white an' blue-edged, + under the syringa bush. Then she kind o' give up hope. I guess—But + no! I'm gittin' ahead o' my story. She did try him once more. Of course + his rooms got to lookin' like a hog's nest—" + </p> + <p> + "My! I guess when she see him doin' his own washin', she thought the + pocket-book was a small affair," interpolated Mrs. Niles. + </p> + <p> + "She used to go round peerin' into his winders when he wa'n't there, an' + one day, arter he'd gone off to trade some steers, she jest spunked up + courage an' went in an' cleaned all up. I see the bed airin', an' went + over an' ketched her at it. She hadn't more'n got through an' stepped + outside when Josh come home, an' what should he do but take the + wheelbarrer an', beat out as he was drivin' oxen five mile, go down to the + gravel-pit an' get a barrerful o' gravel. He wheeled it up to the side + door, an' put a plank over the steps, an' wheeled it right in. An' then he + dumped it in the middle o' his clean floor. That was the last o' her + tryin' to do for him on the sly. + </p> + <p> + "I should ha' had some patience with him if 'twa'n't for one thing he done + to spite her. Seemed as if he meant to shame her that way afore the whole + neighborhood. He wouldn't speak to her himself, but he sent a painter by + trade to tell her he was goin' to paint the house, an' to ask her what + color she'd ruther have. The painter said she acted sort o' wild, she was + so pleased. She told him yaller; an' Josh had him go right to work on't + next day. But he had her half painted yaller, an' his a kind of a drab, I + guess you'd call it. He sold a piece o' ma'sh to pay for't. Dr. Parks said + you might as well kill a woman with a hatchet, as the man did down to + Sudleigh, as put her through such treatment. My! ain't it growin' late? + Here, let me set back by the winder. I want to see who goes by, to-day. + An' I'll cut my story short. + </p> + <p> + "Well, they lived jest that way. Lyddy Ann she looked like an old woman, + in a month or two. She looked every minute as old as you do, Mis' Gridley. + Ain't you sixty-nine? Well, she wa'n't but thirty-six. Her hair turned + gray, an' she was all stooped over. Sometimes I thought she wa'n't jest + right. I used to go in to see if she'd go coltsfootin' with me, or + plummin'; but she never'd make me no answer. I recollect two things she + said. One day, she set rockin' back'ards an' for'ards in a straight chair, + holdin' her hands round her knees, an' she says,— + </p> + <p> + "'I 'ain't got no pride, Sally Flint! I 'ain't got no pride!' + </p> + <p> + "An' once she looked up kind o' pitiful an' says, 'Ain't it queer I can't + die?' But, poor creatur', I never thought she knew what she was sayin'. + She'd ha' been the last one to own she wa'n't contented if she'd had any + gover'ment over her words. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Josh he'd turned the hired man away because he couldn't do for him + over the airtight stove, an' he got men to help him by days' works. An' + through the winter, he jest set over the fire an' sucked his claws, an' + thought how smart he was. But one day 'twas awful cold, an' we'd been + tryin' out lard, an' the fat ketched fire, an' everything was all up in + arms, anyway. Cyrus he was goin' by Josh's, an' he didn't see no smoke + from the settin'-room stove. So he jest went to the side door an' walked + in, an' there set Josh in the middle o' the room. Couldn't move hand nor + foot! Cyrus didn't stop for no words, but he run over to our house, + hollerin', 'Josh Harden's got a stroke!' An' ma'am left the stove all over + fat an' run, an' I arter her, I guess Lyddy Ann must ha' seen us comin', + for we hadn't more'n got into the settin'-room afore she was there. The + place was cold as a barn, an' it looked like a hurrah's nest. Josh never + moved, but his eyes follered her when she went into the bedroom to spread + up the bed. + </p> + <p> + "'You help me, Cyrus,' says she, kind, o' twittery-like, but calm. 'We'll + carry him in here. I can lift.' + </p> + <p> + "But our men-folks got there jest about as they was tryin' to plan how to + take him, an' they h'isted him onto the bed. Cyrus harnessed up our horse + an' went after Dr. Parks, an' by the time he come, we'd got the room so's + to look decent. An'—if you'll b'lieve it! Lyddy Ann was in the + bedroom tryin' to warm Josh up an' make him take some hot drink; but when + I begun to sweep up, an' swop towards that gravel-pile in the middle o' + the floor, she come hurryin' up, all out o' breath. She ketched the broom + right out o' my hand. + </p> + <p> + "I'll sweep, byme-by,' says she. 'Don't you touch that gravel, none on + ye!' An' so the gravel laid there, an' we walked round it, watchers an' + all. + </p> + <p> + "She wouldn't have no watcher in his bedroom, though; she was determined + to do everything but turn him an' lift him herself, but there was al'ays + one or two settin' round to keep the fires goin' an' make sure there was + enough cooked up. I swan, I never see a woman so happy round a bed o' + sickness as Lyddy Ann was! She never made no fuss when Josh was awake, but + if he shet his eyes, she'd kind o' hang over the bed an' smooth the clo'es + as if they was kittens, an' once I ketched her huggin' up the sleeve of + his old barn coat that hung outside the door. If ever a woman made a fool + of herself over a man that wa'n't wuth it, 'twas Lyddy Ann Marden! + </p> + <p> + "Well, Josh he hung on for a good while, an' we couldn't make out whether + he had his senses or not. He kep' his eyes shet most o' the time; but when + Lyddy Ann's back was turned, he seemed to know it somehow, an' he'd open + 'em an' foller her all round the room. But he never spoke. I asked the + doctor about it. + </p> + <p> + "'Can't he speak, doctor?' says I. 'He can move that hand a leetle to-day. + Don't you s'pose he could speak, if he'd a mind to?' + </p> + <p> + "The doctor he squinted up his eyes—he al'ays done that when he + didn't want to answer—an' he says,— + </p> + <p> + "'I guess he's thinkin' on't over.' + </p> + <p> + "But one day, Lyddy Ann found she was all beat out, an' she laid down in + the best bedroom an' went to sleep. I set with Josh. I was narrerin' off, + but when I looked up, he was beckonin' with his well hand. I got up, an' + went to the bed. + </p> + <p> + "'Be you dry?' says I. He made a little motion, an' then he lifted his + hand an' p'inted out into the settin'-room. + </p> + <p> + "Do you want Lyddy Ann?' says I. 'She's laid down.' No, he didn't want + her. I went to the settin'-room door an' looked out, an'—I dunno how + 'twas—it all come to me. + </p> + <p> + "'Is it that gravel-heap?' says I. 'Do you want it carried off, an' the + floor swop up?' An' he made a motion to say 'Yes.' I called Cyrus, an' we + made short work o' that gravel. When, I'd took up the last mite on't, I + went back to the bed. + </p> + <p> + "'Josh Marden,' says I, 'can you speak, or can't you?' But he shet his + eyes, an' wouldn't say a word. + </p> + <p> + "When Lyddy Ann come out, I told her what he'd done, an' then she did give + way a little mite. Two tears come out o' her eyes, an' jest rolled down + her cheeks, but she didn't give up to 'em. + </p> + <p> + "'Sally,' says she, sort o' peaceful, 'I guess I'll have a cup o' tea.' + </p> + <p> + "Well, there was times when we thought Josh would git round ag'in, if he + didn't have another stroke. I dunno whether he did have another or not, + but one night, he seemed to be sort o' sinkin' away. Lyddy Ann she begun + to turn white, an' she set down by him an' rubbed his sick hand. He looked + at her,—fust time he had, fair an' square,—an' then he begun + to wobble his lips round an' make a queer noise with 'em. She put her head + down, an' then she says, 'Yes, Joshuay! yes, dear!' An' she got up an' + took the pocket-book 'Mandy had gi'n him off the top o' the bureau, an' + laid it down on the bed where he could git it. But he shook his head, an' + said the word ag'in, an' a queer look—as if she was scairt an' + pleased—flashed over Lyddy Ann's face. She run into the parlor, an' + come back with that old pocket-book he'd give up to her, an' she put it + into his well hand. That was what he wanted. His fingers gripped it up, + an' he shet his eyes. He never spoke ag'in. He died that night." + </p> + <p> + "I guess she died, too!" said Lucy Staples, under her breath, stealthily + wiping a tear from her faded cheek. + </p> + <p> + "No, she didn't, either!" retorted Sally Flint, hastily, getting up to + peer from the window down the country road. "She lived a good many year, + right in that very room he'd drove her out on, an' she looked as if she + owned the airth. I've studied on it consid'able, an' I al'ays s'posed + 'twas because she'd got him, an' that was all she cared for. There's the + hearse now, an' two carriages, step an' step." + </p> + <p> + "Land! who's dead?" exclaimed Mrs. Forbes, getting up in haste, while her + ball rolled unhindered to the other end of the room. + </p> + <p> + "It's Lyddy Ann Marden," returned Sally Flint, with the triumphant quiet + of one first at the goal. "I see it this mornin' in the 'County Democrat,' + when I was doin' up my wrist, an' you was all so busy." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HEMAN'S MA. + </h2> + <p> + It was half-past nine of a radiant winter's night, and the Widder Poll's + tooth still ached, though she was chewing cloves, and had applied a + cracker poultice to her cheek. She was walking back and forth through the + great low-studded kitchen, where uncouth shadows lurked and brooded, still + showing themselves ready to leap aloft with any slightest motion of the + flames that lived behind the old black fire-dogs. At every trip across the + room, she stopped to look from the window into the silver paradise + without, and at every glance she groaned, as if groaning were a duty. The + kitchen was unlighted save by the fire and one guttering candle; but even + through such inadequate illumination the Widder Poll was a figure + calculated to stir rich merriment in a satirical mind. Her contour was + rather square than oblong, and she was very heavy. In fact, she had begun + to announce that her ankles wouldn't bear her much longer, and she should + "see the day when she'd have to set by, from mornin' to night, like old + Anrutty Green that had the dropsy so many years afore she was laid away." + Her face, also, was cut upon the broadest pattern in common use, and her + small, dull eyes and closely shut mouth gave token of that firmness which, + save in ourselves, we call obstinacy. To-night, however, her features were + devoid of even their wonted dignity, compressed, as they had been, by the + bandage encircling her face. She looked like a caricature of her + unprepossessing self. On one of her uneasy journeys to the window, she + caught the sound of sleigh-bells; and staying only to assure herself of + their familiar ring, she hastily closed the shutter, and, going back to + the fireplace, sank into a chair there, and huddled over the blaze. The + sleigh drove slowly into the yard, and after the necessary delay of + unharnessing, a man pushed open the side door, and entered the kitchen. + He, too, was short and square of build, though he had no superfluous + flesh. His ankles would doubtless continue to bear him for many a year to + come. His face was but slightly accented; he had very thin eyebrows, light + hair, and only a shaggy fringe of whisker beneath the chin. This was Heman + Blaisdell, the Widder Poll's brother-in-law, for whom she had persistently + kept house ever since the death of his wife, four years ago. He came in + without speaking, and after shaking himself out of his great-coat, sat + silently down in his armchair by the fire. The Widder Poll held both hands + to her face, and groaned again. At length, curiosity overcame her, and, + quite against her judgment, she spoke. She was always resolving that she + would never again take the initiative; but every time her resolution went + down before the certainty that if she did not talk, there would be no + conversation at all,—for Heman had a staying power that was + positively amazing. + </p> + <p> + "Well?" she began, interrogatively. + </p> + <p> + Heman only stirred slightly in his chair. + </p> + <p> + "<i>Well!</i> ain't you goin' to tell me what went on at the meetin'?" + </p> + <p> + Her quarry answered patiently, yet with a certain dogged resistance of + her,— + </p> + <p> + "I dunno's there's anything to tell." + </p> + <p> + "How'd it go off?" + </p> + <p> + "'Bout as usual." + </p> + <p> + "Did you speak?" + </p> + <p> + "No." + </p> + <p> + "Lead in prayer?" + </p> + <p> + "No." + </p> + <p> + "Wa'n't you <i>asked</i>?" + </p> + <p> + "No." + </p> + <p> + "Well, my soul! Was Roxy Cole there?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "Did you fetch her home?" + </p> + <p> + "No, I didn't!" Some mild exasperation animated his tone at last. The + Widder detected it, and occupied herself with her tooth. + </p> + <p> + "My soul an' body! I wonder if it's goin' to grumble all night long!" she + exclaimed, bending lower over the blaze. "I've tried everything but a + roasted raisin, an' I b'lieve I shall come to that." + </p> + <p> + Heman rose, and opened the clock on the mantel; he drew forth the key from + under the pendulum, and slowly wound up the time-worn machinery. In + another instant, he would be on his way to bed; the Widder knew she must + waste no time in hurt silence, if she meant to find out anything. She + began hastily,— + </p> + <p> + "Did they say anything about the church fair?" + </p> + <p> + "They ain't goin' to have it." + </p> + <p> + "Not have it! Well, how <i>be</i> they goin' to git the shinglin' paid + for?" + </p> + <p> + "They've got up the idee of an Old Folks' Concert." + </p> + <p> + "Singin'?" + </p> + <p> + "Singin' an' playin'." + </p> + <p> + "Who's goin' to play?" + </p> + <p> + "Brad Freeman an' Jont Marshall agreed to play fust an' second fiddle." + Heman paused a moment, and straightened himself with an air of conscious + pride; then he added,— + </p> + <p> + "They've asked me to play the bass-viol." + </p> + <p> + The Widder had no special objections to this arrangement, but it did + strike her as an innovation; and when she had no other reason for + disapproval, she still believed in it on general principles. So altogether + effective a weapon should never rust from infrequent use! + </p> + <p> + "Well!" she announced. "I never heard of such carryin's-on,—never!" + </p> + <p> + Heman was lighting a small kerosene lamp. The little circle of light + seemed even brilliant in the dusky room; it affected him with a relief so + sudden and manifest as to rouse also a temporary irritation at having + endured the previous gloom even for a moment. + </p> + <p> + "'Ain't you got no oil in the house?" he exclaimed, testily. "I wish you'd + light up, evenin's, an' not set here by one taller candle!" + </p> + <p> + He had ventured on this remonstrance before, the only one he permitted + himself against his housekeeper's ways, and at the instant of making it, + he realized its futility. + </p> + <p> + "The gre't lamp's all full," said the Widder, warming her apron and + pressing it to her poulticed face. "You can light it, if you've got the + heart to. That was poor Mary's lamp, an' hard as I've tried, I never could + bring myself to put a match to that wick. How many evenin's I've seen her + set by it, rockin' back'ards an' for'ards,—an' her needle goin' in + an' out! She was a worker, if ever there was one, poor creatur'! At it all + the time, jes' like a silk-worm." + </p> + <p> + Heman was perfectly familiar with this explanation; from long repetition, + he had it quite by heart. Possibly that was why he did not wait for its + conclusion, but tramped stolidly away to his bedroom, where he had begun + to kick off his shoes by the time his sister-in-law reached a period. + </p> + <p> + The Widder had a fresh poultice waiting by the fire. She applied it to her + cheek, did up her face in an old flannel petticoat, and then, having + covered the fire, toiled up to bed. It was a wearisome journey, for she + carried a heavy soapstone which showed a tendency to conflict with the + candle, and she found it necessary to hold together most of her garments; + these she had "loosened a mite by the fire," according to custom on cold + nights, after Heman had left her the field. + </p> + <p> + Next day, Heman went away into the woods chopping, and carried his dinner + of doughnuts and cheese, with a chunk of bean-porridge frozen into a ball, + to be thawed out by his noontime fire. He returned much earlier than + usual, and the Widder was at the window awaiting him. The swelling in her + cheek had somewhat subsided; and the bandage, no longer distended by a + poultice beneath, seemed, in comparison, a species of holiday device. She + was very impatient. She watched Heman, as he went first to the barn; and + even opened the back door a crack to listen for the rattling of chains, + the signal of feeding or watering. + </p> + <p> + "What's he want to do that now for?" she muttered, closing the door again, + as the cold struck her cheek. "He'll have to feed 'em ag'in, come night!" + </p> + <p> + But at last he came, and, according to his silent wont, crossed the + kitchen to the sink, to wash his hands. He was an unobservant man, and it + did not occur to him that the Widder had on her Tycoon rep, the gown she + kept "for nice." Indeed, he was so unused to looking at her that he might + well have forgotten her outward appearance. He was only sure of her size; + he knew she cut off a good deal of light. One sign, however, he did + recognize; she was very cheerful, with a hollow good-nature which had its + meaning. + </p> + <p> + "I got your shavin'-water all ready," she began. "Don't you burn ye when + ye turn it out." + </p> + <p> + It had once been said of the Widder Poll that if she could hold her + tongue, the devil himself couldn't get ahead of her. But fortune had not + gifted her with such endurance, and she always spoke too often and too + soon. + </p> + <p> + "Brad Freeman's been up here," she continued, eying Heman, as she drew out + the supper-table and put up the leaves. "I dunno's I ever knew anybody so + took up as he is with that concert, an' goin' to the vestry to sing + to-night, an' all. He said he'd call here an' ride 'long o' you, an' I + told him there'd be plenty o' room, for you'd take the pung." + </p> + <p> + If Heman felt any surprise at her knowledge of his purpose, he did not + betray it. He poured out his shaving-water, and looked about him for an + old newspaper. + </p> + <p> + "I ain't goin' in the pung," he answered, without glancing at her. "The + shoe's most off'n one o' the runners now." + </p> + <p> + The Widder Poll set a pie on the table with an emphasis unconsciously + embodying her sense that now, indeed, had come the time for remedies. + </p> + <p> + "I dunno what you can take," she remarked, with that same foreboding + liveliness. "Three on a seat, an' your bass-viol, too!" + </p> + <p> + Heman was lathering his cheeks before the mirror, where a sinuous Venus + and a too-corpulent Cupid disported themselves in a green landscape above + the glass. "There ain't goin' to be three," he said, patiently. "T'others + are goin' by themselves." + </p> + <p> + The Widder took up her stand at a well-chosen angle, and looked at him in + silence. He paid no attention to her, and it was she who, of necessity, + broke into speech. + </p> + <p> + "<i>Well!</i> I've got no more to say. Do you mean to tell me you'd go off + playin' on fiddles an' bass-viols, an' leave me, your own wife's sister, + settin' here the whole evenin' long, all swelled up with the toothache?" + </p> + <p> + Heman often felt that he had reached a state of mind where nothing could + surprise him, but this point of view was really unexpected. He decided, + however, with some scorn, that the present misunderstanding might arise + from a confusion of terms in the feminine mind. + </p> + <p> + "This ain't the concert," he replied, much as if she had proposed going to + the polls. "It's the rehearsal. That means where you play the tunes over. + The concert ain't comin' off for a month." + </p> + <p> + And now the Widder Poll spoke with the air of one injured almost beyond + reparation. + </p> + <p> + "I'd like to know what difference that makes! If a man's goin' where he + can't take his womenfolks, I say he'd better stay to home! an' if there's + things goin' on there't you don't want me to git hold of, I tell you, + Heman Blaisdell, you'd better by half stop shavin' you now, an' take + yourself off to bed at seven o'clock! Traipsin' round playin' the fiddle + at your age! Ain't I fond o' music?" + </p> + <p> + "No, you ain't!" burst forth Heman, roused to brief revolt where his + beloved instrument was concerned. "You don't know Old Hunderd from Yankee + Doodle!" + </p> + <p> + The Widder walked round the table and confronted him as he was turning + away from the glass, shaving-mug in hand. + </p> + <p> + "You answer me one question! I know who's goin' to be there, an' set in + the chorus an' sing alto. Brad Freeman told me, as innercent as a lamb. + Heman Blaisdell, you answer me? Be you goin' to bring anybody here to this + house, an' set her in poor Mary's place? If you be, I ought to be the fust + one to know it." + </p> + <p> + Heman looked at the shaving-mug for a moment, as if he contemplated + dashing it to the floor. Then he tightened his grasp on it, like one + putting the devil behind him. + </p> + <p> + "No, I ain't," he said, doggedly, adding under his breath, "not unless I'm + drove to 't." + </p> + <p> + "I dunno who could ha' done more," said the Widder, so patently with the + air of continuing for an indefinite period that Heman reached up for his + hat. "Where you goin'? Mercy sakes alive! don't you mean to eat no supper, + now I've got it all ready?" + </p> + <p> + But Heman pushed his way past her and escaped, muttering something about + "feedin' the critters." Perhaps the "critters" under his care were fed + oftener than those on farms where the ingle-nook was at least as cosey as + the barn. + </p> + <p> + These slight skirmishes always left Heman with an uneasy sense that + somehow he also must be to blame, though he never got beyond wondering + what could have been done to avert the squall. When he went back into the + kitchen, however,—the "critters" fed, and his own nerves soothed by + pitchforking the haymow with the vigor of one who assaults a citadel,—he + was much relieved at finding the atmosphere as clear as usual; and as the + early twilight drew on, he became almost happy at thought of; the vivid + pleasure before him. Never, since his wife died, had he played his + bass-viol in public; but he had long been in the habit of "slying off" + upstairs to it, as to a tryst with lover or friend whom the world denied. + The Widder Poll, though she heard it wailing and droning thence, never + seriously objected to it; the practice was undoubtedly "shaller," but it + kept him in the house. + </p> + <p> + They ate supper in silence; and then, while she washed the dishes, Heman + changed his clothes, and went to the barn to harness. He stood for a + moment, irresolute, when the horse was ready, and then backed him into the + old blue pung. A queer little smile lurked at the corners of his mouth. + </p> + <p> + "I guess the shoe'll go once more," he muttered. "No, I ain't goin' to + marry ag'in! I said I ain't, an' I ain't. But I guess I can give a + neighbor a lift, if I want to!" + </p> + <p> + Brad Freeman was waiting near the tack door when Heman led the horse out + of the barn. He was lank and lean, and his thick red hair strayed low over + the forehead. His army overcoat was rent here and there beyond the + salvation which lay in his wife's patient mending, and his old fur cap + showed the skin in moth-eaten patches; yet Heman thought, with a wondering + protest, how young he looked, how free from care. + </p> + <p> + "Hullo, Heman!" called Brad. + </p> + <p> + "How are ye?" responded Heman, with a cordiality Brad never failed to + elicit from his brother man. + </p> + <p> + Heman left the horse standing, and opened the back door. + </p> + <p> + He stopped short. An awful vision confronted him,—the Widder Poll, + clad not only in the Tycoon rep, but her best palm-leaf shawl, her fitch + tippet, and pumpkin hood; her face was still bandaged, and her head-gear + had been enwound by a green <i>barège</i> veil. She stepped forward with + an alertness quite unusual in one so accustomed to remembering her weight + of mortal flesh. + </p> + <p> + "Here!" she called, "you kind o' help me climb in. I ain't so spry as I + was once. You better give me a real boost. But, land! I mustn't talk. I + wouldn't git a mite of air into that tooth for a dollar bill." + </p> + <p> + Heman stepped into the house for his bass-viol, and brought it out with an + extremity of tender care; he placed it, enveloped in its green baize + covering, in the bottom of the pung. Some ludicrous association between + the baize and the green <i>barège</i> veil struck Brad so forcibly that he + gave vent to a chuckle, sliding cleverly into a cough. He tried to meet + Heman's eye, but Heman only motioned him to get in, and took his own place + without a word. Brad wondered if he could be ill; his face had grown + yellowish in its pallor, and he seemed to breathe heavily. + </p> + <p> + Midway in their drive to the vestry, they passed a woman walking briskly + along in the snowy track. She was carrying her singing-books under one + arm, and holding her head high with that proud lift which had seemed, more + than anything else, to keep alive her girlhood's charm. + </p> + <p> + "There's Roxy," said Brad. "Here, Heman, you let me jump out, an' you give + her a lift." But Heman looked straight before him, and drove on. + </p> + <p> + By the time they entered Tiverton Street, the vestry was full of + chattering groups. Heman was the last to arrive. He made a long job of + covering the horse, inside the shed, resolved that nothing should tempt + him to face the general mirth at the Widder's entrance. For he could not + deceive himself as to the world's amused estimate of her guardianship and + his submission. He had even withdrawn from the School Board, where he had + once been proud to figure, because, entering the schoolroom one day at + recess, he had seen, on a confiscated slate at the teacher's desk, a rough + caricature representing "Heman and his Ma." The Ma was at least half the + size of the slate, while Heman was microscopic; but, alas! his inflamed + consciousness found in both a resemblance which would mightily have + surprised the artist. He felt that if he ever saw another testimony of art + to his unworthiness, he might commit murder. + </p> + <p> + When he did muster courage to push open the vestry door, the Widder Poll + sat alone by the stove, still unwinding her voluminous wrappings, and the + singers had very pointedly withdrawn by themselves. Brad and Jont had + begun to tune their fiddles, and the first prelusive snapping of strings + at once awakened Heman's nerves to a pleasant tingling; he was excited at + the nearness of the coming joy. He drew a full breath when it struck home + to him, with the warm certainty of a happy truth, that if he did not look + at her, even the Widder Poll could hardly spoil his evening. Everybody + greeted him with unusual kindliness, though some could not refrain from + coupling their word with a meaning glance at the colossal figure near the + stove. One even whispered,— + </p> + <p> + "She treed ye, didn't she, Heman?" + </p> + <p> + He did not trust himself to answer, but drew the covering from his own + treasure, and began his part of the delicious snapping and screwing. + </p> + <p> + "Where's Roxy?" called Jont Marshall "Can't do without her alto. Anybody + seen her?" + </p> + <p> + Roxy was really very late, and Heman could not help wondering whether she + had delayed in starting because she had expected a friendly invitation to + ride, "All right," he reflected, bitterly. "She must get used to it." + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and Roxy came in. She had been walking fast, and her + color was high. Heman stole one glance at her, under cover of the saluting + voices. She was forty years old, yet her hair had not one silver thread, + and at that instant of happy animation, she looked strikingly like her + elder sister, to whom Heman used to give lozenges when they were boy and + girl together, and who died in India. Then Roxy took her place, and Heman + bent over his bass-viol. The rehearsal began. Heman forgot all about his + keeper sitting by the stove, as the old, familiar tunes swelled up in the + little room, and one antique phrase after another awoke nerve-cells all + unaccustomed nowadays to thrilling. He could remember just when he first + learned The Mellow Horn, and how his uncle, the sailor, had used to sing + it. "Fly like a youthful hart or roe!" Were there spices still left on the + hills of life? Ah, but only for youth to smell and gather! Boldly, with a + happy bravado, the choir sang,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "The British yoke, the Gallic chain, + Were placed upon our necks in vain!" +</pre> + <p> + And then came the pious climax of Coronation, America, and the Doxology. + Above the tumult of voices following the end of rehearsal, some one + announced the decision to meet on Wednesday night; and Heman, his + bass-viol again in its case, awoke, and saw the Widder putting on her + green veil. Rosa Tolman nudged her intimate friend, Laura Pettis, behind + Heman's back, and whispered,— + </p> + <p> + "I wonder if she's had a good time! There 'ain't been a soul for her to + speak to, the whole evenin' long!" + </p> + <p> + The other girl laughed, with a delicious sense of fun in the situation, + and Heman recoiled; the sound was like a blow in the face. + </p> + <p> + "Say, Heman," said Brad, speaking in his ear. "I guess I'll walk home, + so't you can take in Roxy." + </p> + <p> + But Heman had bent his head, and was moving along with the rest, like a + man under a burden. + </p> + <p> + "No," said he, drearily. "I can't. You come along." + </p> + <p> + His tone was quite conclusive; and Brad, albeit wondering, said no more. + The three packed themselves into the pung, and drove away. Heman was + conscious of some dull relief in remembering that he need not pass Roxy + again on the road, for he heard her voice ring out clearly from a group + near the church. He wondered if anybody would go home with her, and + whether she minded the dark "spell o' woods" by the river. No matter! It + was of no use. She must get used to her own company. + </p> + <p> + The Widder was almost torpid from her long sojourn by the stove; but the + tingling air roused her at last, and she spoke, though mumblingly, + remembering her tooth,— + </p> + <p> + "Proper nice tunes, wa'n't they? Was most on 'em new?" + </p> + <p> + But Brad could not hear, and left it for Heman to answer; and Heman gave + his head a little restive shake, and said, "No." At his own gate, he + stopped. + </p> + <p> + "I guess I won't car' you down home," he said to Brad. + </p> + <p> + It was only a stone's-throw, Brad hesitated. + </p> + <p> + "No, I, didn't mean for ye to," answered he, "but I'll stop an' help + unharness." + </p> + <p> + "No," said Heman, gently. "You better not. I'd ruther do it." Even a + friendly voice had become unbearable in his ears. + </p> + <p> + So, Brad, stepped down, lifted out his fiddle-case, and said good-night. + Heman drove into the yard, and stopped before the kitchen door. He took + the reins in one hand, and held out the other to the Widder. + </p> + <p> + "You be a mite careful o' your feet," he said. "That bass-viol slipped a + little for'ard when we come down Lamson's Hill." + </p> + <p> + She rose ponderously. She seemed to sway and hesitate; then she set one + foot cautiously forward in the pung. There was a rending, crash. The + Widder Poll had stepped into the bass-viol. She gave a little scream; and + plunged forward. + </p> + <p> + "My foot's ketched!" she cried. "Can't you help me out?" + </p> + <p> + Heman dropped the reins; he put his hands on her arms, and pulled her + forward. He never knew whether she reached the ground on her feet or her + knees. Then he pushed past her, where she floundered, and lifted out his + darling. He carried it into the kitchen, and lighted the candle, with + trembling hands. He drew back the cover. The bass-viol had its mortal + wound; he could have laid both fists into the hole. He groaned. + </p> + <p> + "My God Almighty!" he said aloud. + </p> + <p> + The Widder Poll had stumbled into the room. She threw back her green veil, + and her face shone ivory white under its shadow; her small eyes were + starting. She looked like a culprit whom direst vengeance had overtaken at + last. At the sound of her step, Heman lifted his hurt treasure, carried it + tenderly into his bedroom, and shut the door upon it. He turned about, and + walked past her out of the house. The Widder Poll followed him, wringing + her mittened hands. + </p> + <p> + "O Heman!" she cried, "don't you look like that! Oh, you'll do yourself + some mischief, I know you will!" + </p> + <p> + But Heman had climbed into the pung, and given Old Gameleg a vicious cut. + Swinging out of the yard they went; and the Widder Poll ran after until, + just outside the gate, she reflected that she never could overtake him and + that her ankles were weak; then she returned to the house, groaning. + </p> + <p> + Heman was conscious of one thought only: if any man had come home with + Roxy, he should kill him with his own hands. He drove on, almost to the + vestry, and found no trace of her. He turned about, and, retracing his + way, stopped at her mother's gate, left Old Gameleg, and strode into the + yard. There was no light in the kitchen, and only a glimmer in the chamber + above. Heman went up to the kitchen door and knocked. The chamber window + opened. + </p> + <p> + "Who is it?" asked Mrs. Cole. "Why, that you, Heman? Anybody sick?" + </p> + <p> + "Where's Roxy?" returned Heman, as if he demanded her at the point of the + bayonet. + </p> + <p> + "Why, she's been abed as much as ten minutes. The Tuckers brought her + home." + </p> + <p> + "You tell her to come here! I want to see her." + </p> + <p> + "What! down there? Law, Heman! you come in the mornin'. She'll ketch her + death o' cold gittin' up an' dressin', now she's got all warmed through." + </p> + <p> + "What's he want, mother?" came Roxy's clear voice from within the room. + "That's Heman Blaisdell's voice." + </p> + <p> + "Roxy, you come down here!" called Heman, masterfully. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, during which Mrs. Cole was apparently pulled away from + the window. Then Roxy, her head enveloped in a shawl, appeared in her + mother's place. + </p> + <p> + "Well!" she said, impatiently. "What is it?" + </p> + <p> + Heman's voice found a pleading level. + </p> + <p> + "Roxy, will you marry me?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, Heman, you 're perfectly ridiculous! At this time o' night, too!" + </p> + <p> + "You answer me!" cried Heman, desperately. "I want you! Won't you have me, + Roxy? Say?" + </p> + <p> + "Roxy!" came her mother's muffled voice from the bed. "You'll git your + death o' cold. What's he want? Can't you give him an answer an' let him + go?" + </p> + <p> + "Won't you, Roxy?" called Heman. "Oh, won't you?" + </p> + <p> + Roxy began to laugh hysterically. "Yes," she said, and shut the window. + </p> + <p> + When Heman had put up the horse, he walked into the kitchen, and straight + up to the Widder Poll, who stood awaiting him, clinging to the table by + one fat hand. + </p> + <p> + "Now, look here!" he said, good-naturedly, speaking to her with a direct + address he had not been able to use for many a month, "You listen to me. I + don't want any hard feelin', but to-morrer mornin' you've got to pick up + your things an' go. You can have the house down to the Holler, or you can + go out nussin', but you come here by your own invitation, an' you've got + to leave by mine. I'm goin' to be married as soon as I can git a license." + Then he walked to the bedroom, and shut himself in with his ruined + bass-viol and the darkness. + </p> + <p> + And the Widder Poll did not speak. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + There are very few cosey evenings when Heman and Roxy do not smile at each + other across the glowing circle of their hearth, and ask, the one or the + other, with a perplexity never to be allayed,— + </p> + <p> + "Do you s'pose she tumbled, or did she put her foot through it a-purpose?" + </p> + <p> + But Heman is sure to conclude the discussion with a glowing tribute to + Brad Freeman, his genius and his kindliness. + </p> + <p> + "I never shall forgit that o' Brad," he announces. "There wa'n't another + man in the State o' New Hampshire could ha' mended it as he did. Why, you + never'd know there was a brack in it!" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HEARTSEASE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "For as for heartsease, it groweth in a single night." +</pre> + <p> + "What be you doin' of, Mis' Lamson?" asked Mrs. Pettis, coming in from the + kitchen, where she had been holding a long conversation with young Mrs. + Lamson on the possibility of doing over sugar-barberry. Mrs. Pettis was a + heavy woman, bent almost double with rheumatism, and she carried a baggy + umbrella for a cane. She was always sighing over the difficulty of + "gittin' round the house," but nevertheless she made more calls than any + one else in the neighborhood. "It kind o' limbered her up," she said, "to + take a walk after she had been bendin' over the dish-pan." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lamson looked up with an alert, bright glance. She was a little + creature, and something still girlish lingered in her straight, slender + figure and the poise of her head. "Old Lady Lamson" was over eighty, and + she dressed with due deference to custom; but everything about her gained, + in the wearing, an air of youth. Her aggressively brown front was rumpled + a little, as if it had tried to crimp itself, only to be detected before + the operation was well begun, and the purple ribbons of her cap flared + rakishly aloft. + </p> + <p> + "I jest took up a garter," she said, with some apology in her tone. "Kind + o' fiddlin' work, ain't it?" + </p> + <p> + "Last time I was here, you was knittin' mittins," continued Mrs. Pettis, + seating herself laboriously on the lounge, and leaning forward upon the + umbrella clutched steadily in two fat hands. "You're dretful forehanded. I + remember I said so then. 'Samwel 'ain't got a mittin, to his name,' I + says, 'nor he won't have 'fore November.'" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I guess David's pretty well on't for everything now," answered Mrs. + Lamson, with some pride. "He's got five pair o' new mittins, an' my little + blue chist full o' stockin's. I knit 'em two-an'-two, an' two-an'-one, an' + toed some on 'em off with white, an' some with red, so's to keep 'em in + pairs. But Mary said I better not knit any more, for fear the moths'd git + into 'em, an' so I stopped an' took up this garter. But <i>'tis</i> + dretful fiddlin' work!" + </p> + <p> + A brief silence fell upon the two, while the sweet summer scents stole in + at the window,—the breath of the cinnamon rose, of growing, grass + and good brown earth. Mrs. Pettis pondered, looking vacantly before her, + and Old Lady Lamson knit hastily on. Her needles clicked together, and she + turned her work with a jerk in beginning a row. But neither was oppressed + by lack of speech. They understood each other, and no more thought of + "making talk" than of pulling up a seed to learn whether it had + germinated. It was Mrs. Pettis who, after, a natural interval; felt moved + to speak. + </p> + <p> + "Mary's master thoughtful of you, ain't she? 'Tain't many sons' wives + would be so tender of, anybody, now is it?" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lamson looked up sharply, and then, with the same quick movement; + bent her eyes on her work. + </p> + <p> + "Mary means to do jest what's right," she answered. "If she don't make + out, it ain't for lack o' tryin'." + </p> + <p> + "So I says to Samwel this mornin, 'Old Lady Lamson 'ain't one thing to + concert herself with,' says I, 'but to git dressed an' set by the winder. + When dinner-time comes, she's got nothin' to do but hitch up to the table; + an' she don't have to touch her hand to a dish.' Now ain't that so, Mis' + Lamson?" + </p> + <p> + "That's so," agreed Mrs. Lamson, with a little sigh, instantly suppressed. + "It's different from what I thought to myself 'twould be when Mary come + here. ''Tain't in natur' she'll have the feelin' for me she would for her + own,' I says; but I b'lieve she has, an' more too. When she come for good, + I made up my mind I'd put 'Up with everything, an' say 'twas all in the + day's work; but law! I never had to. She an' David both act as if I was + sugar or salt, I dunno which." + </p> + <p> + "Don't ye never help 'round, washin'-days?" + </p> + <p> + "Law, no! Mary won't hear to 't. She'd ruther have the dishes wait till + everything's on the line; an' if I stir a step to go into the gardin to + pick a 'mess o' beans, or kill a currant worm, she's right arter me. + 'Mother, don't you fall!' she says, a dozen 'times a day. 'I dunno what + David'd do to me, if I let anything happen to you.' An' 'David, he's + ketched it, too. One night, 'long towards Thanksgivin' time, I kicked the + soapstone out o' bed, an' he come runnin' up as if he was bewitched. + 'Mother,' says he, 'did you fall? You 'ain't had a stroke, have ye?'" + </p> + <p> + Old Lady Lamson laughed huskily; her black eyes shone, and her cap ribbons + nodded, and danced, but there was an ironical ring to her merriment. + </p> + <p> + "Do tell!" responded Mrs. Pettis, in her ruminating voice. "Well, things + were different when we was young married folks, an' used to do our own + spinnin' an' weavin'." + </p> + <p> + "I guess so!" Mrs. Lamson dropped her busy hands in her lap, and leaned + back a moment, in eager retrospect. "Do you recollect that Friday we spun + from four o'clock in the mornin' till six that evenin', because the + men-folks had gone in the ma'sh, an' all we had to do was to stop an' feed + the critters? An' Hiram Peasley come along with tinware, an' you says, 'If + you're a mind to stop at my house, an' throw a colander an' a long-handled + dipper over the fence, under the flowerin'-currant, an' wait till next + time for your pay, I'll take 'em,' says you. 'But I ain't goin' to leave + off spinnin' for anything less 'n Gabriel's trumpet,' says you. I remember + your sayin' that, as if 'twas only yisterday; an' arter you said it, you + kind o' drawed down your face an' looked scairt. An' I never thought on't + ag'in till next Sabbath evenin', when Jim Bellows rose to speak, an' made + some handle about the Day o' Judgment, an' then I tickled right out." + </p> + <p> + "How you do set by them days!" said Mrs. Pettis, striving to keep a steady + face, though her heavy sides were shaking. "I guess you remember 'em + better 'n your prayers!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I laughed out loud, an' you passed me a pep'mint over the pew, an' + looked as if you was goin' to cry. 'Don't,' says you; an' it sort o' come + over me you knew what I was laughin' at. Why, if there ain't John Freeman + stoppin' here,—Mary's sister's brother-in-law, you know. Lives down + to Bell P'int. Guess he's pullin' up to give the news." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pettis came slowly to her feet, and scanned the farmer, who was + hitching his horse to the fence. When he had gone round to the back door, + she turned, and grasped her umbrella with a firmer hand. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I guess 'twon't pay me to set down ag'in," she announced. "I'm + goin' to take it easy on the way home. I dunno but I'll let down the bars, + an' poke a little ways into the north pastur', an' see if I can't git a + mite o' pennyr'yal. I'll be in ag'in to-morrer or next day." + </p> + <p> + "So do, so do," returned Mrs. Lamson. + </p> + <p> + "'Tain't no use to ask you to come down, I s'pose? You don't git, out so + fur, nowadays." + </p> + <p> + "No," said the other, still with that latent touch of sarcasm in her + voice. "If I should fall, there'd be a great hurrah, boys,—'fire on + the mountain, run, boys, run!'" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pettis toiled out into the road; and Old Lady Lamson, laying her + knitting on the table, bent forward, not to watch her out of sight, but to + make sure whether she really would stop at the north pasture. + </p> + <p> + "No, she's goin' by," she said aloud, with evident relief. "No, she ain't + either. I'll be whipped if she ain't lettin' down the bars! <i>'Twould</i> + smell kind o' good, I declare!" + </p> + <p> + She was still peering forward, one slender hand on the window-sill, when + Mary, a pretty young woman, with two nervous lines between her eyes, came + hurrying in. + </p> + <p> + "Mother," she began, in that unnatural voice which is supposed to allay + excitement in another, "I dunno what I'm goin' to do. Stella's sick." + </p> + <p> + "You don't say!" said Old Lady Lamson, turning away from the window. "What + do they think 'tis?" + </p> + <p> + "Fever, John says. An' she's so full-blooded it'll be likely to go hard + with her. They want me to go right down, an' David's got to carry me. John + would, but he's gone to be referee in that land case, an' he won't be back + for a day or two. It's a mercy David's just home from town, so he won't + have to change his clo'es right through. Now, mother, if you should have + little 'Liza Tolman come an' stay with you, do you think anything would + happen, s'posin' we left you alone just one night?" + </p> + <p> + A little flush rose in the old lady's withered cheek. Her eyes gleamed + brightly through her glasses. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you worry one mite about me," she replied, in an even voice. "You + change your dress, an' git off afore it's dark. I shall be all right." + </p> + <p> + "David's harnessin' now," said Mary, beginning to untie her apron. "I sent + John down to the lower barn to call him. But, mother, if anything should + happen to you—" + </p> + <p> + "Lord-a-massy! nothin' 's goin' to!" the old lady broke forth, in + momentary impatience. "Don't stan' here talkin'. You better have your mind + on Stella. Fever's a quicker complaint than old age. It al'ays was, an' + al'ays will be." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I know it! I know it!" cried Mary, starting toward the door. "There + ain't a thing for you to do. There's new bread an' preserves on the + dairy-wheel, an' you have 'Liza Tolman pick you up some chips, an' build + the fire for your tea; an' don't you wash the dishes, mother. Just leave + 'em in the sink. An' for mercy sake, take a candle, an' not meddle with + kerosene—" + </p> + <p> + "Come, come, ain't you ready?" came David's voice from the door. "I can't + keep the horse stan'in' here till he's all eat up with flies." + </p> + <p> + Mary fled to her bedroom, unbuttoning her dress as she ran; and David came + in, bringing an air of outdoor freshness into the little sitting-room, + with his regal height, his broad shoulders, and tanned, fresh face. + </p> + <p> + "Well, mother," he said, putting a hand of clumsy kindliness on her + shoulder, "if anything happens to you while we're gone, I shall wish we'd + let the whole caboodle of 'em die in their tracks. Don't s'pose anything + will, do ye?" + </p> + <p> + "Law, no, David!" exclaimed the old lady, looking at him with beaming + pride. "You stan' still an' let me pick that mite o' lint off your arm. I + shall be tickled to death to git rid on ye." + </p> + <p> + "Now, mother," counselled Mary, when she came but of the bedroom, hastily + tying her bonnet strings, "you watch the school-children, an' ask 'Liza + Tolman to stay with you, an' if she can't, to get one of the Daltons; an' + tell her we'll give her some Bartlett pears when they're ripe." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, yes, I hear," answered the old lady, rising, and setting back her + chair in its accustomed corner. "Now, do go along, or ye won't be down to + Grapevine Run afore five o'clock." + </p> + <p> + She watched them while they drove out of the yard, shading her eyes with + one nervous hand. + </p> + <p> + "Mother," called Mary, "don't you stan' there in that wind, with nothin' + on your head!" + </p> + <p> + The old lady turned back into the house, and her face was alive with glee. + </p> + <p> + "Wind!" she ejaculated scornfully, and yet with the tolerance of one too + happy for complaint. "Wind! I guess there wouldn't be so much, if some + folks would save their breath to cool their porridge!" + </p> + <p> + She did not go back to the sitting-room and her peaceful knitting. She + walked into the pantry, where she gave the shelves a critical survey, and + then, returning to the kitchen, looked about her once more. + </p> + <p> + "If it's one day sence I've been down sullar," she said aloud, "it's two + year." She 'was lighting a candle as she spoke. In another moment, she was + taking sprightly steps down the stairs into the darkness below. + </p> + <p> + "Now, mother, don't you fall!" she chuckled, midway in the descent; and it + was undeniable that the voice sounded much like Mary's in her anxious + mood. "Now, ain't I a mean creatur' to stan' here laughin' at 'em!" she + went on: "Well,' if she don't keep things nice! 'Taters all sprouted; an' + the preserve cupboard never looked better in my day. Mary's been well + brought up,—I'll say that for her." + </p> + <p> + Old Lady Lamson must have spent at least half an hour in the cellar, for + when she ascended it was after four o'clock, and the school-children had + passed the house on their way home. She heard their voices under the elms + at the turn of the road. + </p> + <p> + "I ain't to blame if I can't ketch 'em," she remarked calmly, as she blew + out her light. "I don't see's anybody could say I was to blame. An' I + couldn't walk up to the Tolmans' to ask 'Liza. I might fall!" + </p> + <p> + She set about her preparations for supper. It was a favorite maxim in the + household that the meal should be eaten early, "to get it out of the way;" + and to-night this unaccustomed handmaid had additional reasons for haste. + But the new bread and preserves were ignored. She built a rousing fire in + the little kitchen stove; she brought out the moulding-board, and with + trembling eagerness proceeded to mix cream-of-tartar biscuits. Not Cellini + himself nor Jeannie Carlyle had awaited the results of passionate labor + with a more strenuous eagerness; and when she drew out the panful of + delicately browned biscuits, she set it down on the table, and looked at + it in sheer delight. + </p> + <p> + "I'll be whipped if they ain't as good as if I'd made 'em every night for + the last two year!" she cried. "I ain't got to git my hand in, an' that's + truth an' fact!" + </p> + <p> + She brought out some "cold b'iled dish," made her strong green tea, and + sat down to a banquet such as they taste who have reached the Delectable + Mountains. It held within it all the savor of a happy past; it satisfied + her hungry soul. + </p> + <p> + After she had washed the supper dishes and scrupulously swept the hearth, + she rested, for a moment's thought, in the old rocking-chair, and then + took her way, candle in hand, to the attic. There was no further + self-confidence on the stairs; she was too serious, now. Her hours were + going fast. The attic, in spite of the open windows, lay hot under + summer's touch upon the shingles outside, and odorous of the dried herbs + hanging in bunches here and there. + </p> + <p> + "Wormwood—thoroughwort—spearmint," she mused, as she touched + them, one after another, and inhaled their fragrance. "'Tain't so long ago + I was out pickin' herbs an' dryin' 'em. Well, well, well!" + </p> + <p> + She made her way under the eaves, and pulled out a hair-trunk, studded + with brass nails. A rush-bottomed chair stood near-by, and, setting her + candle in it, she knelt before the trunk and began lifting out its + contents: a brocaded satin waistcoat of a long-past day, a woolen + comforter knit in stripes, a man's black broadcloth coat. She smoothed + them, as she laid them by, and there was a wondering note in her lowered + voice. + </p> + <p> + "My Lord!" she whispered reverently, as if speaking to One who would hear + and understand, "it's over fifty year!" + </p> + <p> + A pile of yellowed linen lay in the bottom of the trunk, redolent of + camphor from contact with its perishable neighbors. She lifted one shirt + after another, looking at them in silence. Then she laid back the other + clothes, took up her candle and the shirts, and went downstairs again. In + hot haste, she rebuilt the kitchen fire, and set two large kettles of + water on the stove. She dragged the washing-bench into the back kitchen + from its corner in the shed, and on it placed her tubs; and when the water + was heated, she put the garments into a tub, and rubbed with the vigor and + ease of a woman well accustomed to such work. All the sounds of the night + were loud about her, and the song of the whippoorwill came in at the open + door. He was very near. His presence should have been a sign of + approaching trouble, but Old Lady Lamson did not hear him. Her mind was + reading the lettered scroll of a vanished year. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the touch of the warm water on her hands recalled her to the + present. + </p> + <p> + "Seems good to feel the suds," she said, happily, holding up one withered + hand, and letting the foam drip from her fingers, "I wish't I could dry + outdoor! But when mornin' come, they'd be all of a sop." + </p> + <p> + She washed and rinsed the garments, and, opening a clothes-horse, spread + them out to dry. Then she drew a long breath, put out her candle, and + wandered to the door. The garden lay before her, unreal in the beauty of + moonlight. Every bush seemed an enchanted wood. The old lady went forth, + lingering at first, as one too rich for choosing; then with a firmer step. + She closed the little gate, and walked out into the country road. She + hurried along to the old signboard, and turned aside unerringly into a + hollow, there, where she stooped and filled her hands with tansy, pulling + it up in great bunches, and pressing it eagerly to her face. + </p> + <p> + "Seventy-four year ago!" she told the unseen listener of the night, with + the same wonder in her voice. "Sir laid dead, an' they sent me down here + to pick tansy to put round him. Seventy-four year ago!" + </p> + <p> + Still holding it; she rose, and went through the bars into the dewy lane. + Down the wandering path, trodden daily by the cows, she walked, and came + out in the broad pasture, irregular with its little hillocks, where, as + she had been told from her babyhood, the Indians used to plant their corn. + She entered the woods by a cart-path hidden from the moon, and went on + with a light step, gathering a bit of green here and there,—now + hemlock, now a needle from the sticky pine,—and inhaling its balsam + on her hands. A sharp descent, and she had reached the spot where the + brook ran fast, and where lay "Peggy's b'ilin' spring," named for a + great-aunt she had never seen, but whose gold beads she had inherited, and + who had consequently seemed to her a person of opulence and ease. + </p> + <p> + "I wish't I'd brought a cup," she said. "There ain't no such water within + twenty mile." + </p> + <p> + She crouched beside the little black pool, where the moon glinted in + mysterious, wavering, symbols to beckon the gaze upward, and, making a cup + of her hand, drank eagerly. There was a sound near-by, as if some wood + creature were stirring; she thought she heard a fox barking in the + distance. Yet she was really conscious only of the wonder of time, the + solemn record of the fleeting years. + </p> + <p> + When she made her way back through the woods, the moon was sinking, and + the shadows had grown heavy. As she reached the bars again, on her + homeward track, she stopped suddenly, and her face broke into smiling at + the pungent fragrance rising from the bruised herbage beneath her feet. + She stooped and gathered one telltale, homely weed, mixed as it was with + the pasture grass. "Pennyr'yal," she said happily, and felt the richness + of being. + </p> + <p> + When Old Lady Lamson had ironed her shirts and put them away again, all + hot and sweet from the fire, it was five o'clock, and the birds had long + been trying to drag creation up from sleep, to sing with them the wonders + of the dawn. At six, she had her cup of tea, and when, at eight, her son + drove into the yard, she came placidly to the side door to meet him, her + knitting in her hands. + </p> + <p> + "Well, if I ain't glad!" called David. "I couldn't git it out o' my mind + somethin' 'd happened to you. Stella's goin' to be all right, they think, + but nothin' will do but Mary must stay a spell. Do you s'pose you an' I + could keep house a week or so, if I do the heft o' the work?" + </p> + <p> + Old Lady Lamson's eyes took on the look which sometimes caused her son to + inquire suspiciously, "Mother, what you laughin' at?" + </p> + <p> + "I guess we can, if we try hard enough," she said, soberly, rolling up her + yarn. "Now you come in, an' I'll git you a bite o' somethin' t'eat." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MIS' WADLEIGH'S GUEST. + </h2> + <p> + Cyrus Pendleton sat by the kitchen fire, his stockinged feet, in the oven, + and his; hands stretched out toward the kettles, which were bubbling + prosperously away, and puffing a cloud of steam, into his face. He was a + meagre, sad-colored man, with mutton-chop whiskers so thin as to lie like + a shadow on his fallen cheeks; and his glance, wherever it fell, Seemed to + deprecate reproof. Thick layers of flannel swathed his throat, and from + time to time, he coughed wheezingly, with the air of one who, having a + cold, was determined to be conscientious about it. A voice from the + buttery began pouring forth words only a little slower than the blackbird + sings, and with no more reference to reply. + </p> + <p> + "Cyrus, don't you feel a mite better? Though I dunno how you could, expect + to, arter such a night as you had on't, puffin' an' blowin'!" Mrs. + Pendleton followed the voice. She seemed to be borne briskly in on its + wings, and came scudding over the kitchen sill, carrying a pan of freshly + sifted flour. She set it down on the table, and began "stirrin' up." "I + dunno where you got such a cold, unless it's in the air," she continued. + "Folks say they're round, nowadays, an' you ketch 'em, jest as you would + the mumps. But there! nobody on your side or mine ever had the mumps, as + long as I can remember. Except Elkanah, though! an' he ketched 'em down to + Portsmouth, when he went off on that fool's arrant arter elwives. Do you + s'pose you could eat a mite o' fish for dinner?" + </p> + <p> + "I was thinkin'—" interposed Cyrus, mildly; but his wife swept past + him, and took the road. + </p> + <p> + "I dunno's there's any use in gittin' a real dinner, jest you an' me, an' + you not workin' either. Folks say there's more danger of eatin' too much'n + too little. Gilman Lane, though, he kep' eatin' less an' less, an' his + stomach dried all up, till 'twa'n't no bigger'n a bladder. Look here, you! + I shouldn't wonder a mite if you'd got some o' them stomach troubles along + with your cold. You 'ain't acted as if you'd relished a meal o' victuals + for nigh onto ten days. Soon as I git my hands out o' the flour, I'll look + in the doctor's book, an' find out. My! how het up I be!" She wiped her + hands on the roller towel, and unpinned the little plaid shawl drawn + tightly across her shoulders, Its removal disclosed a green sontag, and + under that manifold layers of jacket and waist. She was amply protected + from the cold. "I dunno's I ought to ha' stirred up rye'n' Injun," she + went on, returning to her vigorous tossing and mixing at the table. "Some + might say the steam was bad for your lungs. Anyhow, the doctor's book + holds to't you've got to pick out a dry climate, if you don't want to go + into a decline. Le' me see! when your Aunt Mattie was took, how long was + it afore she really gi'n up? Arter she begun to cough, I mean?" + </p> + <p> + Cyrus moved uneasily. + </p> + <p> + "I dunno," he said, hastily. "I never kep' the run o' such things." + </p> + <p> + But Mirandy, pouring her batter into the pan, heeded him no more than was + her wont. + </p> + <p> + "I s'pose that was real gallopin' consumption," she said, with relish." I + must ask Sister Sarah how long 'twas, next time I see her. She set it down + with the births an' deaths." + </p> + <p> + Cyrus was moved to some remonstrance. He often felt the necessity of + asserting himself, lest he should presently hear his own passing-bell and + epitaph. + </p> + <p> + "I guess you needn't stop steamin' bread for me! I ain't half so stuffed + up as I was yisterday!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pendleton clapped the loaf into the pot, wrinkling her face over the + cloud of steam that came puffing into it. + </p> + <p> + "There!" she exclaimed. "Now perhaps I can git a minute to se' down. I + ain't bound a shoe to-day. My! who's that out this weather?" + </p> + <p> + The side door was pushed open, and then shut with a bang. A vigorous + stamping of snow followed, and the inner door swung in to admit a woman, + very short, very stout, with a round, apple-cheeked face, and twinkling + eyes looking out from the enveloping folds of a gray cloud. + </p> + <p> + "Well!" she said, in a cheery voice, beginning at once to unwind the + cloud, "here I be! Didn't think I'd rain down, did ye? I thought myself, + one spell, I should freeze afore I fell!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pendleton hurried forward, wiping her hands on her apron as she went. + </p> + <p> + "For the land's sake, Marthy Wadleigh!" she cried, laying hold of the + new-comer by the shoulders, and giving her an ineffectual but wholly + delighted shake. "Well, I never! Who brought you over? Though I dunno + which way you come. I 'ain't looked out—" + </p> + <p> + "I walked from the corner," said Mrs. Wadleigh, who never felt any + compunction about interrupting her old neighbor. She was unpinning her + shawl composedly, as one sure of a welcome. "How do, Cyrus? Jim Thomas + took me up jest beyond the depot, an' give me a lift on his sled; but I + was all of a shiver, an' at the corner, I told him he better let me step + down an' walk. So I come the rest o' the way afoot an' alone. You ain't + goin' to use the oven, be ye? I'll jest stick my feet in a minute. No, + Cyrus, don't you move! I'll take t'other side. I guess we sha'n't come to + 'blows over it." + </p> + <p> + She seemed to have brought into the kitchen, with that freshness of + outdoor air which the new-comer bears, like a balsam, in his garments, a + breath of fuller life, and even of jollity. As she sat there in her good + brown dress, with her worked collar, fastened by a large cameo, her gold + beads just showing, and her plump hands folded on a capacious lap, she + looked the picture of jovial content, quite able to take care of herself, + and perhaps apply a sturdy shoulder to the lagging machinery of the world. + </p> + <p> + "Didn't you git word I was comin' this week?" she asked. "I sent you a + line." + </p> + <p> + "No, we 'ain't been so fur's the post-office," answered Mirandy, absently. + She was debating over her most feasible bill of fare, now that a "pick-up + dinner" seemed no longer possible. Moreover, she had something on her + mind, and she could not help thinking how unfortunate it was that Cyrus + shared her secret. Who could tell at what moment he might broach it? She + doubted his discretion. "The roads wa'n't broke out till day before + yisterday." + </p> + <p> + "I shouldn't think they were!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, scornfully, testing the + heat with a hand on her skirt, and then lifting the breadths back over her + quilted petticoat. "I thought that would be the way on't, but I'd made up + my mind to come, an' come I would. Cyrus, what's the matter o' you? + Nothin' more'n a cold, is it?" + </p> + <p> + Cyrus had withdrawn from the stove, and was feeling his chin, uncertainly. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no, I guess not," he said. "We've been kind o' peaked, for a week or + two, all over the neighborhood; but I guess we shall come out on't, now + we've got into the spring. Mirandy, you git me a mite o' hot water, an' + I'll see if I can't shave." + </p> + <p> + Mirandy was vigorously washing potatoes at the sink, but she turned, in + ever-ready remonstrance. + </p> + <p> + "Shave!" she ejaculated, "Well, I guess you won't shave, such a day as + this, in that cold bedroom, with a stockin'-leg round your throat, an' + all! You want to git your death? Why, 'twas only last night, Marthy, he + had a hemlock sweat, an' all the ginger tea I could git down into him! An' + then I didn't know—" + </p> + <p> + "Law! let him alone!" said Marthy, with a comfortable, throaty laugh. + "He'll feel twice as well, git some o' them things off his neck. Here, + Cyrus, you reach me down your mug—ain't them your shavin' things up + there?—an' I'll fill it for you. You git him a piece o' flannel, + Mirandy, to put on when he's washed up an' took all that stuff off his + throat. Why, he's got enough wool round there, if 'twas all in yarn, to + knit Old Tobe a pair o' mittins! An' they say one o' his thumbs was + bigger'n the hand o' Providence. You don't want to try all the goodness + out of him, do ye?" + </p> + <p> + Cyrus gave one swift glance at his wife. "There! you see!" it said + plainly. "I am not without defenders." He took down his shaving-mug, with + an air of some bravado. But Mirandy was no shrew; she was simply troubled + about many things. + </p> + <p> + "Well," she said, compressing her lips, and wrinkling her forehead in + resignation. "If folks want to kill themselves, I can't hender 'em! But + when he's down ag'in, I shall be the one to take care of him, that's all. + Here, Cyrus, don't you go into that cold bedroom. You shave you here, if + you're determined to do it." + </p> + <p> + So Cyrus, after honing his razor, with the pleasure of a bored child + provided at last with occupation, betook himself to the glass set in the + lower part of the clock, and there, with much contortion of his thin + visage, proceeded to shave. Mirandy put her potatoes on to boil, and set + the fish on the stove to freshen; then She sat down by the window, with a + great basket beside her, and began to bind shoes. + </p> + <p> + "Here," said Mrs. Wadleigh, coming to her feet and adjusting her skirt, + "you give me a needle! I've got my thimble right here in my pocket. It's + three months sence I've seen a shoe. I should admire to do a pair or two. + I wish I could promise ye more, but somehow I'm bewitched to git over home + right arter dinner!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pendleton laid down her work, and leaned back in her chair. Cyrus + turned, cleared his throat, and looked at her. + </p> + <p> + "Marthy," said the hostess, "you ain't goin' over there to that lonesome + house, this cold snap?" + </p> + <p> + "Ain't I?" asked Mrs. Wadleigh, composedly, as she trimmed the top of her + shoe preparatory to binding it. "Well, you see'f I ain't!" + </p> + <p> + "In the fust place," went on Mrs. Pendleton, nervously, "the cross-road + ain't broke out, an' you can't git there. I dunno's a horse could plough + through; an' s'posin' they could, Cyrus ain't no more fit to go out an' + carry you over'n a fly." + </p> + <p> + "Don't you worry," said Mrs. Wadleigh, binding off one top. "While I've + got my own legs, I don't mean to be beholden to nobody. I've had a proper + nice time all winter, fust with Lucy an' then with Ann,—an' I tell + ye 'tain't everybody that's got two darters married so well!—but for + the last fortnight, I've been in a real tew to come home. They've kep' me + till I wouldn't stay no longer, an' now I've got so near as this, I guess + I ain't goin' to stop for nobody!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pendleton looked despairingly at her husband; and he, absently wiping + his razor on a bit of paper, looked at her. + </p> + <p> + "Marthy!" she burst forth. "No, Cyrus, don't you say one word! You can't + go! There's somebody there!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Wadleigh, in turn, put down her work. + </p> + <p> + "Somebody there!" she ejaculated. "Where?" + </p> + <p> + "In your house!" + </p> + <p> + "In my house? What for?" + </p> + <p> + "I dunno," said Mirandy, unhappily. + </p> + <p> + "Dunno? Well, what are they doin' there?" + </p> + <p> + "I dunno that. We only know there's somebody there." + </p> + <p> + Here the brown-bread kettle boiled over, creating a diversion; and Mirandy + gladly rose to set it further back. A slight heat had come into Mrs. + Wadleigh's manner. + </p> + <p> + "Cyrus," said she, with emphasis, "I should like to have you speak. I left + that house in your care. I left the key with you, an' I should like to + know who you've been an' got in there." + </p> + <p> + Cyrus opened his mouth, and then closed it again without saying a word. He + looked appealingly at his wife; and she took up the tale with some joy, + now that the first plunge had been made. + </p> + <p> + "Well," she said, folding her hands in her apron, and beginning to rock + back and forth, a little color coming into her cheeks, and her eyes + snapping vigorously. "You see, this was the way 'twas. Cyrus, do let me + speak!" Cyrus had ineffectually opened his mouth again. "Wa'n't it in + November you went away? I thought so. Jest after that first sprinklin' o' + snow, that looked as if 'twould lay all winter. Well, we took the key, an' + hung it up inside the clock—an' there 'tis now!—an' once a + week, reg'lar as the day come round, Cyrus went over, an' opened the + winders, an' aired out the house." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Wadleigh sat putting her thimble off and on. + </p> + <p> + "I know all about that," she interposed, "but who's in there now? That's + what I want to find out." + </p> + <p> + "I'm comin' to that. I don't want to git ahead o' my story. An' so't went + on till it come two weeks ago Friday, an' Cyrus went over jest the same as + ever. An' when he hitched to the gate, he see smoke comin' out o' the + chimbly, an' there was a man's face at one square o' glass." She paused, + enjoying her climax. + </p> + <p> + "Well? Why don't you go ahead? Mirandy Jane Pendleton, I could shake you! + You can talk fast enough when somebody else wants the floor! How'd he git + in? What'd he say for himself?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, he never said anything! Cyrus didn't see him." + </p> + <p> + "Didn't see him? I thought he see him lookin' out the winder!" + </p> + <p> + "Why, yes! so he did, but he didn't see him to speak to. He jest nailed up + the door, an' come away." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Wadleigh turned squarely upon the delinquent Cyrus, who stood, + half-shaven, absently honing his razor. + </p> + <p> + "Cyrus," said she, with an alarming decision, "will you open your head, + an' tell me what you nailed up that door for? an' where you got your + nails? I s'pose you don't carry 'em round with you, ready for any door't + happens to need nailin' up?" + </p> + <p> + This fine sarcasm was not lost on Cyrus. He perceived that he had become + the victim of a harsh and ruthless dealing. + </p> + <p> + "I had the key to the front door with me, an' I thought I'd jest step + round an' nail up t'other one," he said, in the tone of one conscious of + right. "There was some nails in the wood-shed. Then I heard somebody + steppin' round inside, an' I come away." + </p> + <p> + "You come away!" repeated Mrs. Wadleigh, rising in noble wrath. "You + nailed up the' door an' come away! Well, if you! ain't a weak sister! + Mirandy, you hand me down that key, out o' the clock, while I git my + things!" + </p> + <p> + She walked sturdily across to the bedroom, and Mirandy followed her, + wringing her hands in futile entreaty. + </p> + <p> + "My soul, Marthy! you ain't goin' over there! You'll be killed, as sure as + you step foot into the yard. Don't you remember how that hired man down to + Sudleigh toled the whole fam'ly out into the barn, one arter another, an' + chopped their heads off—" + </p> + <p> + "You gi' me t'other end o' my cloud," commanded Mrs. Wadleigh. "I'm glad + I've got on stockin'-feet. Where's t'other mittin? Oh! there 'tis, down by + the sto'-leg. Cyrus, if you knew how you looked with your face plastered + over o' lather, you'd wipe it off, an' hand me down that key. Can't you + move? Well, I guess I can reach it myself." + </p> + <p> + She dropped the house key carefully into her pocket, and opened the outer + door; both Cyrus and his wife knew they were powerless to stop her. + </p> + <p> + "O Marthy, do come back!" wailed Mrs. Pendleton after her. "You 'ain't had + a mite o' dinner, an' you'll never git out o' that house alive!" + </p> + <p> + "I'd rather by half hitch up myself," began Cyrus; but his wife turned + upon him, at the word, bundled him into the kitchen, and shut the door + upon him. Then she went back to her post in the doorway, and peered after + Mrs. Wadleigh's square figure on the dazzling road, with a melancholy + determination to stand by her to the last. Only when it occurred to her + that it was unlucky to watch a departing friend out of sight, did she shut + the door hastily, and go in to reproach Cyrus and prepare his dinner. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Wadleigh plodded steadily onward. Her face had lost its robustness of + scorn, and expressed only a cheerful determination. Once or twice her + mouth relaxed, in retrospective enjoyment of the scene behind her, and she + gave vent to a scornful ejaculation. + </p> + <p> + "A man in my house!" she said once, aloud. "I guess we'll see!" + </p> + <p> + She turned into the cross-road, where stood her dear and lonely dwelling, + with no neighbors on either side for half a mile, and stopped a moment to + gaze about her. The road was almost untravelled, and the snow lay + encrusted over the wide fields, sparkling on the heights and blue in the + hollows. The brown bushes by a hidden stone-wall broke the sheen + entrancingly; here and there a dry leaf fluttered, but only enough to show + how still such winter stillness can be, and a flock of little brown birds + rose, with a soft whirr, and settled further on. Mrs. Wadleigh pressed her + lips together in a voiceless content, and her eyes took on a new + brightness. She had lived quite long enough in the town. Rounding a + sweeping bend, and ploughing sturdily along, though it was difficult here + to find the roadway, she kept her eyes fixed on a patch of sky, over a low + elm, where the chimney would first come into view. But just before it + stepped forward to meet her, as she had seen it a thousand times, a + telltale token forestalled it; a delicate blue haze crept out, in spiral + rings, and tinged the sky. + </p> + <p> + "He's got a fire!" she exclaimed loudly. "He's there! My soul!" Until now + the enormity of his offence had not penetrated her understanding. She had + heard the fact without realizing it. + </p> + <p> + The house was ancient but trimly kept, and it stood within a spacious + yard, now in billows and mounds of snow, under which lay the treasures + inherited by the spring. The trellises on either side the door held the + bare clinging arms of jessamine and rose, and the syringa and lilac bushes + reached hardily above the snow. As Mrs. Wadleigh approached the door, she + gave a rapid glance at the hop-pole in the garden, and wondered if its + vine had stood the winter well. That was the third hop vine she'd had from + Mirandy Pendleton! Mounting the front steps, she drew forth the key, and + put it in the door. It turned readily enough, but though she gave more + than one valiant push, the door itself did not yield. It was evidently + barricaded. + </p> + <p> + "My soul!" said Mrs. Wadleigh. + </p> + <p> + She stepped back, to survey the possibilities of attack; but at that + instant, glancing up at the window, she had Cyrus Pendleton's own alarming + experience. A head looked out at her, and was quickly withdrawn. It was + dark, unkempt, and the movement was stealthy. + </p> + <p> + "That's him!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, grimly, and returning to the charge, she + knocked civilly at the door. No answer. Then she pushed again. It would + not yield. She thought of the ladder in the barn, of the small + cellar-window; vain hopes, both of them! + </p> + <p> + "Look here!" she called aloud. "You let me in! I'm the Widder Wadleigh! + This is my own house, an' I'm real tried stan'in' round here, knockin' at + my own front door. You le'me in, or I shall git my death o' cold!" + </p> + <p> + No answer; and then Mrs. Wadleigh, as she afterwards explained it, "got + mad." She ploughed her way round the side of the house,—not the side + where she had seen the face, but by the "best-room" windows,—and + stepped softly up to the back door. Cyrus Pendleton's nail was no longer + there. The man had easily pushed it out. She lifted the latch, and set her + shoulder against the panel. + </p> + <p> + "If it's the same old button, it'll give," she thought. And it did give. + She walked steadily across the kitchen toward the clock-room, where the + man that moment turned to confront her. He made a little run forward; + then, seeing but one woman, he restrained himself. He was not over thirty + years old; a tall, well-built fellow, with very black eyes and black hair. + His features were good, but just now his mouth was set, and he looked + darkly defiant. Of this, however, Mrs. Wadleigh did not think, for she was + in a hot rage. + </p> + <p> + "What under the sun do you mean, lockin' me out o' my own house?" she + cried, stretching out her reddened hands to the fire. "An' potaters b'iled + all over this good kitchen stove! I declare, this room's a real hog's + nest, an' I left it as neat as wax!" + </p> + <p> + Perhaps no man was ever more amazed than this invader. He stood staring at + her in silence. + </p> + <p> + "Can't you shet the door!" she inquired, fractiously, beginning to untie + her cloud. "An' put a stick o' wood in the stove? If I don't git het + through, I shall ketch my death!" + </p> + <p> + He obeyed, seemingly from the inertia of utter surprise. Midway in the act + of lifting the stove-cover, he glanced at her in sharp, suspicion. + </p> + <p> + "Where's the rest?" he asked, savagely. "You ain't alone?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I guess I'm alone!" returned Mrs. Wadleigh, drawing off her icy + stocking-feet, "an' walked all the way from Cyrus Pendleton's! There ain't + nobody likely to be round," she continued, with grim humor. "I never knew + 'twas such a God-forsaken hole, till I'd been away an' come back to 't. + No, you needn't be scairt! The road ain't broke out, an' if 'twas, we + shouldn't have no callers to-day. It's got round there's a man here, an' + I'll warrant the selec'men are all sick abed with colds. But there!" she + added, presently, as the soothing warmth of her own kitchen stove began to + penetrate, "I dunno's I oughter call it a Godforsaken place. I'm kind o' + glad to git back." + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a few minutes, while she toasted her feet, and the + man stood shambling from one foot to the other and furtively watching her + and the road. Suddenly she rose, and lifted a pot-cover. + </p> + <p> + "What you got for dinner?" she inquired, genially. "I'm as holler's a + horn!" + </p> + <p> + "I put some potatoes on," said he, gruffly. + </p> + <p> + "Got any pork? or have you used it all up?" + </p> + <p> + "I guess there's pork! I 'ain't touched it. I 'ain't eat anything but + potatoes; an' I've chopped wood for them, an' for what I burnt." + </p> + <p> + "Do tell!" said Mrs. Wadleigh. She set the potatoes forward, where they + would boil more vigorously. "Well, you go down sullar an' bring me up a + little piece o' pork—streak o' fat an' streak o' lean—an' I'll + fry it. I'll sweep up here a mite while you're gone. Why, I never see such + a lookin' kitchen! What's your name?" she called after him, as he set his + foot on the Upper stair. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. "Joe!" he said, falteringly. + </p> + <p> + "All right, then, Joe, you fly round an' git the pork!" She took down the + broom from its accustomed nail, and began sweeping joyously; the man, + fishing in the pork-barrel, listened meanwhile to the regular sound above. + Once it stopped, and he held his breath for a moment, and stood at bay, + ready to dash up the stairs and past his pursuers, had she let them in. + But it was only her own step, approaching the cellar door. + </p> + <p> + "Joe!" she called. "You bring up a dozen apples, Bald'ins. I'll fry them, + too." + </p> + <p> + Something past one o'clock, they sat down together to as strange a meal as + the little kitchen had ever seen. Bread and butter were lacking, but there + was quince preserve, drawn from some hidden hoard, the apples and pork, + and smoking tea. Mrs. Wadleigh's spirits rose. Home was even better than + her dreams had pictured it. She told her strange guest all about her + darter Lucy and her darter Ann's children; and he listened, quite dazed + and utterly speechless. + </p> + <p> + "There!" she said at last, rising, "I dunno's I ever eat such a meal o' + victuals in my life, but I guess it's better'n many a poor soldier used to + have. Now, if you've got some wood to chop, you go an' do it, an' I'll + clear up this kitchen; it's a real hurrah's nest, if ever there was one!" + </p> + <p> + All that afternoon, the stranger chopped wood, pausing, from time to time, + to look from the shed door down the country road; and Mrs. Wadleigh, + singing "Fly like a Youthful," "But O! their end, their dreadful end," and + like melodies which had prevailed when she "set in the seats," flew round, + indeed, and set the kitchen in immaculate order. Evidently her guest had + seldom left that room. He had slept there on the lounge. He had eaten his + potatoes there, and smoked his pipe. + </p> + <p> + When the early dusk set in, and Mrs. Wadleigh had cleared away their + supper of baked potatoes and salt fish, again with libations of quince, + she drew up before the shining stove, and put her feet on the hearth. + </p> + <p> + "Here!" she called to the man, who was sitting uncomfortably on one corner + of the woodbox, and eying her with the same embarrassed watchfulness. "You + draw up, too! It's the best time o' the day now, 'tween sunset an' dark." + </p> + <p> + "I guess I'd better be goin'," he returned, doggedly. + </p> + <p> + "Goin'? Where?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know. But I'm goin'." + </p> + <p> + "Now look here," said Mrs. Wadleigh, with rigor. "You take that chair, an' + draw up to the fire. You do as I tell you!" + </p> + <p> + He did it. + </p> + <p> + "Now, I can't hender your goin', but if you do go, I've got a word to say + to you." + </p> + <p> + "You needn't say it! I don't want nobody's advice." + </p> + <p> + "Well, you've got to have it jest the same! When you bile potaters, don't + you let 'em run over onto the stove. Now you remember! I've had to let the + fire go down here, an' scrub till I could ha' cried. Don't you never do + such a thing ag'in, wherever you be!" + </p> + <p> + He could only look at her. This sort of woman was entirely new to his + experience. + </p> + <p> + "But I've got somethin' else to say," she continued, adjusting her feet + more comfortably. "I ain't goin' to turn anybody out into the snow, such a + night as this. You're welcome to stay, but I want to know what brought ye + here. I ain't one o' them that meddles an' makes, an' if you 'ain't done + nothin' out o' the way, an' I ain't called on for a witness, you needn't + be afraid o' my tellin'." + </p> + <p> + "You will be called on!" he broke in, speaking from a desperation outside + his own control. "It's murder! I've killed a man!" He turned upon her with + a savage challenge in the motion; but her face was set, placidly forward, + and the growing dusk had veiled its meaning. + </p> + <p> + "Well!" she remarked, at length, "ain't you ashamed to set there talkin' + about it! You must have brass enough to line a kittle! Why 'ain't you + been, like a man, an' gi'n yourself up, instid o' livin' here, turnin' my + kitchen upside down? Now you tell me all about it! It'll do ye good." + </p> + <p> + "I'm goin'," said the man, breathing hard as he spoke, "I'm goin' away + from here tonight. They never'll take me alive. It was this way. There was + a man over where I lived that's most drunk himself under ground, but he + ain't too fur gone to do mischief. He told a lie about me, an' lost me my + place in the shoe shop. Then one night, I met him goin' home, an' we had + words. I struck him. He fell like an ox. I killed him. I didn't go home no + more. I didn't even see my wife. I couldn't tell her. I couldn't be took + <i>there</i>. So I run away. An' when I got starved out, an' my feet were + most froze walkin', I see this house, all shet up, an' I come here." + </p> + <p> + He paused; and the silence was broken only by the slow, cosey ticking of + the liberated clock. + </p> + <p> + "Well!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, at last, in a ruminating tone. "Well! well! Be + you a drinkin' man?" + </p> + <p> + "I never was till I lost my job," he answered, sullenly. "I had a little + then. I had a little the night he sassed me." + </p> + <p> + "Well! well!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, again. And then she continued, musingly: + "So I s'pose you're Joe Mellen, an' the man you struck was Solomon Ray?" + </p> + <p> + He came to his feet with a spring. + </p> + <p> + "How'd you know?" he shouted. + </p> + <p> + "Law! I've been visitin' over Hillside way!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, + comfortably. "You couldn't ha' been very smart not to thought o' that when + I mentioned my darter Lucy, an' where the childern went to school. No + smarter'n you was to depend on that old wooden button! I know all about + that drunken scrape. But the queerest part on't was—Solomon Ray + didn't die!" + </p> + <p> + "Didn't die!" the words halted, and he dragged them forth. "Didn't die?" + </p> + <p> + "Law, no! you can't kill a Ray! They brought him to, an' fixed him up in + good shape. I guess you mellered him some, but he's more scairt than hurt. + He won't prosecute. You needn't be afraid. He said he dared you to it. + There, there now! I wouldn't. My sake alive! le' me git a light!" + </p> + <p> + For the stranger sat with his head bowed on the table, and he trembled + like a child. + </p> + <p> + Next morning at eight o'clock, Mrs. Wadleigh was standing at the door, in + the sparkling light, giving her last motherly injunction to the departing + guest. + </p> + <p> + "You know where the depot is? An' it's the nine o'clock train you've got + to take. An' you remember what I said about hayin' time. If you don't have + no work by the middle o' May, you drop me a line, an' perhaps I can take + you an' your wife, too; Lucy's childern al'ays make a sight o' work. You + keep that bill safe, an'—Here, wait a minute! You might stop at + Cyrus Pendleton's—it's the fust house arter you pass; the corner—an' + ask 'em to put a sparerib an' a pat o' butter into the sleigh, an' ride + over here to dinner. You tell 'em I'm as much obleeged to 'em for sendin' + over last night to see if I was alive, as if I hadn't been so dead with + sleep I couldn't say so. Good-bye! Now, you mind you keep tight hold o' + that bill, an', spend it prudent!" + </p> + <p> + "Is Kelup Rivers comin' over here to-night?" suddenly asked Aunt Melissa + Adams, peering over her gold-bowed glasses, and fixing her small shrewd + eyes sharply upon her niece. + </p> + <p> + Amanda did not look up from her fine hemming, but her thin hand trembled + almost imperceptibly, and she gave a little start, as if such attacks were + not altogether unexpected. + </p> + <p> + "I don't know," she answered, in a low tone. + </p> + <p> + "Dunno! why don't ye know?" said her aunt, beginning to sway back and + forth in the old-fashioned rocking-chair, but not once dropping her eyes + from Amanda's face. "Don't he come every Saturday night?" + </p> + <p> + Amanda took another length, of thread, and this time her hand really + shook. + </p> + <p> + "I guess so," she answered. + </p> + <p> + "You guess so? Don't ye know? An' if he's come every Saturday night for + fifteen year, ain't he comin' to-night? I dunno what makes you act as if + you wa'n't sure whether your soul's your own, 'Mandy Green. My dander + al'ays rises when I ask you a civil question an' you put on that look." + </p> + <p> + Amanda bent more closely over her sewing. She was a woman of thirty-five, + with a pathetically slender figure, thin blond hair painstakingly crimped, + and anxious blue eyes. Something deprecating lay in her expression; her + days had been uncomplainingly sacrificed to the comfort of those she + loved, and the desire of peace and good-will had crept into her face and + stayed there. Her mother, who looked even slighter than she, and whose + cheeks were puckered by wrinkles, sat by the window watching the two with + a smile of empty content. Old Lady Green had lost her mind, said the + neighbors; but she was sufficiently like her former self to be a source of + unspeakable joy and comfort to Amanda, who nursed and petted her as if + their positions were reversed, and protected her from the blunt criticism + of the literal-tongued neighborhood with a reverential awe belonging to + the old days when the fifth commandment was written and obeyed. + </p> + <p> + "Gold-bowed," said Mrs. Green, with a look of unalloyed delight, pointing + to her sister-in-law's spectacles; and Aunt Melissa repeated indulgently,— + </p> + <p> + "Yes, yes, gold-bowed. I'll let you take 'em a spell, arter I've set my + heel. It'll please her, poor creatur'!" she added, in an audible aside to + Amanda. Since the time when Mrs. Green's wits had ceased to work normally, + she had treated her sympathetically, but from a lofty eminence. Aunt + Melissa was perhaps too prosperous. She sat there, swaying back and forth, + in her thin black silk trimmed with narrow rows of velvet, her heavy chin + sunk upon a broad collar, worked in her youth, and she seemed to Mrs. + Green a vision of majesty and delight, but to Amanda a virtuous censor, + necessarily to be obeyed, yet whose presence made the summer day + intolerable. Even her purple cap-ribbons bespoke terror to the evil-doer, + and her heavy face was set, as a judgment, toward the doom of the man who + knew not how to account for his actions. She began speaking again, and + Amanda involuntarily gave a little start, as at a lightning flash. + </p> + <p> + "I says to myself when I drove off, this mornin': 'I'll have a little talk + with 'Mandy. I don' go there to spend a day more'n four times a year, an' + like as not she'll be glad to have somebody to speak to, seen' 's her + mother's how she is.'" + </p> + <p> + Amanda gave a quick look at Mrs. Green; but the old lady was busily + pleating the hem of her apron and then smoothing it out again. Aunt + Melissa rocked, and went on:— + </p> + <p> + "I says to myself: 'Here they let Kelup carry on the farm at the halves, + an' go racin' an' trottin' from the other place over here day in an' day + out. An' when his Uncle Nat died, two year ago, then was the time for him + to come over here an' marry 'Mandy an' carry on the farm. But no, he'd + rather hang round the old place, an' sleep in the ell-chamber, an' do + their chores for his board, an' keep on a-runnin' over here.' An' when + young Nat married, I says to myself, 'That'll make him speak.' But it + didn't—an' you 're a laughin'-stock, 'Mandy Green, if ever there was + one. Every time the neighbors see him steppin' by Saturday nights, all + fixed up, with that brown coat on he's had sence the year one, they have + suthin' to say, 'Goin' over to 'Mandy's,' that's what they say. An' on'y + last Saturday one on 'em hollered out to me, when I was pickin' a mess o' + pease for Sunday, 'Wonder what 'Mandy'll answer when he gits round to + askin' of her?' I hadn't a word to say. 'You better go to <i>him</i>,' + says I, at last." + </p> + <p> + Amanda had put down her sewing in her lap, and was looking steadfastly out + of the window, with eyes brimmed by two angry tears. Once she wiped them + with a furtive movement of the white garment in her lap; her cheeks were + crimson. Aunt Melissa had lashed herself into a cumulative passion of + words. + </p> + <p> + "An' I says to myself, 'If there ain't nobody else to speak to 'Mandy, I + will,' I says, when I was combin' my hair this mornin'. 'She 'ain't got no + mother,' I says, 'nor as good as none, an' if she 'ain't spunk enough to + look out for herself, somebody's got to look out for her.' An' then it all + come over me—I'd speak to Kelup himself, an' bein' Saturday night, I + knew I should ketch him here." + </p> + <p> + "O Aunt Melissa!" gasped Amanda, "you wouldn't do that!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I would, too!" asserted Aunt Melissa, setting her firm lips. "You + see if I don't, an' afore another night goes over my head!" + </p> + <p> + But while Amanda was looking at her, paralyzed with the certainty that no + mortal aid could save her from this dire extremity, there came an + unexpected diversion. Old Lady Green spoke out clearly and decidedly from + her corner, in so rational a voice that it seemed like one calling from + the dead. + </p> + <p> + "'Mandy, what be you cryin' for? You come here an' tell me what 'tis, an' + I'll see to't. You'll spile your eyes, 'Mandy, if you take on so." + </p> + <p> + "There, there, ma'am! 'tain't anything," said Amanda, hurrying over to her + chair and patting her on the shoulder. "We was just havin' a little spat,—Aunt + Melissa an' me; but we've got all over it. Don't you want to knit on your + garter a little while now?" + </p> + <p> + But the old lady kept her glazed eyes fixed on Amanda's face. + </p> + <p> + "Be you well to-day, 'Mandy?" she said, wistfully. "If you ain't well, you + must take suthin'." + </p> + <p> + "There, there! don't you make a to-do, an' she'll come round all right," + said Aunt Melissa, moving her chair about so that it faced the old lady. + "I'll tell her suthin' to take up her mind a little." And she continued, + in the loud voice which was her concession to Mrs. Green's feebleness of + intellect, "They've got a boarder over to the Blaisdells'." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Green sat up straight in her chair, smoothed her apron, and looked at + her sister with grateful appreciation. + </p> + <p> + "Do tell!" she said, primly. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, they have. Name's Chapman. They thought he was a book agent fust. + But he's buyin' up old dishes an' all matter o' truck. He wanted my + andirons, an' I told him if I hadn't got a son in a Boston store, he might + ha' come round me, but I know the vally o' things now. You don't want to + sell them blue coverlids o' yourn, do ye?" + </p> + <p> + Aunt Melissa sometimes asked the old lady questions from a sense of the + requirements of conversation, and she was invariably startled when they + elicited an answer. + </p> + <p> + "Them coverlids I wove myself, fifty-five years ago come next spring," + said Mrs. Green, firmly. "Sally Ann Mason an' me used to set up till the + clock struck twelve that year, spinnin' an' weavin'. Then we had a cup or + two o' green tea, an' went to bed." + </p> + <p> + "Well, you wove 'em, an' you don't want to sell 'em," said Aunt Melissa, + her eyes on her work. "If you do, 'Lijah he'll take 'em right up to Boston + for you, an' I warrant he'll git you a new white spread for every one on + 'em." + </p> + <p> + "That was the year afore I was married," continued Old Lady Green. "I had + a set o' white chiny with lavender sprigs, an' my dress was changeable. He + had a flowered weskit. 'Mandy, you go into the clo'es-press in my bedroom + an' git out that weskit, an' some o' them quilts, an' my M's an' O's + table-cloths." + </p> + <p> + Amanda rose and hurried into the bedroom, in spite of Aunt Melissa's + whispered comment: "What makes you go to overhaulin' things? She'll forgit + it in a minute." + </p> + <p> + While she was absent, a smart wagon drove up to the gate, and a young man + alighted from it, hitched his horse, and knocked at the front door. Aunt + Melissa saw him coming, and peered at him over her glasses with an + unrecognizing stare. + </p> + <p> + "'Mandy!" she called, "'Mandy, here's a pedler or suthin'! If he's got any + essences, you ask him for a little bottle o' pep'mint." + </p> + <p> + Amanda dropped the pile of coverlets on the sofa, and went to the front + door. Presently she reappeared, and with her, smoothly talking her down, + came the young man. His eyes lighted first on the coverlets, with a look + of cheerful satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + "Got all ready for me, didn't you?" he asked, briskly. "Heard I was + coming, I guess." + </p> + <p> + He was a man of an alert Yankee type, with waxed blond mustache and + eye-glasses; he was evidently to be classed among those who have exchanged + their country honesty for a veneer of city knowingness. + </p> + <p> + "For the land's sake!" ejaculated Aunt Melissa, as soon as she had him at + short range, "you're the one down to Blaisdell's that's buyin' up all the + old truck in the neighborhood. Well, you won't git my andirons!" + </p> + <p> + He had begun to unfold the blue coverlets and examine them with a + practised eye, while Amanda stood by, painfully conscious that some + decisive action might be required of her; and her mother sat watching the + triumph of her quilts in pleased importance. + </p> + <p> + "They ain't worth much," he said, dropping them, with a conclusive air. + "Fact is, they ain't worth anything, unless any body's got a fancy for + such old stuff. I'll tell you what, I'll give you fifty cents apiece for + the lot! How many are there here—four? Two dollars, then." + </p> + <p> + Amanda took a hasty step forward. + </p> + <p> + "But we don't want to sell our coverlids!" she said, indignantly, casting + an appealing glance at Aunt Melissa. + </p> + <p> + "I guess they don't want to git rid on 'em," said that lady, "'specially + at such a price. They're wuth more 'n that to cover up the squashes when + the frost comes." + </p> + <p> + "Mother wove 'em herself," exclaimed Amanda, irrelevantly. It began to + seem to her as if the invader might pack up her mother's treasures and + walk off with them. + </p> + <p> + "Well, then, I s'pose they're hers to do as she likes with?" he said, + pleasantly, tipping back, in his chair, and beginning to pare his nails + with an air of nicety that fascinated Amanda into watching him. "They're + hers, I s'pose?" he continued, looking suddenly and keenly up at her. + </p> + <p> + "Why, yes," she answered, "they're mother's, but she don't want to sell. + She sets by 'em." + </p> + <p> + "Just like me, for all the world," owned the stranger, "Now there's plenty + of folks that wouldn't care a Hannah Cook about such old truck, but it + just hits me in the right spot. Mother's doughnuts, mother's mince-pies, I + say! Can't improve on <i>them</i>! And when my wife and I bought our + little place, I said to her, 'We'll have it all furnished with + old-fashioned goods.' And here I am, taking, time away from my business, + riding round the country, and paying good money for what's no use to + anybody but me." + </p> + <p> + "What is your business?" interrupted Aunt Melissa. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, insurance—a little of everything—Jack-of-all-trades!" + Then he turned to Old Mrs. Green, and asked, abruptly, "What'll you take + for that clock?" + </p> + <p> + The old lady followed his alert forefinger until her eyes rested on the + tall eight-day clock in the corner. She straightened herself in her chair, + and spoke with pride:— + </p> + <p> + "That was Jonathan's gre't-uncle Samwell's. He wound it every Sunday + night, reg'lar as the day come round. I've rubbed that case up till I + sweat like rain. 'Mandy she rubs it now." + </p> + <p> + "Well, what'll you take?" persisted he, while Amanda, in wordless protest, + stepped in front of the clock. "Five dollars?" + </p> + <p> + "Five dollars," repeated the old lady, lapsing into senseless iteration. + "Yes, five dollars." + </p> + <p> + But Aunt Melissa came to the rescue. + </p> + <p> + "Five dollars for that clock?" she repeated, winding her ball, and running + the needles into it with a conclusive stab. "Well, I guess there ain't any + eight-day clocks goin' out o' <i>this</i> house for five dollars, if they + go at all! 'Mandy, why don't you speak up, an' not stand there like a + chicken with the pip?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, all right, all right!" said the visitor, shutting his knife with a + snap, and getting briskly on his feet. "I don't care much about buying. + That ain't a particularly good style of clock, anyway. But I like old + things. I may drop in again, just to take a look at 'em. I suppose you're + always at home?" he said to Amanda, with his hand on the door. + </p> + <p> + "Yes; but sometimes I go to Sudleigh with butter. I go Monday afternoons + most always, after washin'." + </p> + <p> + With a cheerful good-day he was gone, and Amanda drew a long breath of + relief. + </p> + <p> + "Well, some folks have got enough brass to line a kittle," said Aunt + Melissa, carefully folding her knitting-work in a large silk handkerchief. + "'Mandy, you'll have to git supper a little earlier'n common for me. I + told Hiram to come by half arter six. Do you s'pose Kelup'll be round by + that time? I'll wait all night afore I'll give up seein' him." + </p> + <p> + "I don't know, Aunt Melissa," said Amanda, nervously clearing the table of + its pile of snowy cloth, and taking a flying glance from the window. She + looked like a harassed animal, hunted beyond its endurance; but suddenly a + strange light of determination flashed into her face. "Should you just as + lieves set the table," she asked, in a tone of guilty consciousness, + "while I start the kitchen fire? You know where things are." Hardly + waiting for an assent, she fled from the room, and once in the kitchen, + laid the fire in haste, with a glance from the window to accompany every + movement. Presently, by a little path through the field, came a stocky man + in blue overalls and the upper garment known as a jumper. He was bound for + the pigpen in the rear of the barn; and there Amanda flew to meet him, + stopping only to throw an apron over her head. They met at the door. He + was a fresh-colored man, with honest brown eyes and a ring of whiskers + under the chin. He had a way of blushing, and when Amanda came upon him + thus unannounced, he colored to the eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Why, you're all out o' breath!" he said, in slow alarms. + </p> + <p> + "O Caleb!" she cried, looking at him with imploring eyes. "I'll feed the + pigs to-night." + </p> + <p> + Caleb regarded her in dull wonderment. Then he set down the pail he had + taken. + </p> + <p> + "Ain't there any taters to bile?" he asked, solving the difficulty in his + own way; "or 'ain't you skimmed the milk? I'd jest as soon wait." + </p> + <p> + "You better not wait," answered Amanda, almost passionately, her thin hair + blowing about her temples. "You better go right back. I'd ruther do it + myself; I'd a good deal ruther." + </p> + <p> + Caleb turned about. He took a few steps, then stopped, and called + hesitatingly over his shoulder, "I thought maybe I'd come an' set a spell + to-night." + </p> + <p> + Then, indeed, Amanda felt her resolution, crack and quiver. "I guess you + better come some other night," she said, in a steady voice, though her + face was wet with tears. And Caleb walked away, never once looking back. + Amanda stayed only to wipe her eyes, saying meanwhile to her sorry self, + "Oh, I dunno how I can get along! I dunno!" Then she hurried back to the + house, to find the kettle merrily singing, and Aunt Melissa standing at + the kitchen cupboard, looking critically up and down the shelves. + </p> + <p> + "If you've got two sets o' them little gem-pans, you might lend me one," + she remarked; and Amanda agreed, not knowing what she gave. + </p> + <p> + The supper was eaten and the dishes were washed, Aunt Melissa meantime + keeping a strict watch from the window. + </p> + <p> + "Is it time for Kelup?" she asked, again and again; and finally she + confronted the guilty Amanda with the challenge, "Do you think Kelup ain't + comin'?" + </p> + <p> + "I—guess not," quavered Amanda, her cheeks scarlet, and her small, + pathetic hands trembling. She was not more used to <i>finesse</i> than to + heroic action. + </p> + <p> + "Do you s'pose there's any on 'em sick down to young Nat's?" asked Aunt + Melissa; and Amanda was obliged to take recourse again to her shielding "I + guess not." But at length Uncle Hiram drove up in the comfortable + carry-all; and though his determined spouse detained him more than + three-quarters of an hour, sitting beside him like a portly Rhadamanthus, + and scanning the horizon for the Caleb who never came, he finally + rebelled, shook the reins, and drove off, Aunt Melissa meantime screaming + over her shoulder certain vigorous declarations, which evidently began + with the phrase, "You tell Kelup—" + </p> + <p> + Then Amanda went into the house, and sat down by the window in the + gathering dusk, surveying the wreckage of her dream. The dream was even + more precious in that it had grown so old. Caleb was a part of her + every-day life, and for fifteen years Saturday had brought a little + festival, wherein the commonplace man with brown eyes had been + high-priest. He would not come to-night. Perhaps he never would come + again. She knew what it was to feel widowed. + </p> + <p> + Sunday passed; and though Caleb fed the pigs and did the barn-work as + usual, he spoke but briefly. Even in his customary salutation of "How + dee?" Amanda detected a change of tone, and thereafter took flight + whenever she heard his step at the kitchen door. So Monday forenoon + passed; Caleb brought water for her tubs and put out her clothes-line, but + they had hardly spoken. The intangible monster of a misunderstanding had + crept between them. But when at noon he asked as usual, though without + looking at her, "Goin' to Sudleigh with the butter to-day?" Amanda had + reached the limit of her endurance. It seemed to her that she could no + longer bear this formal travesty of their old relations, and she answered + in haste,— + </p> + <p> + "No, I guess not." + </p> + <p> + "Then you don't want I should set with your mother?" + </p> + <p> + "No!" And again Caleb turned away, and plodded soberly off to young Nat's. + </p> + <p> + "I guess I must be crazy," groaned poor Amanda, as she changed her + washing-dress for her brown cashmere. "The butter's got to go, an' now I + shall have to harness, an' leave ma'am alone. Oh, I wish Aunt Melissa'd + never darkened these doors!" + </p> + <p> + Everything went wrong with Amanda, that day. The old horse objected to the + bits, and occupied twenty minutes in exasperating protest; the wheels had + to be greased, and she lost a butter-napkin in the well. Finally, + breathless with exertion, she went in to bid her mother good-by, and see + that the matches were hidden and the cellar door fastened. + </p> + <p> + "Now, ma'am," she said, standing over the little old woman and speaking + with great distinctness, "don't you touch the stove, will you? You jest + set right here in your chair till I come back, an' I'll bring you a good + parcel o' pep'-mints. Here's your garter to knit on, an' here's the + almanac. Don't you stir now till I come." + </p> + <p> + And so, with many misgivings, she drove away. + </p> + <p> + When, Amanda came back, she did not stay to unharness, but hurried up to + the kitchen door, and called, "You all right, ma'am?" There was no answer, + and she stepped hastily across the floor. As she opened the sitting-room + door, a low moaning struck her ear. The old lady sat huddled together in, + her chair, groaning at intervals, and looking fixedly at the corner of the + room. + </p> + <p> + "O ma'am, what is it? Where be you hurt?" cried Amanda, possessed by an + anguish of self-reproach. But the old lady only continued her moaning; and + then it was that Amanda noticed her shrivelled and shaking fingers tightly + clasped upon a roll of money in her lap. + </p> + <p> + "Why, ma'am, what you got?" she cried; but even as she spoke, the + explanation flashed upon her, and she looked up at the corner of the room. + The eight-day clock was gone. + </p> + <p> + "Here, ma'am, you let me have it," she said, soothingly; and by dint of + further coaxing, she pulled the money from the old lady's tense fingers. + There were nine dollars in crisp new bills. Amanda sat looking at them in + unbelief and misery. + </p> + <p> + "O my!" she whispered, at length, "what a world this is! Ma'am, did you + tell him he might have 'em?" + </p> + <p> + "I dunno what Jonathan'll do without that clock," moaned the old lady. "I + see it carried off myself." + </p> + <p> + "Did you tell him he might?" cried Amanda, loudly. + </p> + <p> + "I dunno but I did, but I never'd ha' thought he'd ha' done it. I dunno + what time 'tis now;" and she continued her low-voiced lamenting. + </p> + <p> + "O my Lord!" uttered Amanda, under her breath. Then she roused herself to + the present exigency of comfort. "You come an' set in the kitchen a + spell," she said, coaxingly, "an' I'll go an' get the things back." + </p> + <p> + Old Lady Green looked at her with that unquestioning trust which was the + most pathetic accompaniment of her state. "You'll git 'em back, 'Mandy, + won't ye?" she repeated, smiling a little and wiping her eyes. "That's a + good gal! So't we can tell what time 'tis." + </p> + <p> + Amanda led her into the kitchen, and established her by the window. She + shut the door of the denuded sitting-room, and, giving her courage no time + to cool, ran across lots to the Blaisdells', the hated money clasped + tightly in her hand. The family was at supper, and the stranger with them, + when she walked in at the kitchen door. She hurried up to her enemy, and + laid the little roll of bills by his plate. Her cheeks were scarlet, her + thin hair-flying. + </p> + <p> + "Here's your money," she said, in a strained, high voice, "an' I want our + things. You hadn't ought to gone over there an' talked over an old lady + that—that—" + </p> + <p> + There she stopped. Amanda had never yet acknowledged that her mother was + not in her "perfect mind." Chapman took out a long pocket-book, and for a + moment her courage stood at flood-tide; she thought he was about to accept + the money and put it away. But no! He produced a slip of white paper and + held it up before her. She bent forward and examined it,—a receipt + signed by her mother's shaking hand. + </p> + <p> + "But it ain't right!" she cried, helpless in her dismay. "Cap'n Jabez, you + speak to him! You know how 'tis about mother! She wouldn't any more ha' + sold that clock than she'd ha' sold—me!" + </p> + <p> + Captain Jabez looked at his plate in uncomfortable silence. He was a just + man, but he hated to interfere. + </p> + <p> + "Well, there!" he said, at length, pushing his chair back to leave the + table. "It don't seem jestly right to me, but then he's got the resate, + an' your mother signed it—an' there 'tis!" + </p> + <p> + "An' you won't do anything?" cried Amanda, passionately, turning back to + the stranger. "You mean to keep them things?" + </p> + <p> + He was honestly sorry for her, as the business man for the sentimentalist, + but he had made a good bargain, and he held it sacred. + </p> + <p> + "I declare, I wish it hadn't happened so," he said, good-naturedly. "But + the old lady'll get over it. You buy her a nice bright little nickel clock + that'll strike the half-hours, and she'll be tickled to death to watch + it." + </p> + <p> + Amanda turned away and walked out of the house. + </p> + <p> + "Here," called Chapman, "come back and get your money!" But she hurried + on. "Well, I'll leave it with Captain Jabez," he called again, "and you + can come over and get it. I'm going in the morning, early." + </p> + <p> + Amanda was passing the barn, and there, through the open door, she saw the + old clock pathetically loaded on the light wagon, protected by burlap, and + tied with ropes. The coverlets lay beside it. A sob rose in her throat, + but her eyes were dry, and she hurried across lots home. At the back door + she found Caleb unharnessing the horse. She had forgotten their + misunderstanding in the present practical emergency. + </p> + <p> + "O Caleb," she began, before she had reached him, "ma'am's sold the clock + an' some coverlids, an' I can't get 'em back!" + </p> + <p> + "Cap'n Jabez said she had, this arternoon," said Caleb, slowly, tying a + trace. "I dunno's the old lady's to blame. Seem's if she hadn't ought to + be left alone." + </p> + <p> + "But how'm I goin' to get 'em back?" persisted Amanda, coming close to + him, her poor little face pinched and eager. "He jest showed me the + receipt, all signed. How'm I goin' to get the things, Caleb?" + </p> + <p> + "If he's got the receipt, an' the things an' all, an' she took the money, + I dunno's you can get 'em," said Caleb, "unless you could prove in a court + o' law that she wa'n't in her right mind. I dunno how that would work." + </p> + <p> + Amanda stood looking him in the face. For the first time in all her gentle + life she was questioning masculine superiority, and its present embodiment + in Caleb Rivers. + </p> + <p> + "Then you don't see's anything can be done?" she asked, steadily. + </p> + <p> + "Why, no," answered Caleb, still reflecting. "Not unless you should go to + law." + </p> + <p> + "You'd better give the pigs some shorts," said Amanda, abruptly. "I + sha'n't bile any taters, to-night." + </p> + <p> + She walked into the house; and as Caleb watched her, it crossed his mind + that she looked very tall. He had always thought of her as a little body. + </p> + <p> + Amanda set her lips, and went about her work. From time to time, she + smiled mechanically at her mother; and the old lady, forgetful of her + grief now that she was no longer reproached by the empty space on, the + wall, sat content and sleepy after her emotion. She was willing to go to + bed early; and when Amanda heard her breathing peacefully, she sat down by + the kitchen window to wait. The dusk came slowly, and the whippoorwill + sang from the deep woods behind the house. + </p> + <p> + That night at ten o'clock, Caleb Rivers was walking stolidly along the + country road, when his ear became aware of a strangely familiar sound,—a + steadily recurrent creak. It was advancing, though intermittently. + Sometimes it ceased altogether, as if the machinery stopped to rest, and + again it began fast and shrill. He rounded a bend of the road, and came + full upon a remarkable vision. Approaching him was a wheelbarrow, with a + long object balanced across it, and, wheeling it, walked a woman. Caleb + was nearly opposite her before his brain translated the scene. Then he + stopped short and opened his lips. + </p> + <p> + "'Mandy," he cried, "what under the heavens be you a-doin'?" + </p> + <p> + But Amanda did not pause. Whatever emotion the meeting caused in her was + swiftly vanquished, and she wheeled on. Caleb turned and walked by her + side. When he had recovered sufficiently from his surprise, he laid a hand + upon her wrist. + </p> + <p> + "You set it down, an' let me wheel a spell," he said. + </p> + <p> + But Amanda's small hands only grasped the handles more tightly, and she + went on. Caleb had never in his life seen a necessity for passionate + remonstrance, but now the moment had come. + </p> + <p> + "'Mandy," he kept repeating, at every step, "you give me holt o' them + handles! Why, 'Mandy, I should think you was crazy!" + </p> + <p> + At length, Amanda dropped the handles with a jerk, and turning about, sat + down on the edge of the wheelbarrow, evidently to keep the right of + possession. Then she began to speak in a high, strained voice, that echoed + sharply through the country stillness. + </p> + <p> + "If you've got to know, I'll tell you, an' you can be a witness, if you + want to. It won't do no hurt in a court o' law, because I shall tell + myself. I've gone an' got our clock an' our coverlids from where they were + stored in the Blaisdells' barn. The man's got his money, an' I've took our + things. That's all I've done, an' anybody can know it that's a mind to." + </p> + <p> + Then she rose, lifted the handles, and went on, panting. Caleb walked by + her side. + </p> + <p> + "But you ain't afraid o' me, 'Mandy?" he said, imploringly. "Jest you let + me wheel it, an' I won't say a word if I never set eyes on you ag'in. Jest + you let me wheel, 'Mandy." + </p> + <p> + "There ain't anybody goin' to touch a finger to it but me," said Amanda, + shortly. "If anybody's got to be sent to jail for it, it'll be me. I can't + talk no more. I 'ain't got any breath to spare." + </p> + <p> + But the silence of years had been broken, and Caleb kept on. + </p> + <p> + "Why, I was goin' over to Blaisdell's myself to buy 'em back. Here's my + wallet an' my bank-book. Don't that prove it? I was goin' to pay any price + he asked. I set an' mulled over it all the evenin'. It got late, an' then + I started. It al'ays has took me a good long spell to make up my mind to + things. I wa'n't to blame this arternoon because I couldn't tell what was + best to do all of a whew!" + </p> + <p> + At the beginning of this revelation, Amanda's shoulders twitched + eloquently, but she said nothing. She reached the gate of the farmyard, + and wheeled in, panting painfully as she ascended the rise of the grassy + driveway. She toiled round to the back door; and then Caleb saw that she + had prepared for her return by leaving the doors of the cellar-case open, + and laying down a board over the steps. She turned the wheelbarrow to + descend; and Caleb, seeing his opportunity, ran before to hold back its + weight. Amanda did not prevent him; she had no breath left for + remonstrance. When the clock was safely in the cellar, she went up the + steps again, hooked the bulkhead door, and turned, even in the darkness, + unerringly to the flight of stairs. + </p> + <p> + "You wait till I open the door into the kitchen," she said. "There's a + light up there." + </p> + <p> + And Caleb plodded up the stairs after her with his head down, amazed and + sorrowful. + </p> + <p> + "You can stay here," said Amanda, opening the outside door without looking + at him. "I'm goin' back to Cap'n Blaisdell's." + </p> + <p> + She hurried out into the moonlit path across lots, and Caleb followed. + They entered the yard, and Amanda walked up to the window belonging to the + best bedroom. It was wide open, and she rapped on it loudly, and then + turned her back. + </p> + <p> + "Hello!" came a sleepy voice from within. + </p> + <p> + "I've got to speak to you," called Amanda. "You needn't get up. Be you + awake?" + </p> + <p> + "I guess so," said the voice, this time several feet nearer the window. + "What's up?" + </p> + <p> + "I've been over an' got our clock an' the rest of our things," said + Amanda, steadily. "An', you've got your money. I've carried the things + home an' fastened 'em up. They're down cellar under the arch, an' I'm + goin' to set over 'em till I drop afore anybody lays a finger on 'em + again. An' you can go to law if you're a mind to; <i>but I've got our + things</i>!" + </p> + <p> + There was a silence. Amanda felt that the stranger's eyes were fastened + upon her back, and she tried not to tremble. Caleb knew they were, for he + and the man faced each other. + </p> + <p> + "Well, now, you know you've as good as stole my property," began Chapman; + but at that instant, Caleb's voice broke roughly upon the air. + </p> + <p> + "You say that ag'in," said he, "an' I'll horsewhip you within an inch of + your life. You touch them things ag'in, an' I'll break every bone in your + body. I dunno whose they be, accordin' to rights, but by gum!—" and + he stopped, for words will fail where a resolute heart need not. + </p> + <p> + There was again a silence, and the stranger spoke: "Well, well!" he said, + good-naturedly. "I guess we'll have to call it square. I don't often do + business this way; but if you'll let me alone, I'll let you alone. Good + luck to you!" + </p> + <p> + Amanda's heart melted. "You're real good!" she cried, and turned + impulsively; but when she faced the white-shirted form at the window, she + ejaculated, "Oh, my!" and fled precipitately round the corner of the + house. + </p> + <p> + Side by side, the two took their way across lots again. Amanda was shaking + all over, with weariness and emotion spent. Suddenly a strange sound at + her side startled her into scrutiny of Caleb's face. + </p> + <p> + "Why, Caleb Rivers!" she exclaimed, in amazement, "you ain't cryin'?" + </p> + <p> + "I dunno what I'm doin'," said Caleb, brushing off two big tears with his + jumper sleeve, "an' I don't much care. It ain't your harnessin' for + yourself an' feedin' the pigs, an' my not comin' Saturday night, but it's + seein' you wheelin' that great thing all alone. An' you're so little, + 'Mandy! I never thought much o' myself, an' it al'ays seemed kind o' queer + you could think anything <i>of</i> me; but I al'ays s'posed you'd let me + do the heft o' the work, an' not cast me off!" + </p> + <p> + "I 'ain't cast you off, Caleb," said Amanda, faintly, and in spite of + herself her slender figure turned slightly but still gratefully toward + him. And that instant, for the first time in all their lives, Caleb's arms + were upholding her, and Amanda had received her crown. Caleb had kissed + her. + </p> + <p> + "Say, 'Mandy," said he, when they parted, an hour later, by the syringa + bush at the back door, "the world won't come to an end if you don't iron + of a Tuesday. I was thinkin' we could ketch Passon True about ten o'clock + better'n we could in the arternoon." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JOINT OWNERS IN SPAIN. + </h2> + <p> + The Old Ladies' Home, much to the sorrow of its inmates, "set back from + the road." A long, box-bordered walk led from the great door down to the + old turnpike, and thickly bowering lilac-bushes forced the eye to play an + unsatisfied hide-and-seek with the view. The sequestered old ladies were + quite unreconciled to their leaf-hung outlook; active life was presumably + over for them, and all the more did they long to "see the passing" of the + little world which had usurped their places. The house itself was very + old, a stately, square structure, with pillars on either side of the door, + and a fanlight above. It had remained unpainted now for many years, and + had softened into a mellow lichen-gray, so harmonious and pleasing in the + midst of summer's vital green, that the few artists who ever heard of + Tiverton sought it out, to plant umbrella and easel in the garden, and + sketch the stately relic; photographers, also, made it one of their + accustomed haunts. Of the artists the old ladies disapproved, without a + dissenting voice. It seemed a "shaller" proceeding to sit out there in the + hot sun for no result save a wash of unreal colors on a white ground, or a + few hasty lines indicating no solid reality; but the photographers were + their constant delight, and they rejoiced in forming themselves into + groups upon, the green, to be "took" and carried away with the house. + </p> + <p> + One royal winter's day, there was a directors' meeting in the great south + room, the matron's parlor, a sprat bearing the happy charm of perfect + loyalty to the past, with its great fireplace, iron dogs and crane, its + settle and entrancing corner cupboards. The hard-working president of the + board was speaking hastily and from a full heart, conscious that another + instant's discussion might bring the tears to her eyes:— + </p> + <p> + "May I be allowed to say—it's irrelevant, I know, but I should like + the satisfaction of saying it—that this is enough to make one vow + never to have anything to do with an institution of any sort, from this + time forth for evermore?" + </p> + <p> + For the moment had apparently come when a chronic annoyance must be + recognized as unendurable. They had borne with the trial, inmates and + directors, quite as cheerfully as most ordinary people accept the + inevitable; but suddenly the tension had become too great, and the + universal patience snapped. Two of the old ladies, Mrs. Blair and Miss + Dyer, who were settled in the Home for life, and who, before going there, + had shown no special waywardness of temper, had proved utterly incapable + of living in peace with any available human being; and as the Home had + insufficient accommodations, neither could be isolated to fight her "black + butterflies" alone. No inmate, though she were cousin to Hercules, could + be given a room to herself; and the effect of this dual system on these + two, possibly the most eccentric of the number, had proved disastrous in + the extreme. Each had, in her own favorite fashion, "kicked over the + traces," as the matron's son said in town-meeting (much to the joy of the + village fathers), and to such purpose that, to continue the light-minded + simile, very little harness was left to guide them withal. Mrs. Blair, + being "high sperited," like all the Coxes from whom she sprung, had now so + tyrannized over the last of her series of room-mates, so browbeaten and + intimidated her, that the latter had actually taken to her bed with a + slow-fever of discouragement, announcing that "she'd rather go to the + poor-farm and done with it than resk her life there another night; and + she'd like to know what had become of that hunderd dollars her nephew + Thomas paid down in bills to get her into the Home, for she'd be thankful + to them that laid it away so antic to hand it back afore another night + went over her head, so't she could board somewheres decent till 'twas + gone, and then starve if she'd got to!" + </p> + <p> + If Miss Sarah Ann Dyer, known also as a disturber of the public peace, + presented a less aggressive front to her kind, she was yet, in her own + way, a cross and a hindrance to their spiritual growth. She, poor woman, + lived in a scarcely varying state of hurt feeling; her tiny world seemed + to her one close federation, existing for the sole purpose of infringing + on her personal rights; and though she would not take the initiative in + battle, she lifted up her voice in aggrieved lamentation over the tragic + incidents decreed for her alone. She had perhaps never directly reproached + her own unhappy room-mate for selecting a comfortable chair, for wearing + squeaking shoes, or singing "Hearken, ye sprightly," somewhat early in the + morning, but she chanted those ills through all her waking hours in a + high, yet husky tone, broken by frequent sobs. And therefore, as a result + of these domestic whirlwinds and too stagnant pools, came the directors' + meeting, and the helpless protest of the exasperated president. The two + cases were discussed for an hour longer, in the dreary fashion pertaining + to a question which has long been supposed to have but one side; and then + it remained for Mrs. Mitchell, the new director, to cut the knot with the + energy of one to whom a difficulty is fresh. + </p> + <p> + "Has it ever occurred to you to put them together?" asked she. "They are + impossible people; so, naturally, you have selected the very mildest and + most Christian women to endure their nagging. They can't live with the + saints of the earth. Experience has proved that. Put them into one room, + and let them fight it out together." + </p> + <p> + The motion was passed with something of that awe ever attending a + Napoleonic decree, and passed, too, with the utmost good-breeding; for + nobody mentioned the Kilkenny cats. The matron compressed her lips and + lifted her brows, but said nothing; having exhausted her own resources, + she was the more willing to take the superior attitude of good-natured + scepticism. + </p> + <p> + The moving was speedily accomplished; and at ten o'clock, one morning, + Mrs. Blair was ushered into the room where her forced colleague sat by the + window, knitting. There the two were left alone. Miss Dyer looked up, and + then heaved a tempestuous sigh over her work, in the manner of one not + entirely surprised by its advent, but willing to suppress it, if such + alleviation might be. She was a thin, colorless woman, and infinitely + passive, save at those times when her nervous system conflicted with the + scheme of the universe. Not so Mrs. Blair. She had black eyes, "like live + coals," said her awed associates; and her skin was soft and white, albeit + wrinkled. One could even believe she had reigned a beauty, as the + tradition of the house declared. This morning, she held her head higher + than ever, and disdained expression except that of an occasional nasal + snort. She regarded the room with the air of an impartial though exacting + critic; two little beds covered with rising-sun quilts, two little pine + bureaus, two washstands. The sunshine lay upon the floor, and in that + radiant pathway Miss Dyer sat. + </p> + <p> + "If I'd ha' thought I should ha' come to this," began Mrs. Blair, in the + voice of one who speaks perforce after long sufferance, "I'd ha' died in + my tracks afore I'd left my comfortable home down in Tiverton Holler. + Story-'n'-a-half house, a good sullar, an' woods nigh-by full o' + sarsaparilla an' goldthread! I've moved more times in this God-forsaken + place than a Methodist preacher, fust one room an' then another; an' bad + is the best. It was poor pickin's enough afore, but this is the crowner!" + </p> + <p> + Miss Dyer said nothing, but two large tears rolled down and dropped on her + work. Mrs. Blair followed their course with gleaming eyes endowed with + such uncomfortable activity that they seemed to pounce with every glance. + </p> + <p> + "What under the sun be you carryin' on like that for?" she asked, giving + the handle of the water-pitcher an emphatic twitch to make it even with + the world. "You 'ain't lost nobody, have ye, sence I moved in here?" + </p> + <p> + Miss Dyer put aside her knitting with ostentatious abnegation, and began + rocking herself back and forth in her chair, which seemed not of itself to + sway fast enough, and Mrs. Blair's voice rose again, ever higher and more + metallic:— + </p> + <p> + "I dunno what you've got to complain of more'n the rest of us. Look at + that dress you've got on,—a good thick thibet, an' mine's a cheap, + sleazy alpaca they palmed off on me because they knew my eyesight ain't + what it was once. An' you're settin' right there in the sun, gittin' het + through, an' it's cold as a barn over here by the door. My land! if it + don't make me mad to see anybody without no more sperit than a wet rag! If + you've lost anybody, why don't ye say so? An' if it's a mad fit, speak out + an' say that! Give me anybody that's got a tongue in their head, <i>I</i> + say!" + </p> + <p> + But Miss Dyer, with an unnecessary display of effort, was hitching her + chair into the darkest corner of the room, the rockers hopelessly snarling + her yarn at every move. + </p> + <p> + "I'm sure I wouldn't keep the sun off'n anybody," she said, tearfully. "It + never come into my head to take it up, an' I don't claim no share of + anything. I guess, if the truth was known, 'twould be seen I'd been used + to a house lookin' south, an' the fore-room winders all of a glare o' + light, day in an' day out, an' Madeira vines climbin' over 'em, an' a + trellis by the front door; but that's all past an' gone, past an' gone! I + never was one to take more 'n belonged to me; an' I don't care who says + it, I never shall be. An' I'd hold to that, if 'twas the last word I had + to speak!" + </p> + <p> + This negative sort of retort had an enfeebling effect upon Mrs. Blair. + </p> + <p> + "My land!" she exclaimed, helplessly. "Talk about my tongue! Vinegar's + nothin' to cold molasses, if you've got to plough through it." + </p> + <p> + The other sighed, and leaned her head upon her hand in an attitude of + extreme dejection. Mrs. Blair eyed her with the exasperation of one whose + just challenge has been refused; she marched back and forth through the + room, now smoothing a fold of the counterpane, with vicious care, and + again pulling the braided rug to one side or the other, the while she + sought new fuel for her rage. Without, the sun was lighting snowy knoll + and hollow, and printing the fine-etched tracery of the trees against a + crystal sky. The road was not usually much frequented in winter time, but + just now it had been worn by the week's sledding into a shining track, and + several sleighs went jingling up and down. + </p> + <p> + Tiverton was seizing the opportunity of a perfect day and the best of + "going," and was taking its way to market. The trivial happenings of this + far-away world had thus far elicited no more than a passing glance from + Mrs. Blair; she was too absorbed in domestic warfare even to peer down + through the leafless lilac-boughs, in futile wonderment as to whose bells + they might be, ringing merrily past. On one journey about the room, + however, some chance arrested her gaze. She stopped, transfixed. + </p> + <p> + "Forever!" she cried. Her nervous, blue-veined hands clutched at her apron + and held it; she was motionless for a moment. Yet the picture without + would have been quite devoid of interest to the casual eye; it could have + borne little significance save to one who knew the inner life history of + the Tiverton Home, and thus might guess what slight events wrought all its + joy and pain. A young man had set up his camera at the end of the walk, + and thrown the cloth over his head, preparatory to taking the usual view + of the house. Mrs. Blair recovered from her temporary inaction. She rushed + to the window, and threw up the sash. Her husky voice broke strenuously + upon the stillness:— + </p> + <p> + "Here! you keep right where you be! I'm goin' to be took! You wait till I + come!" + </p> + <p> + She pulled down the window, and went in haste to the closet, in the excess + of her eagerness stumbling recklessly forward into its depths. + </p> + <p> + "Where's my bandbox?" Her voice came piercingly from her temporary + seclusion. "Where'd they put it? It ain't here in sight! My soul! where's + my bunnit?" + </p> + <p> + These were apostrophes thrown off in extremity of feeling; they were not + questions, and no listener, even with the most friendly disposition in the + world, need have assumed the necessity of answering. So, wrapped in + oblivion to all earthly considerations save that of her Own inward gloom, + the one person who might have responded merely swayed back and forth, in + martyrized silence. But no such spiritual withdrawal could insure her + safety. Mrs. Blair emerged from the closet, and darted across the room + with the energy of one stung by a new despair. She seemed about to fall + upon the neutral figure in the corner, but seized the chair-back instead, + and shook it with such angry vigor that Miss Dyer cowered down in no + simulated fright. + </p> + <p> + "Where's my green bandbox?'" The words were emphasized by cumulative + shakes, "Anybody that's took that away from me ought to be b'iled in ile! + Hangin''s too good for 'em, but le' me git my eye on 'em an' they shall + swing for 't! Yes, they shall, higher 'n Gil'roy's kite!" + </p> + <p> + The victim put both trembling hands to her ears. + </p> + <p> + "I ain't deef!" she wailed. + </p> + <p> + "Deef? I don't care whether you're deef or dumb, or whether you're + nummer'n a beetle! It's my bandbox I'm arter. Isr'el in Egypt! you might + grind some folks in a mortar an' you couldn't make 'em speak!" + </p> + <p> + It was of no use. Intimidation had been worse than hopeless; even bodily + force would not avail. She cast one lurid glance at the supine figure, and + gave up the quest in that direction as sheer waste of time. With new + determination, she again essayed the closet, tossing shoes and rubbers + behind her in an unsightly heap, quite heedless of the confusion of rights + and lefts. At last, in a dark corner, behind a blue chest, she came upon + her treasure. Too hurried now for reproaches, she drew it forth, and with + trembling fingers untied the strings. Casting aside the cover, she + produced a huge scoop bonnet of a long-past date, and setting it on her + head, with the same fevered haste, tied over it the long figured veil + destined always to make an inseparable part of her state array. She + snatched her stella shawl from the drawer, threw it over her shoulders, + and ran out of the room. + </p> + <p> + Miss Dyer was left quite bewildered by these erratic proceedings, but she + had no mind to question them; so many stories were rife in the Home of the + eccentricities embodied in the charitable phrase "Mis' Blair's way" that + she would scarcely have been amazed had her terrible room-mate chosen to + drive a coach and four up the chimney, or saddle the broom for a midnight + revel. She drew a long breath of relief at the bliss of solitude, closed + her eyes, and strove to regain the lost peace, which, as she vaguely + remembered, had belonged to her once in a shadowy past. + </p> + <p> + Silence had come, but not to reign. Back flew Mrs. Blair, like a + whirlwind. Her cheeks wore each a little hectic spot; her eyes were + flaming. The figured veil, swept rudely to one side, was borne backwards + on the wind of her coming, and her thin hair, even in those few seconds, + had become wildly disarranged. + </p> + <p> + "He's gone!" she announced, passionately. "He kep' right on while I was + findin' my bunnit. He come to take the house, an' he'd ha' took me an' + been glad. An' when I got that plaguy front door open, he was jest drivin' + away; an' I might ha' hollered till I was black in the face, an' then I + couldn't ha' made him hear." + </p> + <p> + "I dunno what to say, nor what not to," remarked Miss Dyer, to her corner. + "If I speak, I'm to blame; an' so I be if I keep still." + </p> + <p> + The other old lady had thrown herself into a chair, and was looking + wrathfully before her. + </p> + <p> + "It's the same man that come from Sudleigh last August," she said, + bitterly. "He took the house then, an' said he wanted another view when + the leaves was off; an' that time I was laid up with my stiff ankle, an' + didn't git into it, an' to-day my bunnit was hid, an' I lost it ag'in." + </p> + <p> + Her voice changed. To the listener, it took on an awful meaning. + </p> + <p> + "An' I should like to know whose fault it was. If them that owns the + winder, an' set by it till they see him comin', had spoke up an' said, + 'Mis' Blair, there's the photograph man. Don't you want to be took?' it + wouldn't ha' been too late! If anybody had answered a civil question, an' + said, 'Your bunnit-box sets there behind my blue chist,' it wouldn't ha' + been too late then! An' I 'ain't had my likeness took sence I was twenty + year old, an' went to Sudleigh Fair in my changeable <i>visite</i> an' + leghorn hat, an' Jonathan wore the brocaded weskit he stood up in, the + next week Thursday. It's enough to make a minister swear!" + </p> + <p> + Miss Dyer rocked back and forth. + </p> + <p> + "Dear me!" she wailed. "Dear me suz!" + </p> + <p> + The dinner-bell rang, creating a blessed diversion. Miss Blair, rendered + absent-minded by her grief, went to the table still in her bonnet and + veil; and this dramatic entrance gave rise to such morbid though + unexpressed curiosity that every one forbore, for a time, to wonder why + Miss Dyer did not appear. Later, however, when a tray was prepared and + sent up to her (according to the programme of her bad days), the general + commotion reached an almost unruly point, stimulated as it was by the + matron's son, who found an opportunity to whisper one garrulous old lady + that Miss Dyer had received bodily injury at the hands of her roommate, + and that Mrs. Blair had put on her bonnet to be ready for the sheriff when + he should arrive. This report, judiciously started, ran like prairie fire; + and the house was all the afternoon in a pleasant state of excitement. + Possibly the matron will never know why so many of the old ladies + promenaded the corridors from dinnertime until long after early + candlelight, while a few kept faithful yet agitated watch from the + windows. For interest was divided; some preferred to see the sheriff's + advent, and others found zest in the possibility of counting the groans of + the prostrate victim. + </p> + <p> + When Mrs. Blair returned to the stage of action, she was much refreshed by + her abundant meal and the strong tea which three times daily heartened her + for battle. She laid aside her bonnet, and carefully folded the veil. Then + she looked about her, and, persistently ignoring all the empty chairs, + fixed an annihilating gaze on one where the dinner-tray still remained. + </p> + <p> + "I s'pose there's no need o' my settin' down," she remarked, bitingly. + "It's all in the day's work. Some folks are waited on; some ain't. Some + have their victuals brought to 'em an' pushed under their noses, an' some + has to go to the table; when they're there, they can take it or leave it. + The quality can keep their waiters settin' round day in an' day out, + fillin' up every chair in the room. For my part, I should think they'd + have an extension table moved in, an' a snowdrop cloth over it!" + </p> + <p> + Miss Dyer had become comparatively placid, but now she gave way to tears. + </p> + <p> + "Anybody can move that waiter that's a mind to," she said, tremulously. "I + would myself, if I had the stren'th; but I 'ain't got it. I ain't a well + woman, an' I 'ain't been this twenty year. If old Dr. Parks was alive this + day, he'd say so. 'You 'ain't never had a chance,' he says to me. 'You've + been pull-hauled one way or another sence you was born.' An' he never knew + the wust on't, for the wust hadn't come." + </p> + <p> + "Humph!" It was a royal and explosive note. It represented scorn for which + Mrs. Blair could find no adequate utterance. She selected the straightest + chair in the room, ostentatiously turned its back to her enemy, and seated + herself. Then, taking out her knitting, she strove to keep silence; but + that was too heavy a task, and at last she broke forth, with renewed + bitterness,— + </p> + <p> + "To think of all the wood I've burnt up in my kitchen stove an' air-tight, + an' never thought nothin' of it! To think of all the wood there is now, + growin' an' rottin' from Dan to Beersheba, an' I can't lay my fingers on + it!" + </p> + <p> + "I dunno what you want o' wood. I'm sure this room's warm enough." + </p> + <p> + "You don't? Well, I'll tell ye. I want some two-inch boards, to nail up a + partition in the middle o' this room, same as Josh Marden done to spite + his wife. I don't want more'n my own, but I want it mine." + </p> + <p> + Miss Dyer groaned, and drew an uncertain hand across her forehead. + </p> + <p> + "You wouldn't have no gre't of an outlay for boards," she said, drearily. + "'Twouldn't have to be knee-high to keep me out. I'm no hand to go where I + ain't wanted; an' if I ever was, I guess I'm cured on't now." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blair dropped her knitting in her lap. For an instant, she sat there + motionless, in a growing rigidity; but light was dawning in her eyes. + Suddenly she came to her feet, and tossed her knitting on the bed. + </p> + <p> + "Where's that piece o' chalk you had when you marked out your + tumbler-quilt?" The words rang like a martial order. + </p> + <p> + Miss Dyer drew it forth from the ancient-looking bag, known as a cavo, + which was ever at her side. + </p> + <p> + "Here 'tis," she said, in her forlornest quaver. "I hope you won't do + nothin' out o' the way with it. I should hate to git into trouble here. I + ain't that kind." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blair was too excited to hear or heed her. She was briefly, + flashingly, taking in the possibilities of the room, her bright black eyes + darting here and there with fiery insistence. Suddenly she went to the + closet, and, diving to the bottom of a baggy pocket in her "t'other + dress," drew forth a ball of twine. She chalked it, still in delighted + haste, and forced one end upon her bewildered room-mate. + </p> + <p> + "You go out there to the middle square o' the front winder," she + commanded, "an' hold your end o' the string down on the floor. I'll snap + it." + </p> + <p> + Miss Dyer cast one despairing glance about her, and obeyed. + </p> + <p> + "Crazy!" she muttered. "Oh my land! she's crazy's a loon. I wisht Mis' + Mitchell'd pitch her tent here a spell!" + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Blair was following out her purpose in a manner exceedingly + methodical. Drawing out one bed, so that it stood directly opposite her + kneeling helper, she passed the cord about the leg of the bedstead and + made it fast; then, returning to the middle of the room, she snapped the + line triumphantly. A faint chalk-mark was left upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + "There!" she cried. "Leggo! Now, you gi' me the chalk, an' I'll go over it + an' make it whiter." + </p> + <p> + She knelt and chalked with the utmost absorption, crawling along on her + knees, quite heedless of the despised alpaca; and Miss Dyer, hovering in a + corner, timorously watched her. Mrs. Blair staggered to her feet, + entangled by her skirt, and pitching like a ship at sea. + </p> + <p> + "There!" she announced. "Now here's two rooms. The chalk-mark's the + partition. You can have the mornin' sun, for I'd jest as soon live by a + taller candle if I can have somethin' that's my own. I'll chalk a lane + into the closet, an' we'll both keep a right o' way there. Now I'm to + home, an' so be you. Don't you dast to speak a word to me unless you come + an' knock here on my headboard,—that's the front door,—an' I + won't to you. Well, if I ain't glad to be alone! I've hung my harp on a + willer long enough!" + </p> + <p> + It was some time before the true meaning of the new arrangement penetrated + Miss Dyer's slower intelligence; but presently she drew her chair nearer + the window and thought a little, chuckling as she did so. She, too, was + alone. + </p> + <p> + The sensation was new and very pleasant. Mrs. Blair went back and forth + through the closet-lane, putting her clothes away, with high good humor. + Once or twice she sang a little—Derby's Ram and Lord Lovel—in + a cracked voice. She was in love with solitude. + </p> + <p> + Just before tea, Mrs. Mitchell, in some trepidation, knocked at the door, + to see the fruits of contention present and to come. She had expected to + hear loud words; and the silence quite terrified her, emphasizing, as it + did, her own guilty sense of personal responsibility. Miss Dyer gave one + appealing look at Mrs. Blair, and then, with some indecision, went to open + the door, for the latch was in her house. + </p> + <p> + "Well, here you are, comfortably settled!" began Mrs. Mitchell. She had + the unmistakable tone of professional kindliness; yet it rang clear and + true. "May I come in?" + </p> + <p> + "Set right down here," answered Miss Dyer, drawing forward a chair. "I'm + real pleased to see ye." + </p> + <p> + "And how are you this afternoon?" This was addressed to the occupant of + the other house, who, quite oblivious to any alien presence, stood busily + rubbing the chalk-marks from her dress. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blair made no answer. She might have been stone deaf, and as dumb as + the hearthstone bricks. Mrs. Mitchell cast an alarmed glance at her + entertainer. + </p> + <p> + "Isn't she well?" she said, softly. + </p> + <p> + "It's a real pretty day, ain't it?" responded Miss Dyer. "If 'twas summer + time, I should think there'd be a sea turn afore night. I like a sea turn + myself. It smells jest like Old Boar's Head." + </p> + <p> + "I have brought you down some fruit." Mrs. Mitchell was still anxiously + observing the silent figure, now absorbed in an apparently futile search + in a brocaded work-bag. "Mrs. Blair, do you ever cut up bananas and + oranges together?" + </p> + <p> + No answer. The visitor rose, and unwittingly stepped across the dividing + line. + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Blair—" she began, but she got no further. + </p> + <p> + Her hostess turned upon her, in surprised welcome. + </p> + <p> + "Well, if it ain't Mis' Mitchell! I can't say I didn't expect you, for I + see you goin' into Miss Dyer's house not more'n two minutes ago. Seems to + me you make short calls. Now set right down here, where you can see out o' + the winder. That square's cracked, but I guess the directors'll put in + another." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mitchell was amazed, but entirely interested. It was many a long day + since any person, official or private, had met with cordiality from this + quarter. + </p> + <p> + "I hope you and our friend are going to enjoy your room together," she + essayed, with a hollow cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + "I expect to be as gay as a cricket," returned Mrs. Blair, innocently. + "An' I do trust I've got good neighbors. I like to keep to myself, but if + I've got a neighbor, I want her to be somebody you can depend upon." + </p> + <p> + "I'm sure Miss Dyer means to be very neighborly." The director turned, + with a smile, to include that lady in the conversation. But the local + deafness had engulfed her. She was sitting peacefully by the window, with + the air of one retired within herself, to think her own very remote + thoughts. The visitor mentally improvised a little theory, and it seemed + to fit the occasion. They had quarrelled, she thought, and each was + disturbed at any notice bestowed on the other. + </p> + <p> + "I have been wondering whether you would both like to go sleighing with me + some afternoon?" she ventured, with the humility so prone to assail + humankind in a frank and shrewish presence. "The roads are in wonderful + condition, and I don't believe you'd take cold. Do you know, I found + Grandmother Eaton's foot-warmers, the other day! I'll bring them along." + </p> + <p> + "Law! I'd go anywheres to git out o' here," said Mrs. Blair, ruthlessly. + "I dunno when I've set behind a horse, either. I guess the last time was + the day I rid up here for good, an' then I didn't feel much like lookin' + at outdoor. Well, I guess you <i>be</i> a new director, or you never'd ha' + thought on't!" + </p> + <p> + "How do you feel about it, Miss Dyer?" asked the visitor. "Will you go,—perhaps + on, Wednesday?" + </p> + <p> + The other householder moved uneasily. Her hands twitched at their + knitting; a flush came over her cheeks, and she cast a childishly + appealing glance at her neighbor across the chalkline. Her eyes were + filling fast with tears. "Save me!" her look seemed to entreat "Let me not + lose this happy fortune!" Mrs. Blair interpreted the message, and rose to + the occasion with the vigor of the intellectually great. + </p> + <p> + "Mis' Mitchell," she said, clearly, "I may be queer in my notions, but it + makes me as nervous as a witch to have anybody hollerin' out o' my + winders. I don't care whether it's company nor whether it's my own folks. + If you want to speak to Miss Dyer, you come along here after me,—don't + you hit the partition now!—right out o' my door an' into her'n. + Here, I'll knock! Miss Dyer, be you to home?" + </p> + <p> + The little old lady came forward, fluttering and radiant in the excess of + her relief. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I guess I be," she said, "an' all alone, too! I see you go by the + winder, an' I was in' hopes you'd come in!" + </p> + <p> + Then the situation dawned upon Mrs. Mitchell with an effect vastly + surprising to the two old pensioners. She turned from one to the other, + including them both in a look of warm loving-kindness. It was truly an + illumination. Hitherto, they had thought chiefly of her winter cloak and + nodding ostrich plume; now, at last, they saw her face, and read some part + of its message. + </p> + <p> + "You poor souls!" she cried. "Do you care so much as that? 'O you poor + souls!" + </p> + <p> + Miss Dyer fingered her apron and looked at the floor, but her companion + turned brusquely away, even though she trod upon the partition in her + haste. + </p> + <p> + "Law! it's nothin' to make such a handle of" she said. "Folks don't want + to be under each other's noses all the time. I dunno's anybody could stan' + it, unless 'twas an emmet. They seem to git along swarmin' round + together." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mitchell left the room abruptly. + </p> + <p> + "Wednesday or Thursday, then!" she called over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The next forenoon, Mrs. Blair made her neighbor a long visit. Both old + ladies had their knitting, and they sat peacefully swaying back and forth, + recalling times past, and occasionally alluding to their happy Wednesday. + </p> + <p> + "What I really come in for," said Mrs. Blair, finally, "was to ask if you + don't think both our settin'-rooms need new paper." + </p> + <p> + The other gave one bewildered glance about her. + </p> + <p> + "Why, 'tain't been on more 'n two weeks," she began; and then remembrance + awoke in her, and she stopped. It was not the scene of their refuge and + conflict that must be considered; it was the house of fancy built by each + unto herself. Invention did not come easily to her as yet, and she spoke + with some hesitation. + </p> + <p> + "I've had it in mind myself quite a spell, but somehow I 'ain't been able + to fix on the right sort o' paper." + </p> + <p> + "What do you say to a kind of a straw color, all lit up with tulips?" + inquired Mrs. Blair; triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + "Ain't that kind o' gay?" + </p> + <p> + "Gay? Well, you want it gay, don't ye? I dunno why folks seem to think + they've got to live in a hearse because they expect to ride in one! What + if we be gittin' on a little mite in years? We ain't underground yit, be + we? I see a real good ninepenny paper once, all covered over with green + brakes. I declare if 'twa'n't sweet pretty! Well, whether I paper or + whether I don't, I've got some thoughts of a magenta sofy. I'm tired to + death o' that old horsehair lounge that sets in my clock-room. Sometimes I + wish the moths would tackle it, but I guess they've got more sense. I've + al'ays said to myself I'd have a magenta sofy when I could git round to + it, and I dunno's I shall be any nearer to it than I be now." + </p> + <p> + "Well, you <i>are</i> tasty," said Miss Dyer, in some awe. "I dunno how + you come to think o' that!" + </p> + <p> + "Priest Rowe had one when I wa'n't more 'n twenty. Some o' his relations + give it to him (he married into the quality), an' I remember as if 'twas + yisterday what a tew there was over it. An' I said to myself then, if ever + I was prospered I'd have a magenta sofy. I 'ain't got to it till now, but + now I'll have it if I die for't." + </p> + <p> + "Well, I guess you're in the right on't." Miss Dyer spoke absently, + glancing from the window in growing trouble. "O Mis' Blair!" she + continued, with a sudden burst of confidence, "you don't think there's a + storm brewin', do you? If it snows Wednesday, I shall give up beat!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blair, in her turn, peered at the smiling sky. + </p> + <p> + "I hope you ain't one o' them kind that thinks every fair day's a weather + breeder," she said. "Law, no! I don't b'lieve it will storm; an' if it + does, why, there's other Wednesdays comin'!" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AT SUDLEIGH FAIR. + </h2> + <p> + Delilah Joyce was sitting on her front doorstone with a fine disregard of + the fact that her little clock had struck eight of the morning, while her + bed was still unmade. The Tiverton folk who disapproved of her + shiftlessness in letting the golden hours, run thus to waste, did + grudgingly commend her for airing well. Her bed might not even be spread + up till sundown, but the sheets were always hanging from her little side + window, in fine weather, flapping dazzlingly in the sun; and sometimes her + feather-bed lay, the whole day long, on the green slope outside, called by + Dilly her "spring," only because the snow melted first there on the + freedom days of the year. The new editor of the Sudleigh "Star," seeing + her slight, wiry figure struggling with the bed like a very little ant + under a caterpillar all too large, was once on the point of drawing up his + horse at her gate. He was a chivalrous fellow, and he wanted to help; but + Brad Freeman, hulking by with his gun at the moment, stopped him. + </p> + <p> + "That's only Dilly wrastlin' with, her bed," he called back, in the act of + stepping over the wall into the meadow. "'Twon't do no good to take holt + once, unless you're round here every mornin' 'bout the same time. Dilly'll + git the better on't. She al'ays does." So the editor laughed, put down + another Tiverton custom in his mental notebook, and drove on. + </p> + <p> + Dilly was a very little woman, with abnormally long and sinewy arms. Her + small, rather delicate face had a healthy coat of tan, and her iron-gray + hair was braided with scrupulous care. She resembled her own house to a + striking degree; she was fastidiously neat, but not in the least orderly. + The Tiverton housekeepers could not appreciate this attitude in reference + to the conventional world. It was all very well to keep the kitchen floor + scrubbed, but they did believe, also, in seeing the table properly set, + and in finishing the washing by eight o'clock on Monday morning. Now Dilly + seldom felt inclined to set any table at all. She was far more likely to + take her bread and milk under a tree; and as for washing, Thursday was as + good a day as any, she was wont to declare. Moreover, the tradition of + hanging garments on the line according to a severely classified system, + did not in the least appeal to her. + </p> + <p> + "I guess a petticoat'll dry jest as quick if it's hung 'side of a + nightgown," she told her critics, drily. "An' when you come to hangin' + stockin's by the pair, better separate 'em, I say! Like man an' wife! Give + 'em a vacation, once in a while, an' love'll live the longer!" + </p> + <p> + Dilly was thinking, this morning, of all the possibilities of the lovely, + shining day. So many delights lay open to her! She could take her luncheon + in her pocket, and go threading through the woods behind her house. She + could walk over to Pine Hollow, to see how the cones were coming on, and + perchance scrape together a basket of pine needles, to add to her winter's + kindling; or she might, if the world and the desires thereof assailed her, + visit Sudleigh Fair. Better still, she need account to nobody if she chose + to sit there on the doorstone, and let the hours go unregretted by. + Presently, her happy musing was broken by a ripple from the outer world. A + girl came briskly round the corner where the stone-wall lay hidden under a + wilderness of cinnamon rosebushes and blackberry vines,—Rosa Tolman, + dressed in white <i>piqué</i>, with a great leghorn hat over her curls. + The girl came hurrying up the path, with a rustle of starched petticoats, + and still Dilly kept her trance-like posture. + </p> + <p> + "I know who 'tis!" she announced, presently, in a declamatory voice. "It's + Rosy Tolman, an' she's dressed in white, with red roses, all complete, an' + she's goin' to Sudleigh Cattle-Show." + </p> + <p> + Rosa lost a shade of pink from her cheeks. Her round blue eyes widened, in + an unmistakable terror quite piteous to see. + </p> + <p> + "O Dilly!" she quavered, "how do you know such things? Why, you 'ain't + looked at me!" + </p> + <p> + Dilly opened her eyes, and chuckled in keen enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + "Bless ye!" she said, "I can't help imposin' on ye, no more 'n a cat could + help ketchin' a mouse, if't made a nest down her throat. Why, I see ye + comin' round the corner! But when folks thinks you're a witch, it ain't in + human natur' not to fool 'em. I <i>am</i> a witch, ain't I, dear? Now, + ain't I?" + </p> + <p> + Rosa's color had faltered back, but she still stood visibly in awe of her + old neighbor. + </p> + <p> + "Well," she owned, "Elvin Drew says you can see in the dark, but I don't + know's he means anything by it." + </p> + <p> + Again Dilly broke into laughter, rocking back and forth, in happy + abandonment. + </p> + <p> + "I can!" she cried, gleefully. "You tell him I can! An' when I can't, + folks are so neighborly they strike a light for me to see by. You tell + him! Well, now, what is it? You've come to ask suthin'. Out with it!" + </p> + <p> + "Father told me to come over, and see if you can't tell something about + our cows. They're all drying up, and he don't see any reason why." + </p> + <p> + Dilly nodded her head sagely. + </p> + <p> + "You'd better ha' come sooner," she announced. "You tell him he must drive + 'em to pastur' himself, an' go arter 'em, too." + </p> + <p> + "Why?" + </p> + <p> + "An' you tell him to give Davie a Saturday, here an' there, to go fishin' + in, an' not let him do so many chores. Now, you hear! Your father must + drive the cows, an' he must give Davie time to play a little, or there'll + be dark days comin', an' he won't be prepared for 'em." + </p> + <p> + "My!" exclaimed Rosa, blankly. "My! Ain't it queer! It kind o' scares me. + But, Dilly,"—she turned about, so that only one flushed cheek + remained visible,—"Dilly, 'ain't you got something to say to me? + We're going to be married next Tuesday, Elvin and me. It's all right, + ain't it?" + </p> + <p> + Dilly bent forward, and peered masterfully into her face. She took the + girl's plump pink handy and drew her forward. Rosa, as if compelled by + some unseen force, turned about, and allowed her frightened gaze to lie + ensnared by the witch's great black eyes. Dilly began, in a deep intense + voice, with the rhythm of the Methodist exhorter, though on a lower key,— + </p> + <p> + "Two years, that boy's been arter you. Two years, you trampled on him as + if he'd been the dust under your feet. He was poor an' strugglin'. He was + left with his mother to take care on, an' a mortgage to work off. An' then + his house burnt down, an' he got his insurance money; an' that minute, you + turned right round an' says, 'I'll have you.' An' now, you say, 'Is it all + right?' <i>Is</i> it right, Rosy Tolman? You tell <i>me</i>!" + </p> + <p> + Rosa was sobbing hysterically. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I wish you wouldn't scare me so!" she exclaimed, yet not for a moment + attempting to withdraw her hand, or turn aside her terrified gaze. "I wish + I never'd said one word!" + </p> + <p> + Dilly broke the spell as lightly as she had woven it. A smile passed over + her face, like a charm, dispelling all its prophetic fervor. + </p> + <p> + "There! there!" she said, dropping the girl's hand. "I thought I'd scare + ye! What's the use o' bein' a witch, if ye can't upset folks? Now don't + cry, an' git your cheeks all blotched up afore Elvin calls to fetch ye, + with that hired horse, an' take ye to the Cattle-Show! But don't ye forgit + what I say! You remember we ain't goin' to wait for the Day o' Judgment, + none on us. It comes every hour. If Gabriel was tootin', should you turn + fust to Elvin Drew, an' go up or down with him, wherever he was 'lected? + That's what you've got to think on; not your new hat nor your white <i>pique</i>. + (Didn't iron it under the overskirt, did ye? How'd I know? Law! how's a + witch know anything?) Now, you 'ain't opened your bundle, dear, have ye? + Raisin-cake in it, ain't there?" + </p> + <p> + Rosa bent suddenly forward, and placed the package in Dilly's lap. In + spite of the bright daylight all about her, she was frightened; if a cloud + had swept over, she must have screamed. + </p> + <p> + "I don't know how you found it out," she whispered, "but <i>'tis</i> + raisin-cake. Mother sent it. She knew I was going to ask you about the + cows. She said I was to tell you, too, there's some sickness over to + Sudleigh, and she thought you could go over there nussing, if you wanted + to." + </p> + <p> + "I 'ain't got time," said Dilly, placidly. "I give up nussin', two year + ago. I 'ain't got any time at all! Well, here they come, don't they? One + for me, an' one for you!" + </p> + <p> + A light wagon, driven rapidly round the corner, drew up at the gate. Elvin + Drew jumped down, and helped out his companion, a short, rather thickset + girl, with smooth, dark hair, honest eyes, and a sensitive mouth. She came + quickly up the path, after an embarrassed word of thanks to the young man. + </p> + <p> + "He took me in," she began, almost apologetically to Rosa, who surveyed + her with some haughtiness. "I was comin' up here to see Dilly, an' he + offered me a ride." + </p> + <p> + Rosa's color and spirits had returned, at the sight of her tangible ally + at the gate. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I guess I must be going," she said, airily. "Elvin won't want to + wait. Good-by, Dilly! I'll tell father. Good-by, Molly Drew!" + </p> + <p> + But Dilly followed her down to the road, where Elvin stood waiting with + the reins in his hands. He was a very blond young man, with curly hair, + and eyes honest in contour and clear of glance. Perhaps his coloring + impressed one with the fact that he should have looked very young; but his + face shrunk now behind a subtile veil of keen anxiety, of irritated + emotion, which were evidently quite foreign to him. Even a stranger, + looking at him, could hardly help suspecting an alien trouble grafted upon + a healthy stem. He gave Dilly a pleasant little nod, in the act of turning + eagerly to help Rosa into the wagon. But when he would have followed her, + Dilly laid a light but imperative hand on his arm. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you want your fortune told?" she asked, meaningly. "Here's the + witch all ready. Ain't it well for me I wa'n't born a hunderd year ago? + Shouldn't I ha' sizzled well? An' now, all there is to burn me is God + A'mighty's sunshine!" + </p> + <p> + Elvin laughed lightly. + </p> + <p> + "I guess I don't need any fortune," he said. "Mine looks pretty fair now. + I don't feel as if anybody'd better meddle with it." But he had not + withdrawn his arm, and his gaze still dwelt on hers. + </p> + <p> + "You know suthin' you don't mean to tell," said Dilly, speaking so rapidly + that although Rosa bent forward to listen, she caught only a word, here + and there. "You think you won't have to tell, but you will. God + A'mighty'll make you. You'll be a stranger among your own folks, an' a + wanderer on the earth; till you tell. There! go along! Go an' see the + punkins an' crazy-quilts!" + </p> + <p> + She withdrew her hand, and turned away. Elvin, his face suddenly blanched, + looked after her, fascinated, while she went quickly up the garden walk. + An impatient word from Rosa recalled him to himself, and he got heavily + into the wagon and drove on again. + </p> + <p> + When Dilly reached the steps where her new guest had seated herself, her + manner had quite changed. It breathed an open frankness, a sweet and + homely warmth which were very engaging. Molly spoke first. + </p> + <p> + "How pleased he is with her!" she said, dreamily. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," answered Dilly, "but to-day ain't tomorrer. They're both + light-complected. It's jest like patchwork. Put light an' dark together, I + say, or you won't git no figger. Here, le's have a mite o' cake! Mis' + Tolman's a proper good cook, if her childern <i>have</i> all turned out + ducks, an' took to the water. Every one on 'em's took back as much as + three generations for their noses an' tempers. Strange they had to go so + fur!" + </p> + <p> + She broke the rich brown loaf in the middle, and divided a piece with + Molly. Such were the habits calculated to irritate the conventionalities + of Tiverton against her. Who ever heard of breaking cake when one could go + into the house for a knife! They ate in silence, and the delights of the + summer day grew upon Molly as they never did save when she felt the + nearness of this queer little woman. Turn which side of her personality + she might toward you, Dilly could always bend you to her own train of + thought. + </p> + <p> + "I come down to talk things over," said Molly, at last, brushing the + crumbs of cake from her lap. "I've got a chance in the shoe-shop." + </p> + <p> + "Do tell! Well, ain't that complete? Don't you say one word, now! I know + how 'tis. You think how you'll have to give up the birds' singin', an' + your goin' into the woods arter groundpine, an' stay cooped up in a + boardin'-house to Sudleigh. I know how 'tis! But don't you fret. You come + right here an' stay Sundays, an' we'll eat up the woods an' drink up the + sky! There! It's better for ye, dear. Some folks are made to live in a + holler tree, like me; some ain't. You'll be better on't among folks." + </p> + <p> + Molly's eyes filled with tears. + </p> + <p> + "You've been real good to me," she said, simply. + </p> + <p> + "I wish I'd begun it afore," responded Dilly, with a quick upward lift of + her head, and her brightest smile. "You see I didn't know ye very well, + for all you'd lived with old Mis' Drew so many year. I 'ain't had much to + do with folks. I knew ye hadn't got nobody except her, but I knew, too, ye + were contented there as a cricket. But when she died, an' the house burnt + down, I begun to wonder what was goin' to become on ye." + </p> + <p> + Molly sat looking over at the pine woods, her lips compressed, her cheeks + slowly reddening. Finally she burst passionately forth,— + </p> + <p> + "Dilly, I'd like to know why I couldn't have got some rooms an' kep' house + for Elvin? His mother's my own aunt!" + </p> + <p> + "She wa'n't his mother, ye know. She was His stepmother, for all they set + so much by one Another. Folks would ha' talked, an' I guess Rosy wouldn't + ha' stood that, even afore they were engaged. Rosy may not like + corn-fodder herself, any more 'n t'other dog did, but she ain't goin' to + see other noses put into't without snappin' at 'em." + </p> + <p> + "Well, it's all over," said Molly, drearily. "It 'ain't been hard for me + stayin' round as I've done, an' sewin' for my board; but it's seemed + pretty tough to think of Elvin livin' in that little shanty of Caleb's an' + doin' for himself. I never could see why he didn't board somewheres + decent." + </p> + <p> + "Wants to save his six hunderd dollars, to go out West an' start in the + furniture business," said Dilly, succinctly. "Come, Molly, what say to + walkin' over to Sudleigh Cattle-Show?" + </p> + <p> + Molly threw aside her listless mood like a garment. + </p> + <p> + "Will you?" she cried. "Oh, I'd like to! You know I'm sewin' for Mis' Eli + Pike; an' they asked me to go, but I knew she'd fill up the seat so I + should crowd 'em out of house an' home. Will you, Dilly?" + </p> + <p> + "You wait till I git suthin' or other to put over my head," said Dilly, + rising with cheerful decision. "Here, you gi' me that cake! I'll tie it up + in a nice clean piece o' table-cloth, an' then we'll take along a few + eggs, so 't we can trade 'em off for bread an' cheese. You jest pull in my + sheets, an' shet the winder, while I do it. Like as not there'll be a + shower this arternoon." + </p> + <p> + When the little gate closed behind them, Molly felt eagerly excited, as, + if she were setting forth for a year's happy wandering. Dilly knew the + ways of the road as well as the wood. She was, as usual, in light marching + order, a handkerchief tied over her smooth braids; another, slung on a + stick over her shoulder, contained their luncheon and the eggs for barter. + All her movements were buoyant and free, like those of a healthy animal + let loose in pleasant pastures. She walked so lightly that the eggs in the + handkerchief were scarcely stirred. + </p> + <p> + "See that little swampy patch!" she said, stopping when they had rounded + the curve in the road. "A week or two ago, that was all alive with redbud + flowers. I dunno the right name on 'em, an' I don't care. Redbirds, I call + 'em. I went over there, one day, an' walked along between the hummocks, + spush! spush! You won't find a nicer feelin' than that, wherever ye go. + Take off your shoes an' stockin's, an' wade into a swamp! Warm, coarse + grass atop! Then warm, black mud, an' arter that, a layer all nice an' + cold that goes down to Chiny, fur's I know! That was the day I meant to + git some thoroughwort over there, to dry, but I looked at the redbird + flowers so long I didn't have time, an' I never've been sence." + </p> + <p> + Molly laughed out, with a pretty, free ripple in her voice. + </p> + <p> + "You're always sayin' that, Dilly! You never have time for anything but + doin' nothin'!" + </p> + <p> + A bright little sparkle came into Dilly's eyes, and she laughed, too. + </p> + <p> + "Why, that's what made me give' up nussin' two year ago," she said, + happily. "I wa'n't havin' no time at all. I couldn't live my proper life. + I al'ays knew I should come to that, so I'd raked an' scraped, an' put + into the bank, till I thought I'd got enough to buy me a mite o' flour + while I lived, an' a pine coffin arter I died; an' then I jest set up my + Ebenezer I'd be as free's a bird. Freer, I guess I be, for they have to + scratch pretty hard, come cold weather, an' I bake me a 'tater, an' then + go clippin' out over the crust, lookin' at the bare twigs. Oh, it's + complete! If I could live this way, I guess a thousand years'd be a mighty + small dose for me. Look at that goldenrod, over there by the stump! That's + the kind that's got the most smell." + </p> + <p> + Molly broke one of the curving plumes. + </p> + <p> + "I don't see as it smells at all," she said, still sniffing delicately. + </p> + <p> + "Le'me take it! Why, yes, it does, too! Everything smells <i>some</i>. + Oftentimes it's so faint it's more like a feelin' than a smell. But there! + you ain't a witch, as I be!" + </p> + <p> + "I wish you wouldn't say that!" put in Molly, courageously. "You make + people think you are." + </p> + <p> + "Law, then, let 'em!" said Dilly, with a kindly indulgence. "It don't do + them no hurt, an' it gives me more fun'n the county newspaper. They'd + ruther I'd say I was a witch'n tell 'em I've got four eyes an' eight ears + where they 'ain't but two. I tell ye, there's a good deal missed when ye + stay to home makin' pies, an' a good deal ye can learn if ye live + out-door. Why, there's Tolman's cows! He dunno why they dry up; but I do. + He, sends that little Davie with 'em, that don't have no proper playtime; + an' Davie gallops 'em all the way to pastur', so't he can have a minute to + fish in the brook. An' then he gallops 'em home ag'in, because he's stole + a piece out o' the arternoon. I ketched him down there by the brook, one + day, workin' away with a bent pin, an' the next mornin' I laid a fish-hook + on the rock, an' hid in the woods to see what he'd say. My! I 'guess Jonah + wa'n't more tickled when he set foot on dry land. Here comes the wagons! + There's the Poorhouse team fust, an' Sally Flint settin' up straighter 'n + a ramrod. An' there's Heman an' Roxy! She don't look a day older'n + twenty-five. Proper nice folks, all on 'em, but they make me kind o' + homesick jest because they <i>be</i> folks. They do look so sort o' common + in their bunnits an' veils, an' I keep thinkin' o' little four-legged + creatur's, all fur!" The Tiverton folk saluted them, always cordially, yet + each after his kind. They liked Dilly as a product all their own, but one + to be partaken of sparingly, like some wild, intoxicating root. + </p> + <p> + They loved her better at home, too, than at Sudleigh Fair. It was like a + betrayal of their fireside secrets, to see her there in her accustomed + garb; so slight a concession to propriety would have lain in her putting + on a bonnet and shawl! + </p> + <p> + As they neared Sudleigh town, the road grew populous with carriages and + farm-wagons, "step and step," not all from Tiverton way, but gathered in + from the roads converging here. Men were walking up and down the market + street, crying their whips, their toy balloons, and a multitude of cheaper + gimcracks. + </p> + <p> + "Forty miles from home! forty miles from home!" called one, more + imaginative than the rest. "And no place to lay my head! That's why I'm + selling these little whips here to-day, a stranger in a strange land. Buy + one! buy one! and the poor pilgrim'll have a supper and a bed! Keep your + money in your pocket, and he's a wanderer on the face of the earth!" + </p> + <p> + Dilly, the fearless in her chosen wilds, took a fold of Molly's dress, and + held it tight. + </p> + <p> + "You s'pose that's so?" she whispered. "Oh, dear! I 'ain't got a mite o' + money, on'y these six eggs. Oh, why didn't he stay to home, if he's so + possessed to sleep under cover? What does anybody leave their home <i>for</i>, + if they've got one?" + </p> + <p> + But Molly put up her head, and walked sturdily on. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you worry," she counselled, in an undertone. "It don't mean any + more 'n it does when folks say they're sellin' at a sacrifice. I guess + they expect to make enough, take it all together." + </p> + <p> + Dilly walked on, quite bewildered. She had lost her fine, joyous carriage; + her shoulders were bent, and her feet shuffled, in a discouraged fashion, + over the unlovely bricks. Molly kept the lead, with unconscious + superiority. + </p> + <p> + "Le's go into the store now," she said, "an' swap off the eggs. You'll be + joggled in this crowd, an' break 'em all to smash. Here, you le' me have + your handkerchief! I'll see to it all." She kept the handkerchief in her + hand, after their slight "tradin'" had been accomplished; and Dilly, too + dispirited to offer a word, walked meekly about after her. + </p> + <p> + The Fair was held, according to ancient custom, in the town-hall, of which + the upper story had long been given over to Sudleigh Academy. Behind the + hall lay an enormous field, roped in now, and provided with pens and + stalls, where a great assemblage of live-stock lowed, and grunted, and + patiently chewed the cud. + </p> + <p> + "Le's go in there fust," whispered Dilly. "I sha'n't feel so strange there + as I do with folks. I guess if the four-footed creatur's can stan' it, I + can. Pretty darlin'!" she added, stopping before a heifer who had ceased + eating and was looking about her with a mild and dignified gaze. Dilly + eagerly sought out a stick, and began to scratch the delicate head. + "Pretty creatur'! Smell o' her breath, Molly! See her nose, all wet, like + pastur' grass afore day! Now, if I didn't want to live by myself, I'd like + to curl me up in a stall, 'side o' her." + </p> + <p> + "'Mandy, you an' Kelup come here!" called Aunt Melissa Adams. She loomed + very prosperous, over the way, in her new poplin and her lace-trimmed + cape. "Jest look at these roosters! They've got spurs on their legs as + long's my darnin'-needle. What under the sun makes 'em grow so! An' ain't + they the nippin'est little creatur's you ever see?" + </p> + <p> + "They're fightin'-cocks," answered Caleb, tolerantly. + </p> + <p> + "Fightin'-cocks? You don't mean to tell me they're trained up for that?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I do!" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I never heard o' such a thing in a Christian land! never! Whose be + they? I'll give him a piece o' my mind, if I live another minute!" + </p> + <p> + "You better let other folks alone," said Caleb, stolidly. + </p> + <p> + "'Mandy," returned Aunt Melissa, in a portentous undertone, "be you goin' + to stan' by an' see your own aunt spoke to as if she was the dirt under + your feet?" + </p> + <p> + Amanda had once in her life asserted herself at a crucial moment, and she + had never seen cause to regret it. Now she "spoke out" again. She made her + slender neck very straight and stiff, and her lips set themselves firmly + over the words,— + </p> + <p> + "I guess Caleb won't do you no hurt, Aunt Melissa. He don't want you + should make yourself a laughin'-stock, nor I don't either. There's Uncle + Hiram, over lookin' at the pigs. I guess he don't see you. Caleb, le's we + move on!" + </p> + <p> + Aunt Melissa stood looking after them, a mass of quivering wrath. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I must say!" she retorted to the empty air. "If I live, I must + say!" + </p> + <p> + Dilly took her placid companion by the arm, and hurried her on. Human + jangling wore sadly upon her; under such maddening onslaught she was not + incapable of developing "nerves." They stopped before a stall where + another heifer stood, chewing her cud, and looking away into remembered + pastures. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, see!" said Molly, "'Price $500'! Do you b'lieve it?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, well!" came Mrs. Eli Pike's ruminant voice from the crowd. "I'm + glad I don't own that creatur'! I shouldn't sleep nights if I had five + hunderd dollars in cow." + </p> + <p> + "Tain't five hunderd dollars," said Hiram Cole, elbowing his way to the + front. "'Tain't p'inted right, that's all. P'int off two ciphers—" + </p> + <p> + "Five dollars!" snickered a Crane boy, diving through the crowd, and + proceeding to stand on his head in a cleared space beyond. "That's wuth + less'n Miss Lucindy's hoss!" + </p> + <p> + Hiram Cole considered again, one lean hand stroking his cheek. + </p> + <p> + "Five—fifty—" he announced. "Well, I guess <i>'tis</i> five + hunderd, arter all! Anybody must want to invest, though, to put all their + income into perishable cow-flesh!" + </p> + <p> + "You look real tired," whispered Molly. "Le's come inside, an' perhaps we + can set down." + </p> + <p> + The old hall seemed to have donned strange carnival clothes, for a mystic + Saturnalia. It was literally swaddled in bedquilts,—tumbler-quilts, + rising-suns, Jacob's-ladders, log-cabins, and the more modern and + altogether terrible crazy-quilt. There were square yards of tidies, on + wall and table, and furlongs of home-knit lace. Dilly looked at this + product of the patient art of woman with a dispirited gaze. + </p> + <p> + "Seems a kind of a waste of time, don't it?" she said, dreamily, "when + things are blowin' outside? I wisht I could see suthin' made once to look + as handsome as green buds an' branches. Law, dear, now jest turn your eyes + away from them walls, an' see the tables full of apples! an' them piles o' + carrots, an' cabbages an' squashes over there! Well, 'tain't so bad if you + can look at things the sun's ever shone on, no matter if they be under + cover." She wandered up and down the tables, caressing the rounded + outlines of the fruit with her loving gaze. The apples, rich and fragrant, + were a glory and a joy. There were great pound sweetings, full of the + pride of mere bigness; long purple gilly-flowers, craftily hiding their + mealy joys under a sad-colored skin; and the Hubbardston, a portly + creature quite unspoiled by the prosperity of growth, and holding its + lovely scent and flavor like an individual charm. There was the Bald'in, + stand-by old and good as bread; and there were all the rest. We know them, + we who have courted Pomona in her fair New England orchards. + </p> + <p> + Near the fancy-work table sat Mrs. Blair, of the Old Ladies' Home, on a + stool she had wrenched from an unwilling boy, who declared it belonged up + in the Academy, whence he had brought it "to stan' on" while he drove a + nail. And though he besought her to rise and let him return it, since he + alone must be responsible, the old lady continued sitting in silence. At + length she spoke,— + </p> + <p> + "Here I be, an' here I'm goin' to set till the premiums is tacked on. Them + pinballs my neighbor, Mis' Dyer, made with her own hands, an' she's bent + double o' rheumatiz. An' I said I'd bring 'em for her, an' I'd set by an' + see things done fair an' square." + </p> + <p> + "There, Mrs. Blair, don't you worry," said Mrs. Mitchell, a director of + the Home, putting a hand on the martial and belligerent shoulder, "Don't + you mind if she doesn't get a premium. I'll buy the pinballs, and that + will do almost as well." + </p> + <p> + "My! if there ain't goin' to be trouble between Mary Lamson an' Sereno's + Hattie, I'll miss my guess!" said a matron, with an appreciative wag of + her purple-bonneted head. "They've either on 'em canned up more preserves + 'n Tiverton an' Sudleigh put together, an' Mary's got I dunno what all + among 'em!—squash, an' dandelion, an' punkin with lemon in't. That's + steppin' acrost the bounds, <i>I</i> say! If she gits a premium for + puttin' up gardin-sass, I'll warrant there'll be a to-do. An' Hattie'll + make it!" + </p> + <p> + "I guess there won't be no set-to about such small potaters," said Mrs. + Pike, with dignity. Her broad back had been unrecognized by the herald, + careless in her haste. "Hattie's ready an' willin' to divide the premium, + if't comes to her, an' I guess Mary'd be, put her in the same place." + </p> + <p> + "My soul an' body!" exclaimed another, trudging up and waving a large + palmleaf fan. "Well, there, Rosanna Pike! Is that you? Excuse me all, if I + don't stop to speak round the circle, I'm so put to't with Passon True's + carryin's on. You know he's been as mad as hops over Sudleigh Cattle-Show, + reg'lar as the year come round, because there's a raffle for a quilt, or + suthin'. An' now he's come an' set up a sort of a stall over t'other side + the room, an' folks thinks he's tryin' to git up a revival. I dunno when + I've seen John so stirred. He says we hadn't ought to be made a + laughin'-stock to Sudleigh, Passon or no Passon. An' old Square Lamb says—" + </p> + <p> + But the fickle crowd waited to hear no more. With one impulse, it surged + over to the other side of the hall, where Parson True, standing behind a + table brought down from the Academy, was saying solemnly,— + </p> + <p> + "Let us engage in prayer!" + </p> + <p> + The whispering ceased; the titters of embarrassment were stilled, and + mothers tightened their grasp on little hands, to emphasize the change of + scene from light to graver hue. Some of the men looked lowering; one or + two strode out of doors. They loved Parson True, but the Cattle-Show was + all their own, and they resented even a ministerial innovation. The parson + was a slender, wiry man, with keen blue eyes, a serious mouth, and an + overtopping forehead, from which the hair was always brushed straight + back. He called upon the Lord, with passionate fervor, to "bless this + people in all their outgoings and comings-in, and to keep their feet from + paths where His blessing could not attend them." + </p> + <p> + "Is that the raffle, mother?" whispered the smallest Crane boy; and his + mother promptly administered a shake, for the correction of misplaced + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + Then Parson True opened his eyes on his somewhat shamefaced flock and + their neighbor townsmen, and began to preach. It was good to be there, he + told them, only as it was good to be anywhere else, in the spirit of God. + Judgment might overtake them there, as it might at home, in house or + field. Were they prepared? He bent forward over the table, his slim form + trembling with the intensity of gathering passion. He appealed to each one + personally with that vibratory quality of address peculiar to him, wherein + it seemed that not only his lips but his very soul challenged the souls + before him. One after another joined the outer circle, and faces bent + forward over the shoulders in front, with that strange, arrested + expression inevitably born when, on the flood of sunny weather, we are + reminded how deep the darkness is within the grave. + </p> + <p> + "Let every man say to himself, 'Thou, God, seest me!'" reiterated the + parson. "Thou seest into the dark corners of my heart. What dost Thou see, + O God? What dost Thou see?" + </p> + <p> + Elvin and Rosa had drawn near with the others. She smiled a little, and + the hard bloom on her cheeks had not wavered. No one looked at them, for + every eye dwelt on the preacher; and though Elvin's face changed from the + healthy certainty of life and hope to a green pallor of self-recognition, + no one noticed. Consequently, the general surprise culminated in a shock + when he cried out, in a loud voice, "God be merciful! God be merciful! I + ain't fit to be with decent folks! I'd ought to be in jail!" and pushed + his way through the crowd until he stood before the parson, facing him + with bowed head, as if he found in the little minister the vicegerent of + God. He had kept Rosa's hand in a convulsive grasp, and he drew her with + him into the eye of the world. She shrank back, whimpering feebly; but no + one took note of her. The parson knew exactly what, to do when the soul + travailed and cried aloud. He stretched forth his hands, and put them on + the young man's shoulders. + </p> + <p> + "Come, poor sinner, come!" he urged, in a voice of wonderful melting + quality. "Come! Here is the throne of grace! Bring your burden, and cast + it down." + </p> + <p> + The words roused Elvin, or possibly the restraining touch. He started + back. + </p> + <p> + "I can't!" he cried out, stridently. "I can't yet! I can't! I can't!" + </p> + <p> + Still leading Rosa, who was crying now in good earnest, he turned, and + pushed his way out of the crowd. But once outside that warm human circuit, + Rosa broke loose from him. She tried to speak for his ear alone, but her + voice strove petulantly through her sobs: + </p> + <p> + "Elvin Drew, I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself! You've made me + ridiculous before the whole town, and I never'll speak to you again as + long as I live. If I hadn't stayed with you every minute, I should think + you'd been drinking, and I believe to my soul you have!" She buried her + face in her handkerchief, and stumbled over to a table where Laura Pettis + was standing, open-eyed with amazement, and the two clasped each other, + while Rosa cried on. Elvin only looked about him, in a bewildered fashion, + when the warm hand was wrenched away; then, realizing that he was quite + alone, his head bent under a deeper dejection. He seemed unable to move + from the spot, and stood there quite stupidly, until murmurs of "What's + the matter of him?" came from the waiting crowd, and Parson True himself + advanced, with hands again outstretched. But Dilly Joyce forestalled the + parson. She, too came forward, in her quick way, and took Elvin firmly by + the arm. + </p> + <p> + "Here, dear," she said, caressingly, "you come along out-doors with us!" + </p> + <p> + Elvin turned, still hanging his head, and the three (for little Molly had + come up on the other side, trying to stand very tall to show her + championship) walked out of the hall together. Dilly had ever a quick eye + for green, growing things, and she remembered a little corner of the + enclosure, where one lone elm-tree stood above a bank. Thither she led + him, with an assured step; and when they had reached the shadow, she drew + him forward, and said, still tenderly,— + </p> + <p> + "There, dear, you set right down here an' think it over. We'll stay with + ye. We'll never forsake ye, will we, Molly?" + </p> + <p> + Molly, who did not know what it was all about, had no need to know. + "Never!" she said, stanchly. + </p> + <p> + The three sat down there; and first the slow minutes, and then the hours, + went by. It had not been long before some one found out where they were, + and curious groups began to wander past, always in silence, but eying them + intently. Elvin sat with his head bent, looking fixedly at a root of + plantain; but Molly confronted the alien faces with a haughty challenging + stare, while her cheeks painted themselves ever a deeper red. Dilly leaned + happily back against the elm trunk, and dwelt upon the fleece-hung sky; + and her black eyes grew still calmer and more content. She looked as if + she had learned what things are lovely and of good repute. When the + town-clock struck noon, she brought forth their little luncheon, and + pressed it upon the others, with a nice hospitality. Elvin shook his head, + but Molly ate a trifle, for pride's sake. + </p> + <p> + "You go an' git him a mite o' water," whispered Dilly, when they had + finished. "I would, but I dunno the ways o' this place. It'll taste good + to him." + </p> + <p> + Molly nodded, and hurried away; presently she came back, bearing a tin + cup, and Elvin drank, though he did not thank her. + </p> + <p> + In the early afternoon, Ebenezer Tolman came striding down between the + pens in ostentatious indignation. He was a tall, red-faced man, with a + large, loose mouth, and blond-gray whiskers, always parted and blowing in + the wind. He wore, with manifest pride, the reputation of being a + dangerous animal when roused. He had bought a toy whip, at little Davie's + earnest solicitation, and, lashing it suggestively against his boot, he + began speaking long before he reached the little group. The lagging crowd + of listeners paused, breathless, to lose no word. + </p> + <p> + "Look here, you! don't ye darken my doors ag'in, an' don't ye dast to open + your head to one o' my folks! We're done with ye! Do you hear? We're done + with ye! Rosy'll ride home with me to-night, an' she'll ride with you no + more!" + </p> + <p> + Elvin said nothing, though his brow contracted suddenly at Rosa's name. + Ebenezer was about to speak again; but the little parson came striding + swiftly up, his long coat flying behind him, and Tolman, who was a + church-member, in good and regular standing, moved on. But the parson was + routed, in his turn. Dilly rose, and, as some one afterwards said, + "clipped it right up to him." + </p> + <p> + "Don't you come now, dear," she advised him, in that persuasive voice of + hers. "No, don't you come now. He ain't ready. You go away, an' let him + set an' think it out." And the parson, why he knew not, turned about, and + went humbly back to his preaching in the hall. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon wore on, and it began to seem as if Elvin would never break + from his trance, and never speak. Finally, after watching him a moment + with her keen eyes, Dilly touched him lightly on the arm. + </p> + <p> + "The Tolmans have drove home," she said, quietly. "All on 'em. What if you + should git your horse, an' take Molly an' me along?" + </p> + <p> + Elvin came to his feet with a lurch. He straightened himself. + </p> + <p> + "I've got to talk to the parson," said he. + </p> + <p> + "So I thought," answered Dilly, with composure, "but 'tain't no place + here. You ask him to ride, an' let Miss Dorcas drive home alone. We + four'll stop at my house, an' then you can talk it over." + </p> + <p> + Elvin obeyed, like a child tired of his own way. When they packed + themselves into the wagon,—where Dilly insisted on sitting behind, + to make room,—the Tiverton and Sudleigh people stood about in + groups, to watch them. Hiram Cole came forward, just as Elvin took up the + reins. + </p> + <p> + "Elvin," said he, in a cautious whisper, with his accustomed gesture of + scraping his cheek, "I've got suthin' to say to ye. Don't ye put no money + into Dan Forbes's hands. I've had a letter from brother 'Lisha, out in + Illinois, an' he says that business Dan wrote to you about—well, + there never was none! There ain't a stick o' furniture made there! An' + Dan's been cuttin' a dash lately with money he got som'er's or other, an' + he's gambled, an' I dunno what all, an' been took up. An' now he's in + jail. So don't you send him nothin'. I thought I'd speak." + </p> + <p> + Elvin looked at him a moment, with a strange little smile dawning about + his mouth. + </p> + <p> + "That's all right," he said, quickly, and drove away. + </p> + <p> + To Molly, the road home was like a dark passage full of formless fears. + She did not even know what had befallen the dear being she loved best; but + something dire and tragic had stricken him, and therefore her. The parson + was acutely moved for the anguish he had not probed. Only Dilly remained + cheerful. When they reached her gate, it was she who took the halter from + Elvin's hand, and tied the horse. Then she walked up the path, and flung + open her front door. + </p> + <p> + "Come right into the settin'-room," she said. "I'll git ye some water + right out o' the well. My throat's all choked up o' dust." + </p> + <p> + The cheerful clang of the bucket against the stones, the rumble of the + windlass, and then Dilly came in with a brimming bright tin dipper. She + offered it first to the parson, and though she refilled it scrupulously + for each pair of lips, it seemed a holy loving-cup. They sat there in the + darkening room, and Dilly "stepped round" and began to get supper. Molly + nervously joined her, and addressed her, once or twice, in a whisper. But + Dilly spoke out clearly in, answer, as if rebuking her. + </p> + <p> + "Le's have a real good time," she said, when she had drawn the table + forward and set forth her bread, and apples, and tea. "Passon, draw up! + You drink tea, don't ye? I don't, myself. I never could bear to spile good + water. But I keep it on hand for them that likes it. Elvin, here! You take + this good big apple. It's man's size more 'n woman's, I guess." + </p> + <p> + Elvin pushed back his chair. + </p> + <p> + "I ain't goin' to put a mouthful of victuals to my lips till I make up my + mind whether I can speak or not," he said, loudly. + </p> + <p> + "All right," answered Dilly, placidly. "Bless ye! the teapot'll be goin' + all night, if ye say so." + </p> + <p> + Only Dilly and the parson made a meal; and when it was over, Parson True + rose, as if his part of the strange drama must at last begin, and fell on + his knees. + </p> + <p> + "Let us pray!" + </p> + <p> + Molly, too, knelt, and Elvin threw his arms upon the table, and laid his + head upon them. But Dilly stood erect. From time to time, she glanced + curiously from the parson to the lovely darkened world outside her little + square of window, and smiled slightly, tenderly, as if out there she saw + the visible God. The parson prayed for "this sick soul, our brother," over + and over, in many phrases, and with true and passionate desire. And when + the prayer was done, he put his hand on the young man's shoulder, and + said, with a yearning persuasiveness,— + </p> + <p> + "Tell it now, my brother! Jesus is here." + </p> + <p> + Elvin raised his head, with a sudden fierce gesture toward Dilly. + </p> + <p> + "She knows," he said. "She can see the past. She'll tell you what I've + done." + </p> + <p> + "I 'ain't got nothin' to tell, dear," answered Dilly, peacefully. + "Everything you've done's between you an' God A'mighty. I 'ain't got + nothin' to tell!" + </p> + <p> + Then she went out, and, deftly unharnessing the horse, put him in her + little shed, and gave him a feed of oats. The hens had gone to bed without + their supper. + </p> + <p> + "No matter, biddies," she said, conversationally, as she passed their + roost. "I'll make it up to you in the mornin'!" + </p> + <p> + When she entered the house again, Elvin still sat there, staring stolidly + into the dusk. The parson was praying, and Molly, by the window, was + holding the sill tightly clasped by both hands, as if threatening herself + into calm. When the parson rose, he turned to Elvin, less like the pastor + than the familiar friend. One forgot his gray hairs in the loving + simplicity of his tone. + </p> + <p> + "My son," he said, tenderly, "tell it all! God is merciful." + </p> + <p> + But again Dilly put in her voice. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you push him, Passon! Let him speak or not, jest as he's a mind to. + Let God A'mighty do it His way! Don't <i>you</i> do it!" + </p> + <p> + Darkness settled in the room, and the heavenly hunter's-moon rose and + dispelled it. + </p> + <p> + "O God! can I?" broke forth the young man. "O God! if I tell, I'll go + through with it. I will, so help me!" + </p> + <p> + The moving patterns of the vine at the window began to etch themselves + waveringly on the floor. Dilly bent, and traced the outline of a leaf with + her finger. + </p> + <p> + "I'll tell!" cried Elvin, in a voice exultant over the prospect of + freedom. "I'll tell it all. I wanted money. The girl I meant to have was + goin' with somebody else, an' I'd got to scrape together some money, + quick. I burnt down my house an' barn. I got the insurance money. I sent + some of it out West, to put into that furniture business, an' Dan Forbes + has made way with it. I only kept enough to take Rosa an' me out there. + I'll give up that, an' go to jail; an' if the Lord spares my life, when I + come out I'll pay it back, principal an' int'rest." + </p> + <p> + Molly gave one little moan, and buried her face in her hands. The parson + and Dilly rose, by one impulse, and went forward to Elvin, who sat + upright, trembling from excitement past. Dilly reached him first. She put + both her hands on his forehead, and smoothed back his hair. + </p> + <p> + "Dear heart," she said, in a voice thrilled through by music,—"dear + heart! I was abroad that night, watchin' the stars, an' I see it all. I + see ye do it. You done it real clever, an' I come nigh hollerin' out to + ye, I was so pleased, when I see you was determined to save the livestock. + An' that barn-cat, dear, that old black Tom that's ketched my chickens so + long!—you 'most broke your neck to save him. But I never should ha' + told, dear, never! 'specially sence you got out the creatur's." + </p> + <p> + "And 'in Christ shall all be made alive!'" said the parson, wiping his + eyes, and then beginning to pat Elvin's hand with both his own. "Now, what + shall we do? What shall we do? Why not come home with me, and stay over + night? My dear wife will be glad to see you. And the morning will bring + counsel." + </p> + <p> + Elvin had regained a fine freedom of carriage, and a decision of tone long + lost to him. He was dignified by the exaltation of the moment. + </p> + <p> + "I've got it all fixed," he said, like a man. "I thought it all out under + that elm-tree, today. You drive me over to Sheriff Holmes's, an' he'll + tell me what's right to do,—whether I'm to go to the insurance + people, or whether I'm to be clapped into jail. He'll know. It's out o' my + hands. I'll go an' harness now." + </p> + <p> + Parson True drew Molly forward from her corner, and held her hand, while + he took Elvin's, and motioned Dilly to complete the circle. + </p> + <p> + "Jesus Christ be with us!" he said, solemnly. "God, our Father, help us to + love one another more and more tenderly because of our sins!" + </p> + <p> + While Elvin was harnessing, a dark figure came swiftly through the + moonlight. + </p> + <p> + "Elvin," whispered Molly, sharply. "O Elvin, I can't bear it! You take + what money you've got, an' go as fur as you can. Then you work, an' I'll + work, an' we'll pay 'em back. What good will it do, for you to go to jail? + Oh, what good will it do!" + </p> + <p> + "Poor little Molly!" said he. "You do care about me, don't you? I sha'n't + forget that, wherever I am." + </p> + <p> + Molly came forward, and threw her arms about him passionately. + </p> + <p> + "Go! go!" she whispered, fiercely. "Go now! I'll drive you some'er's an' + bring the horse back. Don't wait! I don't want a hat." + </p> + <p> + Elvin smoothed her hair. + </p> + <p> + "No," said he, gravely, "you'll see it different, come mornin'. The things + of this world ain't everything. Even freedom ain't everything. There's + somethin' better. Good-by, Molly. I don't know how long a sentence they + give; but when they let me out, I shall come an' tell you what I think of + you for standin' by. Parson True!" + </p> + <p> + The parson came out, and Dilly followed. When the two men were seated in + the wagon, she bent forward, and laid her hand on Elvin's, as it held the + reins. + </p> + <p> + "Don't you be afraid," she said, lovingly. "If they shet ye up, you + remember there ain't nothin' to be afraid of but wrong-doin', an' that's + only a kind of a sickness we al'ays git well of. An' God A'mighty's + watchin' over us all the time. An' if you've sp'iled your chance in this + life, don't you mind. There's time enough. Plenty o' time, you says to + yourself, plenty!" + </p> + <p> + She drew back, and they drove on. Molly, in heart-sick sobbing, threw + herself forward into the little woman's arms, and Dilly held her with an + unwearied cherishing. + </p> + <p> + "There, there, dear!" she said, tenderly. "Ain't it joyful to think he's + got his soul out o' prison, where he shet it up? He's all free now. It's + jest as if he was born into a new world, to begin all over." + </p> + <p> + "But, Dilly, I love him so! An' I can't do anything! not a thing! O Dilly, + yes! yes! Oh, it's little enough, but I could! I could save my shoe-shop + money, an' help him pay his debt, when he's out o' jail." + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Dilly, joyously. "An' there's more'n that you can do. You can + keep him in your mind, all day long, an' all night long, an' your + sperit'll go right through the stone walls, if they put him there, an' + cheer him up. + </p> + <p> + "He won't know how, but so it'll be, dear, so it'll be. Folks don't know + why they're uplifted sometimes, when there ain't no cause; but <i>I</i> + say it's other folks's love. Now you come in, dear, an' we'll make the bed—it's + all aired complete—an' then we'll go to sleep, an' see if we can't + dream us a nice, pleasant dream,—all about green gardins, an' the + folks we love walking in the midst of 'em!" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BANKRUPT + </h2> + <p> + Miss Dorcas True stood in her square front entry, saying good-by to Phoebe + Marsh. The entry would have been quite dark from its time-stained woodwork + and green paper, except for the twilight glimmer swaying and creeping + through the door leading into the garden. Out there were the yellow of + coreopsis, and the blue of larkspur, melted into a dim magnificence of + color, suffusing all the air; to one who knew what common glory was + a-blowing and a-growing there without, the bare seclusion of the house + might well seem invaded by it, like a heavenly flood. Phoebe, too, in her + pink calico, appeared to spread abroad the richness of her youth and + bloom, and radiate a certain light about her where she stood. She was + tall, her proportions were ample, and her waist very trim. She had the + shoulders and arms of the women of an elder time, whom we classify vaguely + now as goddesses. The Tiverton voices argued that she would have been + "real handsome if she'd had any sense about doin' her hair;" which was + brought down loosely over her ears, in the fashion of her Aunt Phoebe's + miniature. Miss Dorcas beside her looked like one of autumn's brown, + quiescent stems left standing by the way. She was firmly built, yet all + her lines subdued themselves to that meagreness which ever dwells afar + from beauty. The deep marks of hard experience had been graven on her + forehead, and her dark eyes burned inwardly; the tense, concentrated spark + of pain and the glowing of happy fervor seemed as foreign to them as she + herself to all the lighter joys and hopes. Her only possibility of beauty + lay in an abundance of soft dark hair; but even that had been restricted + and coiled into a compact, utilitarian compass. She had laid one nervous + hand on Phoebe's arm, and she grasped the arm absently, from time to time, + in talking, with unconscious joy in its rounded warmth. She spoke + cautiously, so that her voice might not be heard within. + </p> + <p> + "Then you come over to-morrow, after the close of service, if it's + convenient. You can slip right into the kitchen, just as usual. Any news?" + </p> + <p> + Phoebe, too, lowered her voice, but the full sweetness of its quality + thrilled out. + </p> + <p> + "Mary Frances Giles is going to be married next week. I've been down to + see her things. She's real pleased." + </p> + <p> + "You don't suppose they'll ask father to marry 'em?" Miss Dorcas spoke + quite eagerly. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no, they can't! It's a real wedding, you know. It's got to be at the + house." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, of course it's got to! I knew that myself, but I couldn't help + hoping. Well, goodnight. You come Sunday." + </p> + <p> + Phoebe lifted her pink skirts about her, and stepped, rustling and + stately, down the garden walk. Miss Dorcas drew one deep breath of the + outer fragrance, and turned back into the house. A thin voice, enfeebled + and husky from old age, rose in the front room, as she entered: + </p> + <p> + "Dorcas! Dorcas! you had a caller?" + </p> + <p> + Her father, old Parson True, lay in the great bed opposite the window. A + thin little twig of a man, he was still animated, at times, by the power + of a strenuous and dauntless spirit. His hair, brushed straight back from + the overtopping forehead, had grown snowy white, and the eager, delicate + face beneath wore a strange pathos from the very fineness of its nervously + netted lines. Not many years after his wife's death, the parson had shown + some wandering of the wits; yet his disability, like his loss, had been + mercifully veiled from him. He took calmly to his bed, perhaps through + sheer lack of interest in life, and it became his happy invention that he + was "not feeling well," from one day to another, but that, on the next + Sunday, he should rise and preach. He seemed like an unfortunate and + uncomplaining child, and the village folk took pride in him as something + all their own; a pride enhanced by his habit, in this weak estate, of + falling back into the homely ways of speech he had used long ago when he + was a boy "on the farm." In his wife's day, he had stood in the pulpit + above them, and expounded scriptural lore in academic English; now he + lapsed into their own rude phrasing, and seemed to rest content in a + tranquil certainty that nothing could be better than Tiverton ways and + Tiverton's homely speech. + </p> + <p> + "Dorcas," he repeated, with all a child's delight in his own cleverness, + "you've had somebody here. I heard ye!" + </p> + <p> + Dorcas folded the sheet back over the quilt, and laid her hand on his + hair, with all the tenderness of the strong when they let themselves brood + over the weak. + </p> + <p> + "Only Phoebe, on her way home," she answered, gently. "The doctor visited + her school to-day. She thinks he may drop in to see you to-night. I guess + he give her to understand so." + </p> + <p> + The minister chuckled. + </p> + <p> + "Ain't he a smart one?" he rejoined. "Smart as a trap! Dorcas, I 'ain't + finished my sermon. I guess I shall have to preach an old one. You lay me + out the one on the salt losin' its savor, an' I'll look it over." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, father." + </p> + <p> + The same demand and the same answer, varied but slightly, had been + exchanged between them every Saturday night for years. Dorcas replied now + without thinking. Her mind had spread its wings and flown out into the + sweet stillness of the garden and the world beyond; it even hastened on + into the unknown ways of guesswork, seeking for one who should be coming. + She strained her ears to hear the beating of hoofs and the rattle of + wheels across the little, bridge. The dusk sifted in about the house, + faster and faster; a whippoorwill cried from the woods. So she sat until + the twilight had vanished, and another of the invisible genii was at hand, + saying, "I am Night." + </p> + <p> + "Dorcas!" called the parson again. He had been asleep, and seemed now to + be holding himself back from a broken dream. "Dorcas, has your mother come + in yet?" + </p> + <p> + "No, father." + </p> + <p> + "Well, you wake me up when you see her down the road; and then you go an' + carry her a shawl. I dunno what to make o' that cough!" His voice trailed + sleepily off, and Dorcas rose and tiptoed out of the room. She felt the + blood in her face; her ears thrilled noisily. The doctor's, wagon, had + crossed the bridge; now it was whirling swiftly up the road. She stationed + herself in the entry, to lose no step in his familiar progress. The horse + came lightly along, beating out a pleasant tune of easy haste. He was + drawn up at the gate, and the doctor threw out his weight, and jumped + buoyantly to the ground. There was the brief pause of reaching for his + medicine-case, and then, with that firm step whose rhythm she knew so + well, he was walking up the path. Involuntarily, as Dorcas awaited him, + she put her hand to her heart with one of those gestures that seem so + melodramatic and are so real; she owned to herself, with a throb of + appreciative delight, how the sick must warm at his coming. This new + doctor of Tiverton was no younger than Dorcas herself, yet with his erect + carriage and merry blue eye she seemed to be not only of another + temperament, but another time. It had never struck him that they were + contemporaries. Once he had told Phoebe, in a burst of affection and + pitying praise, that he should have liked Miss Dorcas for a maiden aunt. + </p> + <p> + "Good evening," he said, heartily, one foot on the sill. "How's the + patient?" + </p> + <p> + At actual sight of him, her tremor vanished, and she answered very + quietly,— + </p> + <p> + "Father's asleep. I thought you wouldn't want he should be disturbed; so I + came out." + </p> + <p> + The doctor took off his hat, and pushed back his thick, unruly hair. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, that was right," he said absently, and pinched a spray of + southernwood that grew beside the door. "How has he seemed?" + </p> + <p> + "About as usual." + </p> + <p> + "You've kept on with the tonic?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "That's good! Miss Dorcas, look up there. See that moon! See that wisp of + an old blanket dragging over her face! Do you mind coming out and walking + up and down the road while we talk? I may think of one or two directions + to give about your father." + </p> + <p> + Dorcas stepped forward with the light obedience given to happy tasking. + She paused as quickly. + </p> + <p> + "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I can't. Father might wake up. I never leave him + alone." + </p> + <p> + "Never mind, then! let's sit right down here on the steps. After all, + perhaps it's pleasanter. What a garden! It's like my mother's. I could + pick out every leaf in the dark, by the smell. But you're alone, aren't + you? I'm not keeping you from any one?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no! I'm all alone, except father." + </p> + <p> + "Yes. The fact is, I went into your school to-day, and the teacher said + she was coming here to-night. She offered to bring you a message, but I + said I should come myself. I'm abominably late. I couldn't get here any + earlier." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, yes! Phoebe! She was here over an hour ago. Phoebe's a real comfort + to me." She was seated on the step above him, and it seemed very pleasant + to her to hear his voice, without encountering also the challenge of his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + "No, is she though?" The doctor suddenly faced round upon her. "Tell me + about it!" + </p> + <p> + Then, quite to her surprise, Dorcas found herself talking under the spell + of an interest so eager that it bore her on, entirely without her own + guidance. + </p> + <p> + "Well, you see there's a good many things I keep from father. He never's + been himself since mother died. She was the mainstay here. But he thinks + the church prospers just the same, and I never've told him the attendance + dropped off when they put up that 'Piscopal building over to Sudleigh. You + 'ain't lived here long enough to hear much about that, but it's been a + real trial to him. The summer boarders built it, and some rich body keeps + it up; and our folks think it's complete to go over there and worship, and + get up and down, and say their prayers out loud." + </p> + <p> + The doctor laughed out. + </p> + <p> + "I've heard about it," said he. "You know what Brad Freeman told Uncle Eli + Pike, when they went in to see how the service was managed? Somebody found + the places in the prayer-book for them, and Brad was quick-witted, and got + on very well; but Eli kept dropping behind. Brad nudged him. 'Read!' he + said out loud. 'Read like the devil!' I've heard that story on an average + of twice a day since I came to Tiverton. I'm not tired of it yet!" + </p> + <p> + Miss Dorcas, too, had heard it, and shrunk from its undisguised profanity. + Now she laughed responsively. + </p> + <p> + "I guess they do have queer ways," she owned. "Well, I never let father + know any of our folks go over there. He'd be terrible tried. And I've made + it my part in our meeting to keep up the young folks' interest as much as + I can. I've been careful never to miss my Sunday-school class. They're all + girls, nice as new pins, every one of 'em! Phoebe was in it till a little + while ago, but now she comes here and sits in the kitchen while I'm gone. + I don't want father to know that, for I hope it never'll come into his + head he's so helpless; but I should be worried to death to have him left + alone. So Phoebe sits there with her book, ready to spring if she should + hear anything out o' the way." + </p> + <p> + The doctor had lapsed into his absent mood, but now he roused himself, + with sudden interest. + </p> + <p> + "That's very good of her, isn't it?" he said "You trust her, don't you?" + </p> + <p> + "Trust Phoebe! Well, I guess I do! I've known her ever since she went to + Number Five, and now she's keeping the school herself. She's a real noble + girl!" + </p> + <p> + "Tell me more!" said the doctor, warmly. "I want to hear it all. You're so + new to me here in Tiverton! I want to get acquainted." + </p> + <p> + Miss Dorcas suddenly felt as if she had been talking a great deal, and an + overwhelming shyness fell upon her. + </p> + <p> + "There isn't much to tell," she hesitated. "I don't know's anything'd + happened to me for years, till father had his ill-turn in the spring, and + we called you in. He don't seem to realize his sickness was anything much. + I've told the neighbors not to dwell on it when they're with him. Phoebe + won't; she's got some sense." + </p> + <p> + "Has she?" said the doctor, still eagerly. "I'm glad of that, for your + sake!" He rose to go, but stood a moment near the steps, dallying with a + reaching branch of jessamine; it seemed persuading him to stay. He had + always a cheery manner, but to-night it was brightened by a dash of + something warm and reckless. He had the air of one awaiting good news, in + confidence of its coming. Dorcas was alive to the rapt contagion, and her + own blood thrilled. She felt young. + </p> + <p> + "Well!" said he, "well, Miss Dorcas!" He took a step, and then turned + back. "Well, Miss Dorcas," he said again, with an embarrassed laugh, + "perhaps you'd like to gather in one more church-goer. If I have time + tomorrow, I'll drop in to your service, and then I'll come round here, and + tell your father I went." + </p> + <p> + Dorcas rose impulsively. She could have stretched out her hands to him, in + the warmth of her gratitude. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, if you would! Oh, how pleased he'd be!" + </p> + <p> + "All right!" Now he turned away with decision. "Thank you, Miss Dorcas, + for staying out. It's a beautiful evening. I never knew such a June. + Good-night!" He strode down the walk, and gave a quick word to his horse, + who responded in whinnying welcome. An instant's delay, another word, and + they were gone. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas stood listening to the scatter of hoofs down the dusty road and + over the hollow ledge. She sank back on the sill, and, step by step, tried + to retrace the lovely arabesque the hour had made. At last, she had some + groping sense of the full beauty of living, when friendship says to its + mate, "Tell me about yourself!" and the frozen fountain wells out, every + drop cheered and warmed, as it falls, in the sunshine of sympathy. She saw + in him that perfection of life lying in strength, which he undoubtedly + had, and beauty, of which he had little or much according as one chose to + think well of him. To her aching sense, he was a very perfect creature, + gifted with, infinite capacities for help and comfort. + </p> + <p> + But the footfalls ceased, and the garden darkened by delicate yet swift + degrees; a cloud had gone over the moon, fleecy, silver-edged, but still a + cloud. The waning of the light seemed to her significant; she feared lest + some bitter change might befall the moment; and went in, bolting the door + behind her. Once within her own little bedroom, she loosened her hair, and + moved about aimlessly, for a time, careless of sleep, because it seemed so + far. Then a sudden resolve nerved her, and she stole back again to the + front door, and opened it. The night was blossoming there, glowing now, + abundant. It was so rich, so full! The moonlight here, and star upon star + above, hidden not by clouds but by the light! Need she waste this one + night out of all her unregarded life? She stepped forth among the + flower-beds, stooping, in a passionate fervor, to the blossoms she could + reach; but, coming back to the southernwood, she took it in her arms. She + laid her face upon it, and crushed the soft leaves against her cheeks. It + made all the world smell of its own balm and dew. The fragrance and beauty + of the time passed into her soul, and awakened corners there all unused to + such sweet incense. She was drunken with the wine that is not of grapes. + She could not have found words for the passion that possessed her, though + she hugged it to her heart like another self; but it was elemental, + springing from founts deeper than those of life and death. God made it, + and, like all His making, it was divine. She sat there, the southernwood + still gathered into her arms, and at last emotion stilled itself, and + passed into thought; a wild temptation rose, and with its first whisper + drove a hot flush into her cheeks, and branded it there. Love! she had + never named the name in its first natal significance. She had scarcely + read it; for romance, even in books, had passed her by. But love! she knew + it as the insect knows how to spread his new sun-dried wings in the air + for which he was create. Sitting there, in a happy drowse, she thought it + all out. She was old, plain, unsought; the man she exalted was the flower + of his kind. He would never look on her as if she might touch the hem of + wifehood's mantle; so there would be no shame in choosing him. Just to + herself, she might name the Great Name. He would not know. Only her own + soul would know, and God who gave it, and sent it forth fitted with + delicate, reaching tentacles to touch the rock set there to wound them. + She began to feel blindly that God was not alone the keeper of eternal + Sabbaths, but the germinant heat at the heart of the world. If she were a + young girl, like Phoebe, there would be shame. Even a thought of him would + be a stretching forth her hand to touch him, saying, "Look at me! I am + here!" but for her it was quite different. It would be like a dream, some + grandmother dreamed in the sun, of rosy youth and the things that never + came to pass. No one would be harmed, and the sleeper would have garnered + one hour's joy before she took up her march again on the lonesomest road + of all,—so lonesome, although it leads us, home! Thus she thought, + half sleeping, until the night-dews clung in drops upon her hair; then she + went in to bed, still wrapped about with the drapery of her dreams. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, when Dorcas carried in her father's breakfast, she walked + with a springing step, and spoke in a voice so full and fresh it made her + newly glad. + </p> + <p> + "It's a nice day, father! There'll be lots of folks out to meeting." + </p> + <p> + "That's a good girl!" This was his commendation, from hour to hour; it + made up the litany of his gratitude for what she had been to him. "But I + dunno's I feel quite up to preachin' to-day, Dorcas!" + </p> + <p> + "That'll be all right, father. We'll get somebody." + </p> + <p> + "You bring me out my sermon-box after breakfast, an' I'll pick out one," + said he, happily. "Deacon Tolman can read it." + </p> + <p> + But, alas! Deacon Tolman had been dead this many a year! + </p> + <p> + A little later, the parson sat up in bed, shuffling his manuscript about + with nervous hands, and Dorcas, in the kitchen, stood washing her + breakfast dishes. That eager interest in living still possessed her. She + began humming, in a timid monotone. Her voice had the clearness of truth, + with little sweetness; and she was too conscious of its inadequacy to use + it in public, save under the compelling force of conscience. Hitherto, she + had only sung in Sunday-school, moved, as in everything, by the pathetic + desire of "doing her part;" but this morning seemed to her one for lifting + the voice, though not in Sunday phrasing. After a little thought, she + began thinly and sweetly,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Early one morning, just as the sun was rising, + I heard a maid sing in the valley below: + 'O don't deceive me! O never leave me + How could you use a poor maiden so?'" +</pre> + <p> + A gruff voice from the doorway broke harshly in upon a measure. + </p> + <p> + "Yes! yes! Well! well! Tunin' up a larrady, ain't ye?" + </p> + <p> + Dorcas knew who it was, without turning round,—a dark, squat woman, + broad all over; broad in the hips, the waist, the face, and stamped with + the race-mark of high cheekbones. Her thick, straight black hair was cut + "tin-basin style;" she wore men's boots, and her petticoats were nearly up + to her knees. + </p> + <p> + "Good morning, Nancy!" called Dorcas, blithely, wringing out her + dishcloth. "Come right in, and sit down." + </p> + <p> + Nance Pete (in other words, Nancy the wife of Pete, whose surname was + unknown) clumped into the room, and took a chair by the hearth. She drew + forth a short black pipe, looked into it discontentedly, and then sat + putting her thumb in and out of the bowl. + </p> + <p> + "You 'ain't got a mite o' terbacker about ye? Hey what?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas had many a time been shocked at the same demand. This morning, + something humorous about it struck her, and she laughed. + </p> + <p> + "You know I haven't, Nancy Pete! Did you mend that hole in your skirt, as + I told you?" + </p> + <p> + Nance laboriously drew a back breadth of her coarse plaid skirt round to + the front, and displayed it, without a word. A three-cornered tear of the + kind known as a barn-door had been treated by tying a white string well + outside it, and gathering up the cloth, like a bag. Dorcas's sense of + fitness forbade her to see anything humorous in so original a device. She + stood before the woman in all the moral excellence of a censor + fastidiously clad. + </p> + <p> + "O Nancy Pete!" she exclaimed. "How could you?" + </p> + <p> + Nance put her cold pipe in her mouth, and began sucking at the + unresponsive stem. + </p> + <p> + "You 'ain't got a bite of anything t' eat, have ye?" she asked, + indifferently. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas went to the pantry, and brought forth pie, doughnuts and cheese, + and a dish of cold beans. The coffee-pot was waiting on the stove. One + would have said the visitor had been expected. Nance rose and tramped over + to the table. But Dorcas stood firmly in the way. + </p> + <p> + "No, Nancy, no! You wait a minute! Are you going to meeting to-day?" + </p> + <p> + "I 'ain't had a meal o' victuals for a week!" remarked Nance, addressing + no one in particular. + </p> + <p> + "Nancy, are you going to meeting?" + </p> + <p> + "Whose seat be I goin' to set in?" inquired Nance, rebelliously, yet with + a certain air of capitulation. + </p> + <p> + "You can sit in mine. Haven't you sat there for the last five years? Now, + Nancy, don't hinder me!" + </p> + <p> + "Plague take it, then! I'll go!" + </p> + <p> + At this expected climax, Dorcas stood aside, and allowed her visitor to + serve herself with beans. When Nance's first hunger had been satisfied, + she began a rambling monologue, of an accustomed sort to which Dorcas + never listened. + </p> + <p> + "I went down to peek into the Poorhouse winders, this mornin'. There they + all sut, like rats in a trap. 'Got ye, 'ain't they?' says I. Old Sal Flint + she looked up, an' if there'd been a butcher-knife handy, I guess she'd + ha' throwed it. 'It's that Injun!' says she to Mis' Giles. 'Don't you take + no notice!' 'I dunno's I'm an Injun,' says I, 'I dunno how much Injun I + be. I can't look so fur back as that. I dunno's there's any more Injun in + me than there is devil in you!' I says. An' then the overseer he come out, + an' driv' me off. 'You won't git me in there,' says I to him, 'not so + long's I've got my teeth to chaw sassafras, an' my claws to dig me a + holler in the ground!' But when I come along, he passed me on the road, + an' old Sal Flint sut up by him on the seat, like a bump on a log. I guess + he was carryin' her over to that Pope-o'-Rome meetin' they've got over to + Sudleigh." + </p> + <p> + Dorcas turned about, in anxious interest. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I wonder if he was! How <i>can</i> folks give up their own meeting + for that?" + </p> + <p> + Nance pushed her chair back from the table. + </p> + <p> + "Want to see all kinds, I s'pose," she said, slyly. "Guess I'll try it + myself, another Sunday!" + </p> + <p> + "Anybody to home?" came a very high and wheezy voice from the doorway. + Dorcas knew that also, and so did Nance Pete. + </p> + <p> + "It's that old haddock't lives up on the mountain," said the latter, + composedly, searching in her pocket, and then pulling out a stray bit of + tobacco and pressing it tenderly into her pipe. + </p> + <p> + An old man, dressed in a suit of very antique butternut clothes, stood at + the sill, holding forward a bunch of pennyroyal. He was weazened and dry; + his cheeks were parchment color, and he bore the look of an active yet + extreme old age. He was totally deaf. Dorcas advanced toward him, taking a + bright five-cent piece from her pocket. She held it out to him, and he, in + turn, extended the pennyroyal; but before taking it, she went through a + solemn pantomime. She made a feint of accepting the herb, and then pointed + to him and to the road. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, yes!" said the old man, irritably. "Bless ye! of course I'm goin' to + meetin'. I'll set by myself, though! Yes, I will! Las' Sunday, I set with + Jont Marshall, an' every time I sung a note, he dug into me with his + elbow, till I thought I should ha' fell out the pew-door. My voice is jest + as good as ever 'twas, an' sixty-five year ago come spring, I begun to set + in the seats." + </p> + <p> + The coin and pennyroyal changed ownership, and he tottered away, + chattering to himself in his senile fashion. + </p> + <p> + "Look here, you!" he shouted back, his hand on the gate. "Heerd anything + o' that new doctor round here? Well, he's been a-pokin' into my ears, an' + I guess he'd ha' cured me, if anybody could. You know I don't hear so + well's I used to. He went a-peekin' an' a-pryin' round my ears, as if he'd + found a hornet's nest. I dunno what he see there; I know he shook his + head. I guess we shouldn't ha' got no such a man to settle down here if he + wa'n't so asthmy he couldn't git along where he was. That's the reason he + come, they say. He's a bright one!" + </p> + <p> + Dorcas left her sweeping, and ran out after him. For the moment, she + forgot his hopeless durance in fleshly walls. + </p> + <p> + "Did he look at 'em?" she cried. "Did he? Tell me what he said!" + </p> + <p> + "Why, of course I don't hear no better yit!" answered old Simeon, testily, + turning to stump away, "but that ain't no sign I sha'n't! He's a beauty! I + set up now, when he goes by, so's I can hear him when he rides back. I put + a quilt down in the fore-yard, an' when the ground trimbles a mite, I git + up to see if it's his hoss. Once I laid there till 'leven. He's a beauty, + he is!" + </p> + <p> + He went quavering down the road, and Dorcas ran back to the house, elated + afresh. An unregarded old man could give him the poor treasure of his + affection, quite unasked. Why should not she? + </p> + <p> + Nance was just taking her unceremonious leave. Her pockets bulged with + doughnuts, and she had wrapped half a pie in the Sudleigh "Star," + surreptitiously filched from the woodbox. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I guess I'll be gittin' along towards meetin'," she said, in a tone + of unconcern, calculated to allay suspicion. "I'm in hopes to git a mite + o' terbacker out o' Hiram Cole, if he's settin' lookin' at his pigs, where + he is 'most every Sunday. I'll have a smoke afore I go in." + </p> + <p> + "Don't you be late!" + </p> + <p> + "I'm a-goin' in late, or not at all!" answered Nance, contradictorily. "My + bunnit ain't trimmed on the congregation side, an' I want to give 'em a + chance to see it all round. I'm a-goin' up the aisle complete!" + </p> + <p> + Dorcas finished her work, and, having tidied her father's room, sat down + by his bedside for the simple rites that made their Sabbath holy. With the + first clanging stroke of the old bell, not half a mile away, they fell + into silence, waiting reverently through the necessary pause for allowing + the congregation to become seated. Then they went through the service + together, from hymn and prayer to the sermon. The parson had his + manuscript ready, and he began reading it, in the pulpit-voice of his + prime. At that moment, some of his old vigor came back to him, and he + uttered the conventional phrases of his church with conscious power; + though so little a man, he had always a sonorous delivery. After a page or + two, his hands began to tremble, and his voice sank. + </p> + <p> + "You read a spell, Dorcas," he whispered, in pathetic apology. "I'll rest + me a minute." So Dorcas read, and he listened. Presently he fell asleep, + and she still went on, speaking the words mechanically, and busy with her + own tumultuous thoughts. Amazement possessed her that the world could be + so full of joy to which she had long been deaf. She could hear the oriole + singing in the elm; his song was almost articulate. The trees waved a + little, in a friendly fashion, through the open windows; friendly in the + unspoken kinship of green things to our thought, yet remote in their own + seclusion. One tall, delicate locust, gowned in summer's finest gear, + stirred idly at the top, as if through an inward motion, untroubled by the + wind. Dorcas's mind sought out the doctor, listening to the sermon in her + bare little church, and she felt quite content. She had entered the first + court of love, where a spiritual possession is enough, and asks no alms of + bodily nearness. When she came to the end of the sermon, her hands fell in + her lap, and she gave herself up without reserve to the idle delight of + satisfied dreaming. The silence pressed upon her father, and he opened his + eyes wide with the startled look of one who comprehends at once the + requirements of time and place. Then, in all solemnity, he put forth his + hands; and Dorcas, bending her head, received the benediction for the + congregation he would never meet again. She roused herself to bring in his + beef-tea, and at the moment of carrying away the tray, a step sounded on + the walk. She knew who it was, and smiled happily. The lighter foot + keeping pace beside it, she did not hear. + </p> + <p> + "Dorcas," said her father, "git your bunnit. It's time for Sunday-school." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, father." + </p> + <p> + The expected knock came at the door. She went forward, tying on her + bonnet, and her cheeks were pink. The doctor stood on the doorstone, and + Phoebe was with him. He smiled at Dorcas, and put out his hand. This, + according to Tiverton customs, was a warm demonstration at so meaningless + a moment; it seemed a part of his happy friendliness. It was Phoebe who + spoke. + </p> + <p> + "I'll stay outside while the doctor goes in. I can sit down here on the + step. Your father needn't know I am here any more than usual. I told the + doctor not to talk, coming up the walk." + </p> + <p> + The doctor smiled at her. Phoebe looked like a rose in her Sunday white, + and the elder woman felt a sudden joy in her, untouched by envy of her + youth and bloom. Phoebe only seemed a part of the beautiful new laws to + which the world was freshly tuned, Dorcas coveted nothing; she envied + nobody. She herself possessed all, in usurping her one rich kingdom. + </p> + <p> + "All right," she said. "The doctor can step in now, and see father. I'll + hurry back, as soon as Sunday-school is over." She walked away, glancing + happily at the flowers on either side of the garden-path. She wanted to + touch all their leaves, because, last night, he had praised them. + </p> + <p> + Returning, when her hour was over, she walked very fast; her heart was + waking into hunger, and she feared he might be gone. But he was there, + sitting on the steps beside Phoebe, and when the gate swung open, they did + not hear. Phoebe's eyes were dropped, and she was poking her parasol into + the moss-encrusted path; the doctor was looking into her face, and + speaking quite eagerly. He heard Dorcas first, and sprang up. His eyes + were so bright and forceful in the momentary gleam of meeting hers, that + she looked aside, and tried to rule her quickening breath. + </p> + <p> + "Miss Dorcas," said he, "I'm telling this young lady she mustn't forget to + eat her dinner at school. I find she quite ignores it, if she has sums to + do, or blots to erase. Why, it's shocking." + </p> + <p> + "Of course she must eat her dinner!" said Dorcas, tenderly. "Why, yes, of + course! Phoebe, do as he tells you. He knows." + </p> + <p> + Phoebe blushed vividly. + </p> + <p> + "Does he?" she answered, laughing. "Well, I'll see. Good-by, Miss Dorcas. + I'll come in for Friday night meeting, if I don't before. Good-by." + </p> + <p> + "I'll walk along with you," said the doctor. "If you'll let me," he added, + humbly. + </p> + <p> + Phoebe turned away with a little toss of her head, and he turned, too, + breaking a sprig of southernwood. Dorcas was glad to treasure the last + sight of him putting to his lips the fragrant herb she had bruised for his + sake. It seemed to carry over into daylight the joy of the richer night; + it was like seeing the silken thread on which her pearls were strung. She + called to them impetuously,— + </p> + <p> + "Pick all the flowers you want to, both of you!" Then she went in, but she + said aloud to herself, "They're all for you—" and she whispered his + name. + </p> + <p> + "Dorcas," said her father, "the doctor's been here quite a spell. He says + there was a real full meetin.' Even Nancy Pete, Dorcas! I feel as if my + ministration had been abundantly blessed." + </p> + <p> + Then, in that strangest summer in Dorcas's life, time seemed to stand + still. The happiest of all experiences had befallen her; not a succession + of joys, but a permanent delight in one unchanging mood. The evening of + his coming had been the first day; and the evening and the morning had + ever since been the same in glory. He came often, sometimes with Phoebe, + sometimes alone; and, being one of the men on whom women especially lean, + Dorcas soon found herself telling him all the poor trials of her colorless + life. Nothing was too small for his notice. He liked her homely talk of + the garden and the church, and once gave up an hour to spading a plot + where she wanted a new round bed. Dorcas had meant to put lilies there, + but she remembered he loved ladies'-delights; so she gathered them all + together from the nooks and corners of the garden, and set them there, a + sweet, old-fashioned company. "That's for thoughts!" She took to wearing + flowers now, not for the delight of him who loved them, but merely as a + part of her secret litany of worship. She slept deeply at night, and woke + with calm content, to speak one name in the way that forms a prayer. He + was her one possession; all else might be taken away from her, but the + feeling inhabiting her heart must live, like the heart itself. + </p> + <p> + By the time September had yellowed all the fields, there came a week when + Phoebe's aunt, down at the Hollow, was known to be very ill; so Phoebe no + longer came to care for the parson through the Sunday-school hour. But the + doctor appeared, instead. + </p> + <p> + "I'm Phoebe," he said, laughing, when Dorcas met him at the door. "She + can't come; so I told her I'd take her place." + </p> + <p> + These were the little familiar deeds which gilded his name among the + people. Dorcas had been growing used to them. But on the' next Sunday + morning, when she was hurrying about her kitchen, making early + preparations for the cold mid-day meal, a daring thought assailed her. + Phoebe might come to-day, and if the doctor also dropped in, she would ask + them both to dinner. There was no reason for inviting him alone; besides, + it was happier to sit by, leaving him to some one else. Then the two would + talk, and she, with no responsibility, could listen and look, and hug her + secret joy. + </p> + <p> + "I ain't a-goin' to meetin' to-day!" came Nance Pete's voice from the + door. She stood there, smoking prosperously, and took out her pipe, with a + jaunty motion, at the words. "I stopped at Kelup Rivers', on the way over, + an' they gi'n me a good breakfast, an' last week, that young doctor gi'n + me a whole paper o' fine-cut. I ain't a-goin' to meetin'! I'm goin' to se' + down under the old elm, an' have a real good smoke." + </p> + <p> + "O Nancy!" Dorcas had no dreams so happy that such an avalanche could not + sweep them aside. "Now, do! Why, you don't want me to think you go to + church just because I save you some breakfast!" + </p> + <p> + Nance turned away, and put up her chin to watch a wreath of smoke. + </p> + <p> + "I dunno why I don't," said she. "The world's nothin' but buy an' sell. + You know it, an' I know it!' 'Tain't no use coverin' on't up. You heerd + the news? That old fool of a Sim Barker's dead. The doctor, sut up all + night with him, an' I guess now he's layin' on him out. I wouldn't ha' + done it! I'd ha' wropped him up in his old coat, an' glad to git rid on + him! Well, he won't cheat ye out o' no more five-cent pieces, to squander + in terbacker. You might save 'em up for me, now he's done for!" Nance went + stalking away to the gate, flaunting a visible air of fine, free + enjoyment, the product of tobacco and a bright morning. Dorcas watched + her, annoyed, and yet quite helpless; she was outwitted, and she knew it. + Perhaps she sorrowed less deeply over the loss to her pensioner's immortal + soul, thus taking holiday from spiritual discipline, than the serious + problem involved in subtracting one from the congregation. Would a + Sunday-school picnic constitute a bribe worth mentioning? Perhaps not, so + far as Nance was concerned; but her own class might like it, and on that + young blood she depended, to vivify the church. + </p> + <p> + A bit of pink came flashing along the country road. It was Phoebe, walking + very fast. + </p> + <p> + "Dear heart!" said Dorcas, aloud to herself, as the girl came hurriedly up + the path. She was no longer a pretty girl, a nice girl, as the + commendation went. Her face had gained an exalted lift; she was beautiful. + She took Miss Dorcas by the arms, and laughed the laugh that knows itself + in the right, and so will not be shy. + </p> + <p> + "Miss Dorcas," she said, "I've got to tell you right out, or I can't do it + at all. What should you say if I told you I was married?—to the + doctor?" + </p> + <p> + Dorcas looked at her as if she did not hear. + </p> + <p> + "It's begun to get round," went on Phoebe, "and I wanted to give you the + word myself. You see, auntie was sick, and when he was there so much, she + grew to depend on him, and one day, when we'd been engaged a week, she + said, why shouldn't we be married, and he come right to the house to live? + He's only boarding, you know. And nothing to do but it must be done right + off, and so I—I said 'yes! And we were married, Thursday. Auntie's + better, and O Miss Dorcas! I think we're going to have a real good time + together." She threw her arms about Dorcas, and put down her shining brown + head upon them. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas tried to answer. When she did speak, her voice sounded thin and + faint, and she wondered confusedly if Phoebe could hear. + </p> + <p> + "I didn't know—" she said. "I didn't know—" + </p> + <p> + "Why, no, of course not!" returned Phoebe, brightly. "Nobody did. You'd + have been the first, but I didn't want the engagement talked about till + auntie was better. Oh, I believe that's his horse's step! I'll run out, + and ride home with him. You come, too, Miss Dorcas, and just say a word!" + </p> + <p> + Dorcas loosened the girl's arms about her, and, bending to the bright + head, kissed it twice. Phoebe, grown careless in her joy, ran down the + walk to stop the approaching wagon; and when she looked round, Dorcas had + shut the door and gone in. She waited a moment for her to reappear, and + then, remembering the doctor had had no breakfast, she stepped into the + wagon, and they drove happily away. + </p> + <p> + Dorcas went to her bedroom, touching the walls, on the way, with her + groping hands. She sat down on the floor there, and rested her head + against a chair. Once only did she rouse herself, and that was to go into + the kitchen and set away the great bowl of <i>blanc-mange</i> she had been + making for dinner. She had not strained it all, and the sea-weed was + drying on the sieve. Then she went back into the bedroom, and pulled down + the green slat curtains with a shaking hand. Twice her father called her + to bring his sermons, but she only answered, "Yes, father!" in dull + acquiescence, and did not move. She was benumbed, sunken in a gulf of + shame, too faint and cold to save herself by struggling. Her poor innocent + little fictions made themselves into lurid writings on her brain. She had + called him hers while another woman held his vows, and she was degraded. + Her soul was wrecked as truly as if the whole world knew it, and could cry + to her "Shame!" and "Shame!" The church-bells clanged out their judgment + of her. A new thought awakened her to a new despair. She was not fit to + teach in Sunday-school any more. Her girls, her innocent, sweet girls! + There was contagion in her very breath. They must be saved from it; else + when they were old women like her, some sudden vice of tainted blood might + rise up in them, no one would know why, and breed disease and shame. She + started to her feet. Her knees trembling under her, she ran out of the + house, and hid herself behind the great lilac-bush by the gate. + </p> + <p> + Deacon Caleb Rivers came jogging past, late for church, but driving none + the less moderately. His placid-faced wife sat beside him; and Dorcas, + stepping out to stop them, wondered, with a wild pang of perplexity over + the things of this world, if 'Mandy Rivers had ever known the feeling of + death in the soul. Caleb pulled up. + </p> + <p> + "I can't come to Sunday-school, to-day," called Dorcas, stridently. "You + tell them to give Phoebe my class. And ask her if she'll keep it. I + sha'n't teach any more." + </p> + <p> + "Ain't your father so well?" asked Mrs. Rivers, sympathetically, bending + forward and smoothing her mitts. Dorcas caught at the reason. + </p> + <p> + "I sha'n't leave him any more," she said. "You tell 'em so. You fix it." + </p> + <p> + Caleb drove on, and she went back into the house, shrinking under the + brightness of the air which seemed to quiver so before her eyes. She went + into her father's room, where he was awake and wondering. + </p> + <p> + "Seems to me I heard the bells," he said, in his gentle fashion. "Or have + we had the 'hymns, an' got to the sermon?" + </p> + <p> + Dorcas fell on her knees by the bedside. + </p> + <p> + "Father," she began, with difficulty, her cheek laid on the bedclothes + beside his hand, "there was a sermon about women that are lost. What was + that?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, yes," answered the parson, rousing to an active joy in his work. + "'Neither do I condemn thee!' That was it. You git it, Dorcas! We must + remember such poor creatur's; though, Lord be praised! there ain't many + round here. We must remember an' pray for 'em." + </p> + <p> + But Dorcas did not rise. + </p> + <p> + "Is there any hope for them, father?" she asked, her voice muffled. "Can + they be saved?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, don't you remember the poor creatur' that come here an' asked that + very question because she heard I said the Lord was pitiful? Her baby was + born out in the medder, an' died the next day; an' she got up out of her + sickbed at the Poorhouse, an' come totterin' up here, to ask if there was + any use in her sayin', 'Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner!' An' your + mother took her in, an' laid her down on this very bed, an' she died here. + An' your mother hil' her in her arms when she died. You ask her if she + didn't!" The effort of continuous talking wearied him, and presently he + dozed off. Once he woke, and Dorcas was still on her knees, her head + abased. "Dorcas!" he said, and she answered, "Yes, father!" without + raising it; and he slept again. The bell struck, for the end of service. + The parson was awake. He stretched out his hand, and it trembled a moment + and then fell on his daughter's lowly head. + </p> + <p> + "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ—" the parson said, and went + clearly on to the solemn close. + </p> + <p> + "Father," said Dorcas. "Father!" She seemed to be crying to One afar. "Say + the other verse, too. What He told the woman." + </p> + <p> + His hand still on her head, the parson repeated, with a wistful tenderness + stretching back over the past,— + </p> + <p> + "'Neither do I condemn thee; go, and sin no more.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NANCY BOYD'S LAST SERMON + </h2> + <p> + It was the lonesome time of the year: not November, that accomplishment of + a gracious death, but the moment before the conscious spring, when + watercourses have not yet stirred in awakening, and buds are only dreamed + of by trees still asleep but for the sweet trouble within their wood; when + the air finds as yet no response to the thrill beginning to creep where + roots lie blind in the dark; when life is at the one dull, flat instant + before culmination and movement. I had gone down post-haste to my + well-beloved Tiverton, in response to the news sent me by a dear + countrywoman, that Nancy Boyd, whom I had not seen since my long absence + in Europe, was dying of "galloping consumption." Nancy wanted to bid me + good-by. Hiram Cole met me, lean-jawed, dust-colored, wrinkled as of old, + with the overalls necessitated by his "sleddin'" at least four inches too + short. Not the Pyramids themselves were such potent evidence that time may + stand still, withal, as this lank, stooping figure, line for line exactly + what it had been five years before. Hiram helped me into the pung, took + his place beside me, and threw a conversational "huddup" to the + rakish-looking sorrel colt. We dashed sluing away down the country road, + and then I turned to look at my old friend. He was steadfastly gazing at + the landscape ahead, the while he passed one wiry hand over his face, to + smooth out its broadening smile. He was glad to see me, but his private + code of decorum forbade the betrayal of any such "shaller" emotion. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Hiram," I began, "Tiverton looks exactly the same, doesn't it? And + poor Nancy, how is she?" + </p> + <p> + "Nancy's pretty low," said Hiram, drawing his mitten over the hand that + had been used to iron out his smile, and giving critical attention to the + colt's off hind-leg. "She hil' her own all winter, but now, come spring, + she's breakin' up mighty fast. They don't cal'late she'll live more'n a + day or two." + </p> + <p> + "Her poor husband! How will he get along without her!" + </p> + <p> + Hiram turned upon me with vehemence. + </p> + <p> + "Why, don't you know?" said he. "'Ain't nobody told ye? She 'ain't got no + husband." + </p> + <p> + "What? Is the Cap'n dead?" + </p> + <p> + "Dead? Bless ye, he's divorced from Nancy, an' married another woman, two + year ago come this May!" + </p> + <p> + I was amazed, and Hiram looked at me with the undisguised triumph of one + who has news to sell, be it good or bad. + </p> + <p> + "But Nancy has written me!" I said. "She told me the neighborhood gossip; + why didn't she tell me that?" + </p> + <p> + "Pride, I s'pose, pride," said Hiram. "You can't be sure how misery'll + strike folks. It's like a September gale; the best o' barns'll blow down, + an' some rickety shanty'll stan' the strain. But there! Nancy's had more + to bear from the way she took her troubles than from the troubles + themselves. Ye see, 'twas this way. Cap'n Jim had his own reasons for + wantin' to git rid of her, an' I guess there was a time when he treated + her pretty bad. I guess he as good's turned her out o' house an' home, an' + when he sued for divorce for desertion, she never said a word; an' he got + it, an' up an' married, as soon as the law'd allow, Nancy never opened her + head, all through it. She jest settled down, with a bed an' a chair or + two, in that little house she owned down by Wilier Brook, an' took in + tailorin' an' mendin'. One spell, she bound shoes. The whole town was with + her till she begun carryin' on like a crazed creatur', as she did + arterwards." + </p> + <p> + My heart sank. Poor Nancy! if she had really incurred the public scorn, it + must have been through dire extremity. + </p> + <p> + "Ye see," Hiram continued, "folks were sort o' tried with her from the + beginnin'. You know what a good outfit she had from her mother's side,—bureaus, + an' beddin', an' everything complete? Well, she left it all right there in + the house, for Jim to use, an' when he brought his new woman home, there + the things set jest the same, an' he never said a word. I don't deny he + ought to done different, but then, if Nancy wouldn't look out for her own + interests, you can't blame him so much, now can ye? But the capsheaf come + about a year ago, when Nancy had a smart little sum o' money left her,—nigh + onto a hunderd dollars. Jim he'd got into debt, an' his oxen died, an' one + thing an' another, he was all wore out, an' had rheumatic fever; an' if + you'll b'lieve it, Nancy she went over an' done the work, an' let his wife + nuss him. She wouldn't step foot into the bedroom, they said; she never + see Jim once, but there she was, slavin' over the wash-tub and + ironin'-board,—an' as for that money, I guess it went for doctor's + stuff an' what all, for Jim bought a new yoke of oxen in the spring." + </p> + <p> + "But the man! the other wife! how could they?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Jim's wife's a pretty tough-hided creatur', an' as for him, I al'ays + thought the way Nancy behaved took him kind o' by surprise, an' he had to + give her her head, an' let her act her pleasure. But it made a sight o' + town talk. Some say Nancy ain't quite bright to carry on so, an' the + women-folks seem to think she's a good deal to blame, one way or another. + Anyhow, she's had a hard row to hoe. Here we be, an' there's Hannah at the + foreroom winder. You won't think o' goin' over to Nancy's till arter + supper, will ye?" + </p> + <p> + When I sat alone beside Nancy's bed, that night, I had several sides of + her sad story in mind, but none of them lessened the dreariness of the + tragedy. Before my brief acquaintance with her, Nancy was widely known as + a travelling-preacher, one who had "the power." She must have been a + strangely attractive creature, in those early days, alert, intense, gifted + with such a magnetic reaching into another life that it might well set her + aside from the commoner phases of a common day, and crowned, as with + flame, by an unceasing aspiration for the highest. At thirty, she married + a dashing sailor, marked by the sea, even to the rings in his ears; and + when I knew them, they were solidly comfortable and happy, in a way very + reassuring to one who could understand Nancy's temperament; for she was + one of those who, at every step, are flung aside from the world's sharp + corners, bruised and bleeding. + </p> + <p> + As to the storm and shipwreck of her life, I learned no particulars + essentially new. Evidently her husband had suddenly run amuck, either from + the monotony of his inland days, or from the strange passion he had + conceived for a woman who was Nancy's opposite. + </p> + <p> + That night, I sat in the poor, bare little room, beside the billowing + feather-bed where Nancy lay propped upon pillows, and gazing with bright, + glad eyes into my face, one thin little hand clutching mine with the grasp + of a soul who holds desperately to life. And yet Nancy was not clinging to + life itself; she only seemed to be, because she clung to love. + </p> + <p> + "I'm proper glad to see ye," she kept saying, "proper glad." + </p> + <p> + We were quite alone. The fire burned cheerily in the kitchen stove, and a + cheap little clock over the mantel ticked unmercifully fast; it seemed in + haste for Nancy to be gone. The curtains were drawn, lest the thrifty + window-plants should be frostbitten, and several tumblers of jelly on the + oilcloth-covered table bore witness that the neighbors had put aside their + moral scruples and their social delicacy, and were giving of their best, + albeit to one whose ways were not their ways. But Nancy herself was the + centre and light of the room,—so frail, so clean, with her plain + nightcap and coarse white nightgown, and the small checked shawl folded + primly over her shoulders. Thin as she was, she looked scarcely older than + when I had seen her, five years ago; yet since then she had walked through + a blacker valley than the one before her. + </p> + <p> + "Now don't you git all nerved up when I cough," she said, lying back + exhausted after a paroxysm. "I've got used to it; it don't trouble me no + more'n a mosquiter. I want to have a real good night now, talkin' over old + times." + </p> + <p> + "You must try to sleep," I said. "The doctor will blame me, if I let you + talk." + </p> + <p> + "No, he won't," said Nancy, shrewdly. "He knows I 'ain't got much time + afore me, an' I guess he wouldn't deny me the good on't. That's why I sent + for ye, dear; I 'ain't had anybody I could speak out to in five year, an' + I wanted to speak out, afore I died. Do you remember how you used to come + over an' eat cold b'iled dish for supper, that last summer you was down + here?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, don't I, Nancy! there never was anything like it. Such cold potatoes—" + </p> + <p> + "B'iled in the pot-liquor!" she whispered, a knowing gleam in her blue + eyes. "That's the way; on'y everybody don't know. An' do you remember the + year we had greens way into the fall, an' I wouldn't tell you what they + was? Well, I will, now; there was chickweed, an' pusley, an' mustard, an' + Aaron's-rod, an' I dunno what all." + </p> + <p> + "Not Aaron's-rod, Nancy! it never would have been so good!" + </p> + <p> + "It's truth an' fact! I b'iled Aaron's-rod, an' you eat it. That was the + year Mis' Blaisdell was mad because you had so many meals over to my + house, an' said it was the last time she'd take summer boarders an' have + the neighbors feed 'em." + </p> + <p> + "They were good old days, Nancy!" + </p> + <p> + "I guess they were! yes, indeed, I guess so! Now, dear, I s'pose you've + heard what I've been through, sence you went away?" + </p> + <p> + I put the thin hand to my cheek. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," I said, "I have heard." + </p> + <p> + "Well, now, I want to tell you the way it 'pears to me. You'll hear the + neighbors' side, an' arter I'm gone, they'll tell you I was under-witted + or bold. They've been proper good to me sence I've been sick, but law! + what do they know about it, goin' to bed at nine o'clock, an' gittin' up + to feed the chickens an' ride to meetin' with their husbands? No more'n + the dead! An' so I want to tell ye my story, myself. Now, don't you mind + my coughing dear! It don't hurt, to speak of, an' I feel better arter it. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I dunno where to begin. The long an' short of it was, dear, James + he got kind o' uneasy on land, an' then he was tried with me, an' then he + told me, one night, when he spoke out, that he didn't care about me as he + used to, an' he never should, an' we couldn't live no longer under the + same roof. He was goin' off the next day to sea, or to the devil, he said, + so he needn't go crazy seein' Mary Ann Worthen's face lookin' at him all + the time. It ain't any use tryin' to tell how I felt. Some troubles ain't + no more 'n a dull pain, an' some are like cuts an' gashes. You can feel + your heart drop, drop, like water off the eaves. Mine dropped for a good + while arter that. Well, you see I'd been through the fust stages of it. + I'd been eat up by jealousy, an' I'd slaved like a dog to git him back; + but now it had got beyond such folderol. He was in terrible trouble, an' + I'd got to git him out. An' I guess 'twas then that I begun to feel as if + I was his mother, instid of his wife. 'Jim,' says I, (somehow I have to + Say 'James,' now we're separated!) 'don't you fret. I'll go off an' leave + ye, an' you can get clear o' me accordin' to law, if you want to. I'm sure + you can. I sha'n't care.' He turned an' looked at me, as if I was crazed + or he was himself, 'You won't care?' he says. 'No,' says I, 'I sha'n't + care.' I said it real easy, for 'twas true. Somehow, I'd got beyond + carin'. My heart dropped blood, but I couldn't bear to have him in + trouble. 'They al'ays told me I was cut out for an old maid,' I says, 'an' + I guess I be. Housekeepin' 's a chore, anyway. You let all the stuff set + right here jest as we've had it, an' ask Cap'n Fuller to come an' bring + his chist; an' I'll settle down in the Willer Brook house an' make + button-holes. It's real pretty work.' You see, the reason I was so high + for it was 't I knew if he went to sea, he'd git in with a swearin', + drinkin' set, as he did afore, an' in them days such carryin's-on were + dretful to me. If I'd known he'd marry, I dunno what course I should ha' + took; for nothin' could ha' made that seem right to me, arter all had come + and gone. But I jest thought how James was a dretful handy man about the + house, an' I knew he set by Cap'n Fuller. The Cap'n 'ain't no real home, + you know, an' I thought they'd admire to bach it together." + </p> + <p> + "Did you ever wonder whether you had done right? Did you ever think it + would have been better for him to keep his promises to you? For him to be + unhappy?" + </p> + <p> + A shade of trouble crossed her face. + </p> + <p> + "I guess I did!" she owned. "At fust, I was so anxious to git out o' his + way, I never thought of anything else; but when I got settled down here, + an' had all my time for spec'latin' on things, I was a good deal put to 't + whether I'd done the best anybody could. But I didn't reason much, in them + days; I jest felt. All was, I couldn't bear to have James tied to me when + he'd got so's to hate me. Well, then he married—" + </p> + <p> + "Was she a good woman?" + </p> + <p> + "Good enough, yes; a leetle mite coarse-grained, but well-meanin' all + through. Well, now, you know the neighbors blamed me for lettin' her have + my things. Why, bless you, I didn't need 'em! An' Jim had used 'em so many + years, he'd ha' missed 'em if they'd been took away. Then he never was + forehanded, an' how could he ha' furnished a house all over ag'in, I'd + like to know? The neighbors never understood. The amount of it was, they + never was put in jest such a place, any of 'em." + </p> + <p> + "O Nancy, Nancy!" I said, "you cared for just one thing, and it was gone. + You didn't care for the tables and chairs that were left behind!" + </p> + <p> + Two tears came, and dimmed her bright blue eyes. Her firm, delicate mouth + quivered. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," she said, "you see how 'twas. I knew you would. Well, arter he was + married, there was a spell when 'twas pretty tough. Sometimes I couldn't + hardly help goin' over there by night an' peekin' into the winder, an' + seein' how they got along. I went jest twice. The fust time was late in + the fall, an' she was preservin' pears by lamplight. I looked into the + kitchin winder jest as she was bendin' over the stove, tryin' the syrup, + an' he was holdin' the light for her to see. I dunno what she said, but + 'twas suthin' that made 'em both laugh out, an' then they turned an' + looked at one another, proper pleased. I dunno why, but it took right hold + o' me, an' I started runnin' an' I never stopped till I got in, here an' + onto my own bed. I thought 'twould ha' been massiful if death had took me + that night, but I'm glad it didn't, dear, I'm glad it didn't! I shouldn't + ha' seen ye, if it had, an' there's a good many things I shouldn't ha' had + time to study out. You jest put a mite o' cayenne pepper in that cup, an' + turn some hot water on it. It kind o' warms me up." + </p> + <p> + After a moment's rest, she began again. + </p> + <p> + "The next time I peeked was the last, for that night they'd had some + words, an' they both set up straight as a mack'rel, an' wouldn't speak to + one another. That hurt me most of anything. I never've got over the + feelin' that I was James's mother, an' that night I felt sort o' bruised + all through, as if some stranger'd been hurtin' him. So I never went + spyin' on 'em no more. I felt as if I couldn't stan' it. But when I went + to help her with the work, that time he was sick, I guess the neighbors + thought I hadn't any sense of how a right-feelin' woman ought to act. I + guess they thought I was sort o' coarse an' low, an' didn't realize what + I'd, been through. Dear, don't you never believe it. The feelin' that's + between husband an' wife's like a live creatur', an' when he told me that + night that he didn't prize me no more, he wounded it; an' when he married + the other woman, he killed it dead. If he'd ha' come back to me then, an' + swore he was the same man I married, I could ha' died for him, jest as I + would this minute, but he never should ha' touched me. But suthin' had riz + up in the place o' the feelin' I had fust, so't I never could ha' helped + doin' for him, any more'n if he'd been my own child." + </p> + <p> + "'In the resurrection, they neither marry nor are given in marriage!'" + </p> + <p> + "I guess that's it," said Nancy. "On'y you have to live through a good + deal afore you understand it. Well, now, dear, I'm nearin' the end. + There's one thing that's come to me while I've been livin' through this, + that I 'ain't never heard anybody mention; an' I want you to remember it, + so's you can tell folks that are in great trouble, the way I've been. I've + been thinkin' on't out that there's jest so much of everything in the + world,—so much gold, so much silver, so many di'monds. You can't + make no more nor no less. All you can do is to pass 'em about from hand to + hand, so't sometimes here'll be somebody that's rich, an' then it'll slip + away from him, an' he'll be poor. Now, accordin' to my lights, it's jes' + so with love. There's jest so much, an' when it's took away from you, an' + passed over to somebody else, it's alive, it's there, same as ever it was. + So 't you ain't goin' to say it's all holler an' empty, this world. You're + goin' to say, 'Well, it's som'er's, if 'tain't with me!'" + </p> + <p> + Nancy had straightened herself, without the support of her pillows. Her + eyes were bright. A faint flush had come upon her cheeks. A doctor would + have told me that my devoted friendship had not saved me from being a + wretched nurse. + </p> + <p> + "My home was broke up," she went on, "but there's a nice, pretty house + there jest the same. There's a contented couple livin' in it, an' what if + the wife ain't me? It ain't no matter. P'r'aps it's a lot better that + somebody else should have it, somebody that couldn't git along alone; an' + not me, that can see the rights o' things. Jest so much love, dear—don't + you forgit that—no matter where 'tis! An' James could take his love + away from me, but the Lord A'mighty himself can't take mine from him. An' + so 'tis, the world over. You can al'ays love folks, an' do for 'em, even + if your doin' 's only breakin' your heart an' givin' 'em up. An' do you + s'pose there's any sp'ere o' life where I sha'n't be allowed to do + somethin' for James? I guess not, dear, I guess not, even if it's only + keepin' away from him." + </p> + <p> + Nancy lived three days, in a state of delighted content with us and our + poor ministrations; and only once did we approach the subject of that + solemn night. As the end drew near, I became more and more anxious to know + if she had a wish unfulfilled, and at length I ventured to ask her softly, + when we were alone,— + </p> + <p> + "Would you like to see him?" + </p> + <p> + Her bright eyes looked at me, in a startled way. + </p> + <p> + "No, dear, no," she said, evidently surprised that I could ask it. "Bless + you, no!" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + STROLLERS IN TIVERTON + </h2> + <p> + In Tiverton, when reminiscences are in order, we go back to one very rich + year; then the circus and strolling players came to town, and the usual + camp-meeting was followed by an epidemic of scarlet fever, which might + have stood forth as the judgment of heaven, save that the newly converted + were stricken first and undoubtedly fared hardest. Hiram Cole said it was + because they'd "got all their nerve-juice used up, hollerin' hallelujah." + But that I know not. This theory of nerve-juice, was a favorite one with + Hiram: he contended that it had a powerful hand in determining the results + of presidential elections; and, indeed, in swaying the balance of power + among the nations of the earth. + </p> + <p> + Even in the early spring, there had been several cases of fever at + Sudleigh; and so, when the circus made application for a license to take + possession of the town, according to olden custom, the public authorities + very wisely refused. Tiverton, however, was wroth at this arbitrary + restriction. For more years than I can say, she had driven over to + Sudleigh "to see the caravan;" and now, through some crack-brained theory + of contagion, the caravan was to be barred out. We never really believed + that the town-fathers had taken their highhanded measure on account of + scarlet fever. We saw in it some occult political significance, and + referred ominously to the butter we carried there on Saturdays, and to the + possibility that, if they cast us off, a separation might affect them far + more seriously than it would us. But to our loud-voiced delight, the + caravan, finding that it was to be within hailing distance, and unwilling + to pass on without further tribute, extended the sceptre to Tiverton + herself; and Brad Freeman joyfully discussed the project of making a + circus ground of his old race-course, which, he declared, he had purposed + planting with tobacco. We never knew whether to believe this or not, + though we had many times previously gone over Brad's calculation, by which + he figured that he could sell at least three tons of fine-cut from one + summer's produce. To that specious logic, we always listened with + unwilling admiration; but when we could shake off the glamour inseparable + from a problem made to come out right, we were accustomed to turn to one + another, demanding with cold scepticism, "Where'd he git his seed?" + </p> + <p> + In spite of the loss of this potential crop, however, Brad was + magnanimously willing to let his field; and Tiverton held her head high, + in the prospect of having a circus of her own. We intimated that it would + undoubtedly be fair weather, owing to our superior moral desert as + compared with that of Sudleigh, which was annually afflicted with what had + long been known as "circus-weather." For Sudleigh had sinned, and Nature + was thenceforth deputed to pay her back, in good old Hebrew style. One + circus-day—before the war, as I believe—Sudleigh fenced up the + spring in a corner of her grounds, and with a foolish thrift sold + ice-water to the crowd, at a penny a glass. Tiverton was furious, and so, + apparently, were the just heavens; for every circus-day thereafter it + rained, in a fashion calculated to urge any forehanded Noah into immediate + action. We of Tiverton never allowed our neighbor to forget her criminal + lapse. When, on circus-afternoon, we met one of the rival township, + dripping as ourselves, we said, with all the cheerfulness of conscious + innocence,— + </p> + <p> + "Water enough for everybody, to-day! Guess ye won't have to peddle none + out!" + </p> + <p> + "Seems to be comin' down pretty fast! You better build a platfoam over + that spring! Go hard with ye if't overflowed!" + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, Sudleigh seemed to regard these time-licensed remarks with + little favor; she even intimated that they smacked of the past, and were + wearisome in her nostrils. But not for that did we halt in their + distribution. Moreover, we flaunted our domestic loyalty by partaking of + no Sudleigh fluid within the grounds. We carried tea, coffee, lemonade, + milk, an ambitious variety of drinks, in order that even our children + might be spared the public disgrace of tasting Sudleigh water; and it was + a part of our excellent fooling to invite every Sudleighian to drink with + us. Even the virtues, however, spare their votaries no pang; and in every + family, this unbending fealty resulted in the individual members' betaking + themselves to the pump or well, immediately on getting home, even before + attempting to unharness. About five o'clock, on circus-afternoon, there + would be a general rumbling of buckets and creaking of sweeps, while a + chorus rose to heaven, "My! I was 'most choked!" + </p> + <p> + But our <i>fête</i>-day dawned bright and speckless. We rose before three + o'clock, every man, woman and child of us, to see the procession come into + town. It would leave the railway at Sudleigh, and we had a faint hope of + its forming in regulation style, and sweeping into Tiverton, a blaze of + glittering chariots surmounted by queens of beauty, of lazy beasts of the + desert sulking in their cages, and dainty-stepping horses, ridden by bold + amazons. For a time, the expectation kept us bright and hopeful, although + most of us had only taken a "cold bite" before starting; but as the + eastern saffron pencilled one line of light and the bird chorus swelled in + piercing glory, we grew cross and all unbefitting the smiling morn. Only + Dilly Joyce looked sunshiny as ever, for she had no domestic cares to + beckon her; she and Nance Pete, who was in luck that day, having a full + pipe. Dilly had nestled into a rock, curved in the form of a chair, and + lay watching the eastern sky, a faint smile of pleasure parting her lips + when the saffron hardened into gold. + </p> + <p> + "Nice, dear, ain't it?" she said, as I paused a moment near her, "I al'ays + liked the side o' the road. But it's kind o' disturbin' to have so much + talk. I dunno's you can help it, though, where there's so many people. + Most o' the time, I'm better on't to home, but I did want to see an + elephant near to!" + </p> + <p> + The sky broadened into light, and the birds jeered at us, poor, draggled + folk who lived in boxes and were embarrassed by the morn. The men grew + nervous, for milking-time was near, and in imagination I have no doubt + they heard the lowing of reproachful kine. + </p> + <p> + "Well, 'tain't no use," said Eli Pike, rising from the stone-wall, and + stretching himself, with decision. "I've got to 'tend to them cows, + whether or no!" And he strolled away on the country-road, without a look + behind. Most of the other men, as in honor bound, followed him; and the + women, with loud-voiced protest against an obvious necessity, trailed + after them, to strain the milk. Only we who formed the gypsy element were + left behind. + </p> + <p> + "I call it a real shame!" announced Mrs. Pike, gathering her summer shawl + about her shoulders, and stepping away with an offended dignity such as no + delinquent elephant could have faced. "I warrant ye, they wouldn't ha' + treated Sudleigh so. They wouldn't ha' dared!" + </p> + <p> + "I dunno's Sudleigh's any more looked up to'n we be," said Caleb Rivers, + who had been so tardy in bestirring himself that he formed a part of the + women's corps. "I guess, if the truth was known, Tiverton covers more + land'n Sudleigh does, on'y Sudleigh's all humped up together into a quart + bowl. I guess there's countries that 'ain't heard o' Sudleigh, an' + wouldn't stan' much in fear if they had!" + </p> + <p> + And so Tiverton dispersed, unamiably, and with its public pride hurt to + the quick. I tried to take pattern by Dilly Joyce, and steal from nature a + little of the wonderful filial enjoyment which came to her unsought. When + Dilly watched the sky, I did, also; when she brightened at sound of a bird + hitherto silent, I tried to set down his notes in my memory; and when she + closed her eyes, and shut out the world, to think it over, I did the same. + But the result was different. Probably Dilly opened hers again upon the + lovely earth, but I drifted off into dreamland, and only awoke, two hours + after, to find the scenes marvellously changed. It was bright, steady + morning, the morning come to stay. Tiverton had performed its dairy rites, + and returned again, enlivened by a cup of tea; and oh, incredible joy! + there was a grunting and panting, a swaying of mighty flanks. The circus + was approaching, from Sudleigh way. Instantly I was alert and on my feet, + for it would have been impossible to miss the contagion of the general + joy. I knew how we felt, not as individuals, but as Tivertonians alone. We + were tolerant potentates, waiting, in gracious majesty, to receive a + deputation from the farther East. It grieves me much to stop here and + confess, with a necessary honesty, that this was but a sorry circus, + gauged by the conventional standards; else, I suppose, it had never come + to Tiverton at all. The circus-folk had evidently dressed for travelling, + not for us. The chariots, some of them still hooded in canvas, were very + small and tarnished. There were but three elephants, two camels, and a + most meagre display of those alluring cages made to afford even the + careless eye a sudden, quickening glimpse of restless, tawny form, or + slothful hulk within. Yet why depreciate the raw material whereof Fancy + has power divine to build her altogether perfect heights? Here was the + plain, homely setting of our plainer lives, and right into the midst of it + had come the East. The elephants affected us most; we probably thought + little about the immemorial mystery, the vague, occult tradition wrapped + in that mouse-colored hide; but even to our dense Western imagination such + quickening suggestion was vividly apparent. We knew our world; usually it + seemed to us the only one, even when we looked at the stars. But at least + one other had been created, and before us appeared its visible sign,—my + lord the elephant! There he was, swaying along, conscious philosopher, + conscious might, yet holding his omniscience in the background, and + keeping a wary eye out for the peanuts with which we simple country souls + had not provided ourselves. There was one curious thing about it all. We + had seen the circus at Sudleigh, as I have said, yet the fact of + entertaining it within our borders made it seem exactly as if we had never + laid eyes upon it before. This was our caravan, and God Almighty had + created the elephant for us. Dilly Joyce slipped her hand quickly in mine + and pressed it hard. She was quite pale. Yet it was she who acted upon the + first practical thought. She recovered herself before my lord went by, + took a ginger cookie from her pocket, and put it into Davie Tolman's hand. + </p> + <p> + "Here," she said, pushing him forward, "you go an' offer it to him. He'll + take it. See'f he don't!" + </p> + <p> + Davie accepted the mission with joy, and persisted in it until he found + himself close beside that swaying bulk, and saw the long trunk curved + enticingly toward him. Then he uttered one explosive howl, and fell back + on the very toes of us who were pressing forward to partake, by right of + sympathy, in the little drama. + </p> + <p> + "Lordy Massy, keep still!" cried out Nance Pete; and she snatched him up + bodily, and held him out to the elephant. I believe my own pang at that + moment to have been general. I forgot that elephants are not carnivorous, + and shuddered back, under the expectation of seeing Davie devoured, hide + and hair. But Nance had the address to stiffen the little arm, and my lord + took the cookie, still clutched in the despairing hand, and passed on. + Then Davie wiped his eyes, after peeping stealthily about to see whether + any one was disposed to jeer at him, and took such courage that he posed, + ever after, as the hero of the day. + </p> + <p> + The procession had nearly passed us when we saw a sight calculated to + animate us anew with a justifiable pride. Sudleigh itself, its young men + and maidens, old men and children, was following the circus into our town. + It would not have a circus of its own, forsooth, but it would share in + ours! We, as by one consent, assumed an air of dignified self-importance. + We were the hosts of the day; we bowed graciously to such of our guests as + we knew, and, with a mild tolerance, looked over the heads of those who + were unfamiliar. Yet nothing checked our happy companionship with the + caravan; still we followed by the side of the procession, through tangles + of blackberry vine, and over ditch and stubble. Some of the boys mounted + the walls, and ran wildly, dislodging stones as they went, and earning no + reproof from the fathers who, on any other day, would have been alive to a + future mowing and the clashing of scythe and rock. There was, moreover, an + impression abroad that our progress could by no means be considered devoid + of danger. + </p> + <p> + "S'pose that fellar should rise up, an' wrench off them bars!" suggested + Heman Blaisdell, pointing out one cage where a great creature, gaudy in + stripes, paced back and forth, throwing us an occasional look of scorn and + great despite. "I wouldn't give much for my chances! Nor for anybody + else's!" + </p> + <p> + "My soul an' body!" ejaculated a woman. "I hope they don't forgit to lock + them cages up! Folks git awful careless when they do a thing every day! I + forgot to shet up the hins last week, an' that was the night the skunk got + in." + </p> + <p> + "I'm glad Brad brought his gun," said another, in the tone of one who + would have crossed herself had there been a saint to help. And thereafter + we kept so thickly about Brad, walking with his long free stride, that his + progress became impeded, and he almost fell over us. Suddenly, from the + front, a man's voice rose in an imperative cry,— + </p> + <p> + "Turn round! turn round!" + </p> + <p> + Quite evidently the mandate was addressed to us, and we turned in a mass, + fleeing back into Sudleigh's very arms. For a moment, it was like Sparta + and Persia striving in the Pass; then Sudleigh turned also, such as were + on foot, and fled with us. We pressed up the bank, as soon as we could + collect our errant wits; some of us, with a sense of coming calamity, + mounted the very wall, and there we had a moment to look about us. The + caravan was keeping steadily on, like fate and taxes, and facing it stood + a carryall attached to a frightened horse. On the front seat, erect in her + accustomed majesty, sat Aunt Melissa Adams; and Uncle Hiram, ever a humble + charioteer, was by her side. They, too, had driven out to see the circus, + but alas! it had not struck them that they might meet it midway, with no + volition of drawing up at the side of the road and allowing it to pass. + The old horse, hardened to the vicissitudes of many farming seasons, had + necessarily no acquaintance with the wild beasts of the Orient; no past + experience, tucked away in his wise old head, could explain them in the + very least. He plunged and reared; he snorted with fear, and Aunt Melissa + began to emit shrieks of such volume and quality that the mangy lion, + composing himself to sleep in his cage, rose, and sent forth a cry that + Tiverton will long remember. We did not stop to explain our forebodings, + but we were sure that, in some mysterious way, Aunt Melissa was doomed, + and that she had brought her misfortune on herself. A second Daniel, she + had no special integrity to stand her in need. And still the circus + advanced, and the horse snorted and backed. He was a gaunt old beast, but + in his terror, one moment of beauty dignified him beyond belief. His head + was high, his eyes were starting. + </p> + <p> + "Turn round!" cried the men, but Uncle Hiram was paralyzed, and the reins + lay supine in his hands, while he screamed a wheezy "Whoa!" Then Brad + Freeman, as usual in cases outside precedent, became the good angel of + Tiverton. He forced his gun on the person nearest at hand—who proved + to be Nance Pete—and dashed forward. Seizing the frightened horse by + the head, he cramped the wheel scientifically, and turned him round. Then + he gave him a smack on the flank, and the carryall went reeling and + swaying back into Tiverton, the <i>avant-courrier</i> of the circus. You + should have heard Aunt Melissa's account of that ride, an epic moment + which she treasured, in awe, to the day of her death. According to her, it + asked no odds from the wild huntsman, or the Gabriel hounds. Well, we + cowards came down from the wall, assuring each other, with voices still + shaking a little, that we knew it was nothing, after all, and that nobody + but Aunt Melissa would make such a fuss. How she did holler! we said, with + conscious pride in our own self-possession when brought into unexpectedly + close relations with wild beasts; and we trudged happily along through the + dust stirred by alien trampling, back to Tiverton Street, and down into + Brad Freeman's field. It would hardly be possible to describe our joy in + watching the operation of tent-raising, nor our pride in Brad Freeman, + when he assumed the character of host, and not only made the circus-folk + free of the ground they had hired, but hurried here and there, helping + with such address and muscular vigor that we felt defrauded in never + having known how accomplished he really was. The strollers recognized his + type, in no time; they were joking with him and clapping him on the back + before the first tent had been unrolled. Now, none of us had ever seen a + circus performer, save in the ring; and I think we were disappointed, for + a moment, at finding we had in our midst no spangled angels in rosy + tights, no athletes standing on their heads by choice, and quite + preferring the landscape upside down, but a set of shabbily dressed, + rather jaded men and women, who were, for all the world, just like + ourselves, save that they walked more gracefully, and spoke in softer + voice. But when the report went round that the cook was getting breakfast + ready—out of doors, too!—we were more than compensated for the + loss of such tinsel joys. Chattering and eager, we ran over to the + dining-tent, and there, close beside it, found the little kitchen, its + ovens smoking hot, and a man outside, aproned and capped, cutting up chops + and steaks, with careless deftness, and laying them in the great iron + pans, preparatory to broiling. + </p> + <p> + "By all 't's good an' bad!" swore Tom McNeil, a universal and sweeping + oath he much affected, "they've got a whole sheep an' a side o' beef! + Well, it's high livin', an' no mistake!" + </p> + <p> + We who considered a few pies a baking, watched this wholesale cookery in + bewildered fascination. A savory smell arose to heaven. I never was so + hungry in my life, and I believe all Tiverton would own to the same + craving. Perhaps some wild instinct sprang up in us with the scent of meat + in out-door air, but at any rate, we became much exhilarated, and our + attention was only turned from the beguiling chops by Mrs. Wilson's + saying, in a low tone, to her husband,— + </p> + <p> + "Lothrop, if there ain't Lucindy, an' that Molly McNeil with her! What's + Lucindy got? My sake alive! you might ha' known she'd do suthin' to make + anybody wish they'd stayed to home. If you can git near her, you keep a + tight holt on her, or she'll be jumpin' through a hoop!" + </p> + <p> + I turned, with the rest. Yes, there was Miss Lucindy, tripping happily + across the level field. Molly McNeil hastened beside her, and between them + they carried a large clothes-basket, overflowing with flaming orange-red; + a basket heaped with sunset, not the dawn! They were very near me when I + guessed what it was; so near that I could see the happy smile on Lucindy's + parted lips, and note how high the rose flush had risen in her delicate + cheek, with happiness and haste. + </p> + <p> + "Stortions!" broke out a voice near me, in virile scorn,—Nance + Pete's,—"stortions! Jes' like her! Better picked 'em a mess o' + pease!" + </p> + <p> + It was, indeed, a basket of red nasturtiums, and the sun had touched them + into a glory like his own. For one brief moment, we were ashamed of + Lucindy's "shallerness" and irrelevancy; but the circus people interpreted + her better. They rose from box and hamper where they had been listlessly + awaiting their tardy breakfast, and crowded forward to meet her. They + knew, through the comradeship of all Bohemia, exactly what she meant. + </p> + <p> + "My!" said Miss Lucindy, smiling full at them as they came,—her old, + set smile had been touched, within a year, by something glad and free,—"set + 'em down now, Molly. My! are you the folks? Well, I thought you'd seem + different, somehow, but anyway, we brought you over a few blooms. We + thought you couldn't have much time, movin' round so, to work in your + gardins, especially the things you have to sow every year. Yes, dear, yes! + Take a good handful. Here's a little mignonette I put in the bottom, so't + everybody could have a sprig. Yes, there's enough for the men, too. Why, + yes, help yourself! Law, dear, why don't you take off your veil? Hot as + this is!" for the bearded lady, closely masked in black <i>barège</i>, had + come forward and hungrily stretched out a great hand for her share. + </p> + <p> + We never knew how it all happened, but during this clamor of happy voices, + the chops were cooked and the coffee boiled; the circus people turned + about, and trooped into the tent where the tables were set, and they took + Miss Lucindy with them. Yes, they did! Molly McNeil stayed contentedly + outside; for though she had brought her share of the treasure, quite + evidently she considered herself a friendly helper, not a partner in the + scheme. But Miss Lucindy was the queen of the carnival. We heard one girl + say to another, as our eccentric townswoman swept past us, in the eager + crowd, "Oh, the dear old thing!" We saw a sad-eyed girl bend forward, lift + a string of Miss Lucindy's apron (which, we felt, should have been left + behind in the kitchen) and give it a hearty kiss. Later, when, by little + groups, we peeped into the dining-tent, we saw Miss Lucindy sitting there + at the table, between two women who evidently thought her the very nicest + person that had ever crossed their wandering track. There she was, an + untouched roll and chop on her plate, a cup of coffee by her side. She was + not talking. She only smiled happily at those who talked to her, and her + eyes shone very bright. We were ashamed; I confess it. For was not + Sudleigh, also, there to see? + </p> + <p> + "Oh, my soul!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, in fretful undertone. "I wish the + old Judge was here!" + </p> + <p> + Her husband turned and looked at her, and she quailed; not with fear of + him, but at the vision of the outraged truth. + </p> + <p> + "Well, no," she added, weakly, "I dunno's I wish anything so bad as that, + but I do declare I think there ought to be somebody to keep a tight grip + on Lucindy!" + </p> + <p> + Who shall deem himself worthy to write the chronicle of that glorious day? + There were so many incidents not set down in the logical drama; so many + side-shows of circumstance! We watched all the mysterious preparations for + the afternoon performance, so far as we were allowed, with the keenness of + the wise, who recognize a special wonder and will not let it pass + unproved. We surrounded Miss Lucindy, when she came away from her + breakfast party, and begged for an exact account of all her entertainers + had said; but she could tell us nothing. She only reiterated, with eyes + sparkling anew, that they were "proper nice folks, proper nice! and she + must go home and get Ellen. If she'd known they were just like other folks + she'd have brought Ellen this morning; but she'd been afraid there'd be + talk that little girls better not hear." + </p> + <p> + At noon, we sat about in the shade of the trees along the wall, and ate + delicious cold food from the butter-boxes and baskets our men-folks had + brought over during the forenoon lull; and we assiduously offered Sudleigh + a drink, whenever it passed the counter where barrels of free spring-water + had been set. And then, at the first possible moment, we paid our fee, and + went inside the tent to see the animals. That scrubby menagerie had not + gained in dignity from its transference to canvas walls. The enclosure was + very hot and stuffy; there was a smell of dust and straw. The lion + stretched himself, from time to time, and gave an angry roar for savage, + long-lost joys. One bear, surely new to the business, kept walking up and + down, up and down, moaning, in an abandon of homesickness. Brad Freeman + stood before the cage when I was there. + </p> + <p> + "Say, Brad," said the Crane boy, slipping his arm into the hunter's, in a + good-fellowship sure to be reciprocated. "Davie Tolman said you's goin' to + fetch over your fox, an' sell him to the circus. Be you?" + </p> + <p> + "My Lord!" answered Brad, very violently for him, the ever-tolerant. "No! + I'm goin' to let him go. <i>Look at that!</i>" And while the Crane boy, + unconcerned, yet puzzled, gave his full attention to the bear, Brad passed + on. + </p> + <p> + There was a wolf, I remember, darting about his cage, slinking, furtive, + ever on a futile prowl. He especially engaged the interest of Tom McNeil, + who said admiringly, as I, too, looked through the bars, "Ain't he a + prompt little cuss?" I felt that with Tom it was the fascination of + opposites; he never could understand superlative energy. + </p> + <p> + Just as we were trooping into the larger tent (there were no three rings, + I beg to say, maliciously calculated to distract the attention! One, of a + goodly size, was quite enough for us!) a little voice piped up, "The + snake's got loose!" How we surged and panted, and fought one another for + our sacred lives! In vain were we urged to stand still; we strove the + more. And when a bit of rope perversely and maliciously coiled itself + round Rosa Tolman's ankle, she gave a shriek so loud and despairing that + it undid us anew. If Sheriff Holmes had not come forward and sworn at us, + I believe we should have trampled one another out of existence; but he + seemed so palpably the embodiment of authority, and his oath the oath + undoubtedly selected by legislature for that very occasion, that we + paused, and on the passionate asseveration of a circus man that the snake + was safely in his cage, consented to be calm. But Aunt Melissa Adams, + unstrung by her earlier experience, would trust no doubtful circumstance. + She plodded back into the animal-tent, assured herself, with her own eyes, + of the snake's presence at his own hearthstone, and came back satisfied, + just as the clown entered the ring. The performance needs no bush. We had + palmleaf fans offered us, pop-corn, and pink lemonade. We sweltered under + the blazing canvas, laughed at the clown's musty fooling, which deserved + rather the reverence due old age, and wondered between whiles if there + would be a shower, and if tent-poles were ever struck. Then it was all + over, and we trailed out, in great bodily discomfort and spiritual joy, to + witness, quite unlooked for, the most vivid drama of the day. Young Dana + Marden was there, he and his wife who lived down in Tiverton Hollow. Dana + was a nephew of Josh, of hapless memory, and "folks said" that, like Josh, + he had "all the Marden setness, once git him riled." But Mary Worthen had + not been in the least afraid of that when she married him. Before their + engagement, some one had casually mentioned Dana's having inherited + "setness" for his patrimony. + </p> + <p> + "I know it," she said, "and if I had anything to do with him, I'd break + him of it, or I'd break his neck!" + </p> + <p> + Tiverton had been very considerate in never repeating that speech to Dana; + and his wife, in all their five years of married life, had not fulfilled + her threat. As we were making ready to leave the grounds, that day, and + those who had horses were "tacklin up," we became aware that Dana, a + handsome, solid, fresh-colored fellow, sat in his wagon with pretty Mary + beside him, and that they evidently had no intention of moving on. Of + course we approached, to find out what the trouble might be. + </p> + <p> + "We can send word to have Tom Bunker milk the cows," said Dana, with + distinct emphasis, "an' we can stay for the evenin' performance. Or we can + go now. Only, you've got to say which!" + </p> + <p> + "I don't want to say," returned Mary, placidly, "because I don't know + which you'd rather have. You just tell me <i>so</i> much!" + </p> + <p> + A frown contracted his brow; he looked a middle-aged man. When he spoke, + his voice grated. + </p> + <p> + "You tell which, or we'll set here all night, an' I don't speak another + word to you till you do!" + </p> + <p> + But Mary said nothing. + </p> + <p> + "My soul!" whispered Mrs. Rivers to me. "She's got herself into it now, + jest as they say Lyddy Ann Marden done, with Josh. She'll have to back + down!" + </p> + <p> + Several more of those aimless on-lookers, ever ready for the making of + crowds, surged forward. The wagon was blocking the way. We realised with + shame that Sudleigh, too, was here, to say nothing of sister towns less + irritating to our pride. It was Uncle Eli Pike who stepped into the + breach. + </p> + <p> + "Here, Dana!" he called, and, as we were glad to remember, all the aliens + in the crowd could hear, "I guess that hoss o' yourn's gittin' a mite + balky. I'll lead him a step, if you say so." And without a word of assent + from Dana, he guided the horse out of the grounds, and started him on the + road. We watched the divided couple, on their common way. Dana was + driving, it is true; but we knew, with a heavy certainty, that he was not + speaking to his wife. He was a Marden, and nothing would make him speak. + </p> + <p> + This slight but very significant episode sent us home in a soberer mind + than any of us had anticipated, after the gaudy triumphs of the day. We + could not quell our curiosity over the upshot of it all, and that night, + after the chores were done, we sat in the darkness, interspersing our + comments on the spangled butterflies of horse and hoop with an awed + question, now and then, while the minute-hand sped, "S'pose they've spoke + yit?" + </p> + <p> + Alas! the prevailing voice was still against it; and when we went to + market, and met there the people from the Hollow (who were somewhat more + bucolic than we), they passed about the open secret. Dana did not speak to + his wife. Again we knew he never would. The summer waned; the cows were + turned into the shack, and the most "forehanded" among us began to cut + boughs for banking up the house, and set afoot other preparations for + winter's cold. Still Dana had not spoken. But the effect on Mary was + inexplicable to us all. We knew she loved him deeply, and that the habits + of their relationship were very tender; we expected her to sink and fail + under the burden of this sudden exile of the heart, just as Lyddy Ann had + done, so many years ago. But Mary held her head high, and kept her color. + She even "went abroad" more than usual; ostentatiously so, we thought, for + she would come over to Tiverton to pass the afternoon, after the good, + old-fashioned style, with women whom she knew but slightly. And, most + incredible of all, though Dana would not speak to her, she spoke to him! + Once, in driving past, I heard her clear voice (it seemed now a dauntless + voice!) calling,— + </p> + <p> + "Dana, dinner's ready!" Dana dropped the board he was carrying, and went + in, a fierce yet dogged look upon his face, as if it needed hourly + schooling to mirror his hard heart. Then the agent of the Sudleigh "Star," + who was canvassing for a new domestic paper, had also his story to tell. + He went to the Mardens', and Mary, who admitted him, put down her name, + and then called blithely into the kitchen,— + </p> + <p> + "Dana, I'm all out o' change. Will you hand me a dollar 'n' a quarter?" + </p> + <p> + Dana, flushed red and overwhelmed by a pitiable embarrassment, came to the + door and gave the money; and Mary, with that proud unconsciousness which + made us wonder anew every time we saw it in her, thanked him, and + dismissed the visitor, as if nothing were wrong. The couple went as usual + to church and sociable. Certain lines deepened in Dana's face, but Mary + grew every day more light-heartedly cheerful. Yet the one-sided silence + lived, with the terrible tenacity of evil. + </p> + <p> + So the days went on until midwinter snows began to blow, and then we + learned, with a thrill of pride, that the International Dramatic Company + proposed coming to our own little hall, for a two weeks' engagement. Some + said Sudleigh Opera House was too large for it, and too expensive; but we, + the wiser heads, were grandly aware that, with unusual acumen, the drama + had at last recognized the true emporium of taste. We resolved that this + discriminating company should not repent its choice. A week before the + great first night, magnificent posters in red and blue set before us, in + very choice English, the dramatic performances, "Shakespearean and + otherwise," destined to take place among us. The leading parts were to be + assumed by Mr. and Mrs. Van Rensellaer Wilde, "two of the foremost artists + in the stellar world, supported by an adequate company." + </p> + <p> + The announcement ended with the insinuating alliteration, "Popular prices + prevail." The very first night, we were at the door, an excited crowd, + absolutely before it was open; but early as we went, the hospitable + pianist held the field before us; the hall resounded with his jocund + banging at the very moment when the pioneer among us set foot within. I + have never seen anywhere, either on benefit or farewell night, a + cordiality to be compared with that which presided over our own theatre in + Tiverton Hall. Mr. Van Rensellaer Wilde himself stood within the doorway, + to greet us as we came; a personable man, with the smooth, individual face + of his profession, a moist and beery eye, a catholic smile, tolerant + enough to include the just and the unjust, a rusty, old-fashioned stock, + and the very ancientest brown Prince Albert coat still in reputable + existence,—a strange historical epitome of brushings and spongings, + of camphor exile and patient patching. Quite evidently he was not among + the prosperous, even in his stellar world. But not for that would he + repine. This present planet was an admirable plot of ground, and here he + stood, cheerfully ready to induct us, the Puritan-born, into the + fictitious joys thereof. And popular prices prevailed; the floor of the + hall itself confirmed it. It was divided, by chalk-lines, into three + sections. Enter the first division, and a legend at your feet indicated + the ten-cent territory. Advance a little, and "twenty-five cents" met the + eye; and presently, approaching the platform, you were in the seats of the + scornful, thirty-five cents each. The latter, by common consent, were + eschewed by the very first comers, not alone for reasons of thrift, but + because we thought they ought to be left for old folks, "a leetle mite + hard o' hearin'," or the unfortunates who were "not so fur-sighted" as we. + So we seated ourselves in delight already begun, for was not Mr. Gad + Greenfield performing one of the "orchestral pieces" which the programme + had led us to expect? The piano was an antique, accustomed to serve as + victim at Sudleigh's dancing-school and sociables. I have never heard its + condition described, on its return to Sudleigh; I only know that, from + some eccentric partiality, Gad Greenfield's music was all <i>fortissimo</i>. + Sally Flint, brought thither by the much-enduring overseer, for the sake + of domestic peace, seemed to be the only one who did not regard Gad's + performance with unquestioning awe. She was heard to say aloud, in a + penetrating voice,— + </p> + <p> + "My soul an' body! what a racket!" + </p> + <p> + Whereupon she deliberately pulled some wool from the tassel of her + chinchilla cloud, and stuffed a little wad into each ear. We were sorry + for the overseer, thus put to shame by his untutored charge, and + delicately looked away, after making sure Sally had "r'ared as high" as + she proposed doing. She was the overseer's cross; no one could help him + bear it. + </p> + <p> + And now the curtain went up,—though not on the play, let me tell + you! On slighter joys, a fillip to the taste. A juggler, "all complete" in + black small-clothes and white kid gloves, stood there ready to burn up our + handkerchiefs, change our watches into rabbits, and make omelets in our + best go-to-meeting hats. I cannot remember all the wonderful things he did + (everything, I believe, judging from the roseate glow left in my mind, + everything that juggler ever achieved short of the Hindoo marvel of + cutting up maidens and splicing them together again, or planting the magic + tree); I only know we were too crafty to help him, and though he again and + again implored a volunteer from the audience to come and play the willing + victim, we clung to our settees the more, so that Gad of the piano was + obliged to fill the gap. And when the curtain came down, and went up again + on a drawing-room, with a red plush chair in it, and a lady dressed in a + long-tailed white satin gown, where were we? In Tiverton? Nay, in the + great world of fashion and of crime. I remember very little now about the + order of the plays; very little of their names and drift. I only know we + were swept triumphantly through the widest range ever imagined since the + "pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral," of old Polonius. And in all, fat, + middle-aged Wilde was the dashing hero, the deep-dyed villain; and his + wife, middle-aged as he, and far, oh, far more corpulent! played the + lovely heroine, the blooming victim, the queen of hearts. And she was + truly beautiful to us, that blowsy dame, through the beguiling witchery of + her art. The smarting tears came into our eyes when, in "Caste," she + staggered back, despairing, lost in grief, unable to arm her soldier for + the march. Melodrama was her joy, and as we watched her lumbering about + the stage in a white muslin dress, with the artificial springiness of a + youth that would never return, we could have risen as one man, to snatch + her from the toils of villany. She was a cool piece, that swiftly + descending star! She had a way of deliberately stepping outside the scenes + and letting down her thin black hair, before the tragic moment; then would + she bound back again, and tear every passion to tatters, in good + old-fashioned style. In "The Octoroon" especially she tore our hearts with + it, so that it almost began to seem as if political issues were imminent. + For between the acts, men bent forward to their neighbors, and put their + heads together, recalling abolition times; and one poor, harmless old + farmer from Sudleigh way was glared at in a fashion to which he had once + been painfully accustomed, while murmurs of "Copperhead! Yes, Copperhead + all through the war!" must have penetrated where he sat. But he was + securely locked up in his fortress of deaf old age, and met the hostile + glances benignly, quite unconscious of their meaning. In one particular, + we felt, for a time, that we had been deceived. The Shakespearean drama + had not been touched on as we had been led to expect; but at last, in the + middle of the second week, we were rejoiced by the announcement that + "Othello" would that night be appropriately set forth. The Moor of Venice! + He would never have recognized himself—his great creator would never + have guessed his identity—as presented by Mr. Van Rensellaer Wilde. + I give you my word for that! From beginning to end of the performance, + Tiverton groped about, in a haze of perplexity, rendered ever the more + dense by the fact that none of the actors knew their parts. I am inclined + to think they had enriched their announcement by this allusion to the + Shakespearean drama in a moment of wild ambition, as we gladly commit + ourselves to issues far-off and vague; and then, with a chivalrous + determination to vindicate their written word; they had embarked on a + troublous sea for which they had "neither mast nor sail, nor chart nor + rudder." So they went bobbing about in a tub, and we, with a like paucity + of equipment, essayed to follow them. + </p> + <p> + Othello himself was a veiled mystery in our eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Ain't he colored?" whispered Mrs. Wilson to me; and while I hesitated, + seeking to frame an answer both terse and true, she continued, although he + was at that moment impressing the Senate with his great apology, "Is he + free?" + </p> + <p> + I assured her on that point, and she settled down to a troubled study of + the part, only to run hopelessly aground when Desdemona, in her stiff + white satin gown, announced her intention of cleaving to the robust + blackamoor, in spite of fate and father. That seemed a praiseworthy + action, "taken by and large," but we could not altogether applaud it. + "Abolition," as we were, the deed wounded some race prejudice in us, and + Mrs. Hiram Cole voiced the general sentiment when she remarked audibly,— + </p> + <p> + "One color's as good as another, come Judgment Day, but let 'em marry + among themselves, <i>I</i> say!" + </p> + <p> + The poverty of the scenery had something to do with our dulness in + following the dramatic thread, for how should we know that our own little + stage, disguised by a slender tree-growth, was the island of Cyprus, and + that Desdemona, tripping through a doorway, in the same satin gown, had + just arrived from a long and perilous voyage? "The riches of the ship" had + "come on shore," but for all we knew, it had been in the next room, taking + a nap, all the while. In the crucial scene between Cassio and Iago, we got + the impression that one was as drunk as the other, and that Cassio acted + the better man of the two, chiefly because of his grandiloquent apostrophe + relative to the thieving of brains. We approved of that, and looked + meaningly round at old Cap'n Fuller, who was at that time taking more hard + cider than we considered good for him. But when the final catastrophe + came, we, having missed the logical sequence, were totally unprepared. Mr. + Wilde, with a blackamoor fury irresistibly funny to one who has seen a + city coal-man cursing another for not moving on, smothered his shrieking + spouse in a pillow brought over for that purpose from the Blaisdells', + where most of the actors were boarding. We were not inclined to endure + this quietly. The more phlegmatic among us moved uneasily in our seats, + and one or two men, excitable beyond the ordinary, sprang up, with an + oath. Mrs. Wilson dragged her husband down again. + </p> + <p> + "For massy sake, do set still!" she urged. "He 'ain't killed her. Don't + you see them toes a-twitchin'?" + </p> + <p> + No, Mrs. Wilde was not dead, as her weary appearance in the afterpiece + attested; but she had been cruelly abused, and the murmurs, here and + there, as we left the hall, went far to show that Othello had done well in + voluntarily paying the debt of nature, and that Emilia thought none too + ill of him. + </p> + <p> + "Ought to ha' been strong up, by good rights," growled Tiverton, "you + can't find a jury't would acquit <i>him</i>!" + </p> + <p> + Night after night, we conscientiously sat out the aforesaid afterpiece, + innocently supposed to be our due because it had formed a part of the + initial performance. However long our weary strollers might delay it, in + the empty hope of our going home content, there we waited until the + curtain went up. It was a dreary piece of business, varied by horse-play + considered "kind o' rough" by even the more boisterous among us. Sometimes + it was given, minstrel-wise, in the time-honored panoply of burnt cork; + again, poor weary souls! they lacked even the spirit to blacken + themselves, and clinging to the same dialogue, played boldly in Caucasian + fairness, with the pathetically futile disguise of a Teuton accent. And + last of all, Mr. Wilde would appear before the curtain, and "in behalf of + Mrs. Wilde, self and company" thank us movingly for our kind attention, + and announce the next night's bill. + </p> + <p> + The last half hour was my chosen time for leaning back against the wall, + and allowing thought and glance to dwell lovingly on Tiverton faces. O + worn and rugged features of the elder generation to whose kinship we are + born! What solution, even of Time, the all-potent, shall wash your meaning + from the heart? An absolute lack of self-consciousness had quite + transformed the gaze they bent upon the stage. A veil had been swept + aside, and the true soul shone forth; that soul which ever dwells apart, + either from the dignity of its estate or, being wrought of fibre more + delicate than air, because it fears recoil and hurt. There were Roxy and + her husband, he too well content with life as it is, to be greatly moved + by its counterfeit; she sparkling back some artless reply to the challenge + of feeble romance and wingless wit. There was Uncle Eli, a little dazed by + these strange doings, the hand on his knee shaking, from time to time, + under the stimulus of unshared thought. There was Miss Lucindy, with Ellen + and all the McNeils, a care-free, happy phalanx, smiling joyously at + everything set before them, with that spontaneous rapture so good to see. + One night, Nance Pete appeared, and established herself, with great + importance, in the first row of the ten-cent seats; but she fell asleep, + and snored with embarrassing volume and precision. She never came again, + and announced indifferently, to all who cared to hear, that when she + "wanted to see a passel o' monkeys, she'd go to the circus, an' done with + it." There, too, one night when Comedy burlesqued her own rapt self, was + Dana Marden; but he came alone. Mary had a cold, we heard, and "thought + she'd better stay in." Dana sat through the foolish play, unmoved. His + brow loomed heavy, like Tragedy's own mask, and it grew ever blacker while + the scene went on. Hiram Cole whispered me,— + </p> + <p> + "He'll kill himself afore he's done with it. He's gone in for the whole + hog, but he 'ain't growed to it, as Old Josh had. The Marden blood run + emptin's afore it got to him." + </p> + <p> + The last night came of all our blissful interlude, and on that night, by + some stroke of fate, the bill was "Oliver Twist." Of that performance let + naught be spoken, save in reverence. For, by divine leading it might seem, + and not their own good wit, those poor players had been briefly touched by + the one true fire. Shakespeare had beckoned them, and they had passed him + by; Comedy and Tragedy had been their innocent sport. How funny their + tragedy had been, how sad their comedy, Momus only might tell. But + to-night some gleaming wave from a greater sea had lifted them, and borne + them on. Still they played, jarringly, for that was their untutored wont. + Their speech roared, loud defiance to grammar's idle saws, their costumes + were absurd remnants of an antique past; but a certain, rude, and homely + dignity had transfigured them, and enveloped, too, this poor drama which, + after all, goes very deep, down to the springs of life and love. There was + a dirty and wicked abomination of a Fagin. Wilde himself played Sykes, and + we of Tiverton, who know little about the formless monster dwelling under + the garnished pavement of every great city, and rising, once in a century + or so, to send red riot and ruin through the streets,—even we could + read the story of his word and glance. Unconsciously to ourselves, we + guessed at Whitechapel and the East End "tough," and shuddered under the + knowledge of evil. Mrs. Wilde, her heavy face many a shade sincerer than + when she walked in dirty white satin, was Nancy; and in her death, + culminated the grand moment of Tiverton's looking the drama in the face, + and seeing it for what it is,—the living sister of life itself. + Sykes really killed her alarmingly well. Round the stage he dragged her, + bruised and speechless, with such cruel realism that we women crouched and + shivered; and when she staggered to her knees, and told her pitiful lie + for the brute she loved, the general shudder of worship and horror + thrilled us into a mighty reverence for the tie stronger than death and + hell, binding the woman to the man, and lifting Love triumphant on his + cross of pain. With Nancy's final sigh, another swept through the hall, + like breath among the trees, and, drawn by what thread I know not, I + looked about me, and all unwittingly was present at another great last + act. Dana Marden and his wife were in front of me, not three seats away. + Mary was very pale, and sat quite motionless, looking down into her lap; + but Dana bent forward, gripping the seat in front of him with white and + straining hands. His face, drawn and knotted, was a mirror of such anguish + as few of us imagine; we only learn its power when it steals upon us in + the dark, and our souls wrestle with it for awful mastery. He seemed to be + suffering an extremity of physical pain. After that, I gave little heed to + the stage. I was only conscious that the curtain had gone down, and that + Mr. Wilde was thanking us for our kind attention, and expressing a + flattering hope that another year would find him again in our midst. We + did not want the farce, that night, even as our rightful due. We got up, + and filed out in silence. I was just behind Dana and Mary; so near that I + could have touched him when, half-way, down the hall, he put out a clumsy + hand and drew her shawl closer about her shoulders. Then he set his face + straight forward again, but not before I had noticed how the lips were + twitching still, in that dumb protest against the fetters of his birth. + Again he turned to her, as suddenly as if a blow had forced his face + about. I heard his voice, abrupt, explosive, full of the harshness so near + at hand to wait on agony,— + </p> + <p> + "You got your rubbers on?" + </p> + <p> + Mary started a little, and a tremor like that of cold, went over her; but + she kept her head firmly erect. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Dana," she said, clearly, just as she had spoken to him all those + months, "I've got 'em on." + </p> + <p> + Before eleven o'clock, the next morning, the news had spread all over + joyful Tiverton. Dana had spoken at last! But Mary! Within a week, she + took to her bed, quite overmastered by a lingering fever. She "came out + all right," as we say among ourselves, though after Dana had suffered such + agonies of tenderness over her as few save mothers can know, or those who + have injured their beloved. But she has never since been quite so + dauntless, quite so full of the joy of life. As Hiram Cole again remarked, + it is a serious thing to draw too heavily on the nerve-juice. + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Meadow Grass, by Alice Brown + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEADOW GRASS *** + +***** This file should be named 9367-h.htm or 9367-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/3/6/9367/ + + +Text file produced by A. Templeton, J. Sutherland, T. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Meadow Grass + +Author: Alice Brown + + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9367] +This file was first posted on September 25, 2003] +Last updated: May 23, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEADOW GRASS *** + + + + +Produced by A. Templeton, J. Sutherland, T. Allen and the +PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + +MEADOW-GRASS + +TALES OF NEW ENGLAND LIFE + +By Alice Brown + + +1895 + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS. + + +NUMBER FIVE + +FARMER ELI'S VACATION + +AFTER ALL + +TOLD IN THE POORHOUSE + +HEMAN'S MA + +HEARTSEASE + +MIS' WADLEIGH'S GUEST + +A RIGHTEOUS BARGAIN + +JOINT OWNERS IN SPAIN + +AT SUDLEIGH FAIR + +BANKRUPT + +NANCY BOYD'S LAST SERMON + +STROLLERS IN TIVERTON + + + + +TO M.G.R. + + + + +LOVER OF WOODS AND FIELD AND SEA. + + + + +NUMBER FIVE. + + +We who are Tiverton born, though false ambition may have ridden us to +market, or the world's voice incited us to kindred clamoring, have a +way of shutting our eyes, now and then, to present changes, and seeing +things as they were once, as they are still, in a certain sleepy yet +altogether individual corner of country life. And especially do we +delight in one bit of fine mental tracery, etched carelessly, yet for +all time, so far as our own' short span is concerned, by the unerring +stylus of youth: the outline of a little red schoolhouse, distinguished +from the other similar structures within Tiverton bounds by "District +No. V.," painted on a shingle, in primitive black letters, and nailed +aloft over the door. Up to the very hollow which made its playground +and weedy garden, the road was elm-bordered and lined with fair +meadows, skirted in the background by shadowy pines, so soft they did +not even wave; they only seemed to breathe. The treasures of the road! +On either side, the way was plumed and paved with beauties so rare that +now, disheartened dwellers in city streets, we covetously con over in +memory that roaming walk to school and home again. We know it now for +what it was, a daily progress of delight. We see again the old +watering-trough, decayed into the mellow loveliness of gray lichen and +greenest moss. Here beside the ditch whence the water flowed, grew the +pale forget-me-not and sticky star-blossomed cleavers. A step farther, +beyond the nook where the spring bubbled first, were the riches of the +common roadway; and over the gray, lichen-bearded fence, the growth of +stubbly upland pasture. Everywhere, in road and pasture too, thronged +milkweed, odorous haunt of the bee and those frailest butterflies of +the year, born of one family with drifting blossoms; and straightly +tall, the solitary mullein, dust-covered but crowned with a gold softer +and more to be desired than the pride of kings. Perhaps the carriage +folk from the outer world, who sometimes penetrate Tiverton's leafy +quiet, may wonder at the queer little enclosures of sticks and pebbles +on many a bare, tree-shaded slope along the road. "Left there from some +game!" they say to one another, and drive on, satisfied. But these are +no mere discarded playthings, dear ignorant travellers! They are tokens +of the mimic earnest with which child-life is ever seeking to sober +itself, and rushing unsummoned into the workaday fields of an aimlessly +frantic world. They are houses, and the stone boundaries are walls. +This tree stump is an armchair, this board a velvet sofa. Not more +truly is "this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog." + +Across the road, at easy running distance from the schoolhouse at +noontime or recess, crawled the little river, with its inevitable +"hole," which each mother's son was warned to avoid in swimming, lest +he be seized with cramp there where the pool was bottomless. What eerie +wonders lurked within the mirror of those shallow brown waters! Long +black hairs cleaved and clung in their limpid flowing. To this day, I +know not whether they were horse-hairs, far from home, or swaying +willow roots; the boys said they were "truly" hairs of the kind +destined to become snakes in their last estate; and the girls, +listening, shivered with all Mother Eve's premonitory thrill along the +backbone. Wish-bugs, too, were here, skimming and darting. The +peculiarity of a wish-bug is that he will bestow upon you your heart's +desire, if only you hold him in the hand and wish. But the impossible +premise defeats the conclusion. You never do hold him long enough, +simply because you can't catch him in the first place. Yet the +fascinating possibility is like a taste for drink, or the glamour of +cards. Does the committee-man drive past to Sudleigh market, suggesting +the prospect of a leisurely return that afternoon, and consequent +dropping in to hear the geography class? Then do the laziest and most +optimistic boys betake them hastily from their dinner-pails to the +river, and spend their precious nooning in quest of the potent bug, +through whose spell the unwelcome visit may be averted. The time so +squandered in riotous gaming might have, fixed the afternoon's "North +Poles and Equators" triumphantly in mind, to the everlasting defiance +of all alien questioning; but no! for human delight lies ever in the +unattainable. The committee-man comes like Nemesis, _aequo pede_, the +lesson is unlearned, and the stern-fibred little teacher orders out the +rack known as staying after school. But what durance beyond hours in +the indescribably desolate schoolroom ever taught mortal boy to shun +the delusive insect created for his special undoing? So long as the +heart has woes of its own breeding, so long also will it dodge the +discipline of labor, and grasp at the flicker of an easy success. + +On either side the little bridge (over which horses pounded with an +ominous thunder and a rain of dust on the head of him who lingered +beneath the sleepers, in a fearsome joy), the meadows were pranked with +purple iris and whispering rushes, mingling each its sweetness with the +good, rank smell of mud below. Here were the treasures of the +water-course, close hidden, or blowing in the light of day. The pale, +golden-hearted arrow-head neighbored the homespun pickerel-weed, +and--oh, mysterious glory from an oozy bed!--luscious, sun-golden +cow-lilies rose sturdily triumphant, dripping with color, glowing in +sheen. The button-bush hung out her balls, and white alder painted the +air with faint perfume; willow-herb built her bowery arches, and the +flags were ever glancing like swords of roistering knights. These +flags, be it known to such as have grown up in grievous ignorance of +the lore inseparable from "deestrick school," hold the most practical +significance in the mind of boy and girl; for they bring forth (I know +we thought for our delight alone!) a delicacy known as flag-buds, +everlastingly dear to the childish palate. These were devoured by the +wholesale in their season, and little mouths grew oozy-green as those +of happy beasties in June, from much champing and chewing. Did we lose +our appetite for the delectable dinner-pail through such literal going +to pasture? I think not. Tastes were elastic, in those days; and +Nature, so bullied, durst seldom revolt. + +On one side, the nearest neighbor to the school lived at least a mile +away; but on the other, the first house of all owned treasures manifold +for the little squad who, though the day were wet or dry, fair or +frowning, trotted thither at noon. Here were trees under which lay, in +happy season, over-ripe Bartlett pears; here, too, was one +mulberry-tree, whereof the suggestion was strange and wonderful, and +the fruit less appealing to taste than to a mystical fancy. But outside +the bank wall grew the balm-of-Gileads, in a stately, benevolent +row,--trees of healing, of fragrance and romantic charm. No child ever +sought the old home to beg pears and mulberries, or to fill the +school-house pail at its dark-bosomed well, without bearing away a few +of the leaves in a covetous grasp. Sweet treasure-trove these, to be +pressed to fresh young faces, and held and patted in hot little palms, +till they grew flabby but evermore fragrant, still diffusing over the +dusty schoolroom that warm odor, whispering to those who read no corner +but their own New England, of the myrrh and balsams of the East. + +We knew everything in those days, we aimless knights-errant with +dinner-pail and slate; the dry, frosty hollow where gentians bloom when +the pride of the field is over, the woody slopes of the hepatica's +awakening, under coverlet of withered leaves, and the sunny banks where +violets love to live with their good gossip, the trembling anemone. At +noon, we roved abroad into solitudes so deep that even our unsuspecting +hearts sometimes quaked with fear of dark and lonesomeness; and then we +came trooping back at the sound of the bell, untamed, happy little +savages, ready to settle, with a long breath, to the afternoon's drowsy +routine. Arrant nonsense that! the boundary of British America and the +conjugation of the verb _to be_! Who that might loll away the hours +upon a bank in silken ease, needed aught even of computation or the +tongues? He alone had inherited the earth. + +All the little figures flitting through those tranquil early dramas are +so sharply drawn, so brightly colored still! I meet Melissa Crane +sometimes nowadays, a prosperous matron with space enough on her broad +back for the very largest plaid ever woven; but her present identity is +hazy and unreal. I see instead, with a sudden throb of memory, the +little Melissa, who, one recess, accepted a sugared doughnut from me, +and said, with a quaint imitation of old folks' manner,-- + +"I think your mother will be a real good cook, if she lives!" + +I hear of Susie Marden, who went out West, married, and grew up with +the country in great magnificence; but to me she is and ever will be +the little girl who made seventy pies, one Thanksgiving time, thereby +earning the somewhat stinted admiration of those among us who could not +cook. Many a great deed, tacitly promised in that springtime, never +came to pass; many a brilliant career ingloriously ended. There was Sam +Marshall. He could do sums to the admiration of class and teacher, and, +Cuvier-like, evolve an entire flock from Colburn's two geese and a +half. His memory was prodigious. He could name the Presidents, bound +the States and Territories, and rattle off the list of prepositions so +fast that you could almost see the spark-shower from his rushing wheels +of thought. It was an understood thing among us, when Sam was in his +teens, that he should at least enter the Senate; perhaps he would even +be President, and scatter offices, like halfpence, among his scampering +townsmen. But to-day he patiently does his haying--by hand! and "goes +sleddin'" in the winter. The Senate is as far from him as the Polar +Star, and I question whether he could even bear the crucial test of two +geese and a half. Yet I still look upon him with a thrill of awe, as +the man selected by the popular vote to represent us in fame's +Valhalla, and mysteriously defeated by some unexpected move of the +"unseen hand at a game." + +There were a couple of boys such good comrades as never to be happy +save when together. They cared only for the games made for two; all +their goods were tacitly held in common, and a tradition still lives +that David, when a new teacher asked his exact age, claimed his +comrade's birthday, and then wondered why everybody laughed. They had a +way of wandering off together to the woods, on Saturday mornings, when +the routine of chores could be hurried through, and always they bore +with them a store of eggs, apples, or sweet corn, to be cooked in happy +seclusion. All this raw material was stolen from the respective +haylofts and gardens at home, though, as the fathers owned, with an +appreciative grin, the boys might have taken it openly for the asking. +That, however, would so have alloyed the charm of gypsying that it was +not to be thought of for a moment; and they crept about on their +foraging expeditions with all the caution of a hostile tribe. Blessed +fathers and mothers to wink at the escapade, and happy boys, wise +chiefly in their longing to be free! We had a theory that Jonathan and +David would go into business together. Perhaps we thought of them in +the same country store, their chairs tilted on either side of the +air-tight stove, telling stories, in the intervals of custom, as they +apparently did in their earlier estate. For, shy as they were in +general company, they chatted together with an intense earnestness all +day long; and it was one of the stock questions in our neighborhood, +when the social light burned low,-- + +"What under the sun do you s'pose Dave and Jont find to talk about?" + +Alas! again the world had builded foolishly; for with early manhood, +they fell in love with the same round-cheeked school-teacher. Jonathan +married her, after what wrench of feeling I know not; and the other +fled to the town, whence he never returned save for the briefest visit +at Thanksgiving or Christmas time. The stay-at-home lad is a warm +farmer, and the little school-teacher a mother whose unlined face shows +the record of a placid life; but David cannot know even this, save by +hearsay, for he never sees them. He is a moneyed man, and not a year +ago, gave the town a new library. But is he happy? Or does the old +wound still show a ragged edge? For that may be, they tell us, even +"when you come to forty year." + +Then, clad in brighter vestments of memory, there was the lad who +earned unto himself much renown, even among his disapproving relatives, +by running away from home, in quest of gold and glory. True, he was +brought back at the end of three days, footsore and muddy, and with +noble appetite for the griddle-cakes his mother cooked him in lieu of +the traditional veal,--but all undaunted. He never tried it again, yet +people say he has thrown away all his chances of a thrifty living by +perpetual wandering in the woods with gun and fishing-rod, and that he +is cursed with a deplorable indifference to the state of his fences and +potato-patch. No one could call him an admirable citizen, but I am not +sure that he has chosen the worser part; for who is so jovial and +sympathetic on a winter evening, when the apples are passed, and even +the shining cat purrs content before the blaze, or in the wood +solitudes, familiar to him as his own house door? + +"Pa'tridges' nests?" he said, one spring, with a cock of his eye +calculated to show at once a humorous recognition of his genius and his +delinquencies. "Sartain! I wish I was as sure where I keep my scythe +sned!" + +He has learned all the lore of the woods, the ways of "wild critters," +and the most efficacious means both to woo and kill them. Prim +spinsters eye him acridly, as a man given over to "shif'less" ways, and +wives set him up, like a lurid guidepost, before husbands prone to +lapse from domestic thrift; but the dogs smile at him, and children, +for whom he is ever ready to make kite or dory, though all his hay +should mildew, or to string thimbleberries on a grass spear while +supper cools within, tumble merrily at his heels. Such as he should +never assume domestic relations, to be fettered with requirements of +time and place. Let them rather claim maintenance from a grateful +public, and live, like troubadours of old, ministrant to the general +joy. + +Not all the memories of that early day are quite unspotted by remorse. +Although we wore the mask of jocund faces and straightforward glance, +we little people repeatedly proclaimed ourselves the victims of Adam's +fall. Even then we needed to pray for deliverance from those passions +which have since pursued us. There was the little bound girl who lived +with a "selec'man's" wife, a woman with children of her own, but a hard +taskmistress to the stranger within her gates. Poor little Polly! her +clothes, made over from those of her mistress, were of dark, rough +flannel, often in uncouth plaids and appalling stripes. Her petticoats +were dyed of a sickly hue known as cudbar, and she wore heavy woollen +stockings of the same shade. Polly got up early, to milk and drive the +cows; she set the table, washed milkpans, and ran hither and thither on +her sturdy cudbar legs, always willing, sometimes singing, and often +with a mute, questioning look on her little freckled face, as if she +had already begun to wonder why it has pleased God to set so many +boundary lines over which the feeble may not pass. The selec'man's +son--a heavy-faced, greedy boy--was a bully, and Polly became his butt; +she did his tasks, hectored by him in private, and with a child's +strange reticence, she never told even us how unbearable he made her +life. We could see it, however; for not much remains hidden in that +communistic atmosphere of the country neighborhood. But sometimes Polly +revolted; her temper blazed up, a harmless flash in the pan, and then, +it was said, Mis' Jeremiah took her to the shed-chamber and, trounced +her soundly. I myself have seen her sitting at the little low window, +when I trotted by, in the pride of young life, to "borry some +emptin's," or the recipe for a new cake. Often she waved a timid hand +to me; and I am glad to remember a certain sunny morning, illuminated +now because I tossed her up a bright hollyhock in return. It was little +to give out of a full and happy day; but Polly had nothing. Once she +came near great good fortune,--and missed it! For a lady, who boarded a +few weeks in the neighborhood, took a fancy to Polly, and was stirred +to outspoken wrath by our tales of the severity of her life. She gave +her a pretty pink cambric dress, and Polly wore it on "last day," at +the end of the summer term. She was evidently absorbed in love of it, +and sat, smoothing its shiny surface with her little cracked hand, so +oblivious to the requirements of the occasion that she only looked up +dazed when the teacher told her to describe the Amazon River, and +unregretfully let the question pass. The lady meant to take Polly away +with, her, but she fell sick with erysipelas in the face, and was +hurried off to the city to be nursed, "a sight to behold," as everybody +said. And whether she died, or whether she got well and forgot Polly, +none of us ever heard. We only knew she did not return, bringing the +odor of violets and the rustle of starched petticoats into our placid +lives. + +But all these thoughts of Polly would be less wearing, when they come +in the night-time knocking at the heart, if I could only remember her +as glowing under the sympathy and loving-kindness of her little mates. +Alas! it was not so. We were senseless little brutes, who, never having +learned the taste of misery ourselves, had no pity for the misfortunes +of others. She was, indeed, ill-treated; but what were we, to translate +the phrase? She was an under dog, and we had no mercy on her. We +"plagued" her, God forgive us! And what the word means, in its full +horror, only a child can compass. We laughed at her cudbar petticoats, +her little "chopped hands;" and when she stumbled over the arithmetic +lesson, because she had been up at four o'clock every morning since the +first bluebirds came, we laughed at that. Life in general seems to have +treated Polly in somewhat the same way. I hear that she did not marry +well, and that her children had begun to "turn out bad," when she died, +prematurely bent and old, not many weeks ago. But when I think of what +we might have given and what we did withhold, when I realize that one +drop of water from each of us would have filled her little cup to +overflowing, there is one compensating thought, and I murmur, +conscience-smitten, "I'm glad she had the pink dress!" + +And now the little school is ever present with us, ours still for +counsel or reproof. Its long-closed sessions are open, by day and +night; and I suppose, as time goes on, and we drop into the estate of +those who sit by the fireside, oblivious to present scenes, yet acutely +awake to such as + + "Flash upon that inward eye + Which is the bliss of solitude," + +it will grow more and more lifelike and more near. Beside it, live all +the joys of memory and many a long-past pain. For we who have walked in +country ways, walk in them always, and with no divided love, even +though brick pavements have been our chosen road this many a year. We +follow the market, we buy and sell, and even run across the sea, to fit +us with new armor for the soul, to guard it from the hurts of years; +but ever do we keep the calendar of this one spring of life. Some +unheard angelus summons us to days of feast and mourning; it may be the +joy of the fresh-springing willow, or the nameless pain responsive to +the croaking of frogs, in the month when twilights are misty, and waves +of world-sorrow flood in upon the heart, we know not why. All those +trembling half-thoughts of the sleep of the year and its awakening,--we +have not escaped them by leaving the routine that brought them forth. +We know when the first violets are blowing in the woods, and we paint +for ourselves the tasselling of the alder and the red of maple-buds. We +taste still the sting of checkerberry and woodsy flavor of the fragrant +birch. When fields of corn are shimmering in the sun, we know exactly +how it would seem to run through those dusty aisles, swept by that +silken drapery, and counselled in whispers from the plumy tops so far +above our heads. The ground-sparrow's nest is not strange to us; no, +nor the partridge's hidden treasure within the wood. We can make +pudding-bags of live-forever, dolls' bonnets, "trimmed up to the +nines," out of the velvet mullein leaf, and from the ox-eyed daisies, +round, cap-begirt faces, smiling as the sun. All the homely secrets of +rural life are ours: the taste of pie, cinnamon-flavored, from the +dinner-pails at noon; the smell of "pears a-b'ilin'," at that happiest +hour when, in the early dusk, we tumble into the kitchen, to find the +table set and the stove redolent of warmth and savor. "What you got for +supper?" we cry,--question to be paralleled in the summer days by +"What'd you have for dinner?" as, famished little bears, we rush to the +dairy-wheel, to feed ravenously on the cold, delicious fragments of the +meal eaten without us. + +If time ever stood still, if we were condemned to the blank solitude of +hospital nights or becalmed, mid-ocean days, and had hours for +fruitless dreaming, I wonder what viands we should choose, in setting +forth a banquet from that ambrosial past! Foods unknown to poetry and +song: "cold b'iled dish," pan-dowdy, or rye drop-cakes dripping with +butter! For these do we taste, in moments of retrospect; and perhaps we +dwell the more on their homely savor because we dare not think what +hands prepared them for our use, or, when the board was set, what faces +smiled. We are too wise, with the cunning prudence of the years, to +penetrate over-far beyond the rosy boundary of youth, lest we find also +that bitter pool which is not Lethe, but the waters of a vain regret. + + + + +FARMER ELI'S VACATION + + +"It don't seem as if we'd really got round to it, does it, father?" +asked Mrs. Pike. + +The west was paling, and the August insects stirred the air with their +crooning chirp. Eli and his wife sat together on the washing-bench +outside the back door, waiting for the milk to cool before it should be +strained. She was a large, comfortable woman, with an unlined face, and +smooth, fine auburn hair; he was spare and somewhat bent, with curly +iron-gray locks, growing thin, and crow's-feet about his deep-set gray +eyes. He had been smoking the pipe of twilight contentment, but now he +took it out and laid it on the bench beside him, uncrossing his legs +and straightening himself, with the air of a man to whom it falls, +after long pondering, to take some decisive step. + +"No; it don't seem as if 'twas goin' to happen," he owned. "It looked +pretty dark to me, all last week. It's a good deal of an undertakin', +come to think it all over. I dunno's I care about goin'." + +"Why, father! After you've thought about it so many years, an' Sereno's +got the tents strapped up, an' all! You must be crazy!" + +"Well," said the farmer, gently, as he rose and went to carry the +milk-pails into the pantry, calling coaxingly, as he did so, "Kitty! +kitty! You had your milk? Don't you joggle, now!" For one eager tabby +rose on her hind legs, in purring haste, and hit her nose against the +foaming saucer. + +Mrs. Pike came ponderously to her feet, and followed, with the heavy, +swaying motion of one grown fleshy and rheumatic. She was not in the +least concerned about Eli's change of mood. He was a gentle soul, and +she had always been able to guide him in paths of her own choosing. +Moreover, the present undertaking was one involving his own good +fortune, and she meant to tolerate no foolish scruples which might +interfere with its result. For Eli, though he had lived all his life +within easy driving distance of the ocean, had never seen it, and ever +since his boyhood he had cherished one darling plan,--some day he would +go to the shore, and camp out there for a week. This, in his starved +imagination, was like a dream of the Acropolis to an artist stricken +blind, or as mountain outlines to the dweller in a lonely plain. But +the years had flitted past, and the dream never seemed nearer +completion. There were always planting, haying, and harvesting to be +considered; and though he was fairly prosperous, excursions were +foreign to his simple habit of life. But at last, his wife had stepped +into the van, and organized an expedition, with all the valor of a +Francis Drake. + +"Now, don't you say one word, father," she had said. "We're goin' down +to the beach, Sereno, an' Hattie, an' you an' me, an' we're goin' to +camp out. It'll do us all good." + +For days before the date of the excursion, Eli had been solemn and +tremulous, as with joy; but now, on the eve of the great event, he +shrank back from it, with an undefined notion that it was like death, +and that he was not prepared. Next morning, however, when they all rose +and took their early breakfast, preparatory to starting at five, he +showed no sign of indecision, and even went about his outdoor tasks +with an alacrity calculated, as his wife approvingly remarked, to +"for'ard the v'y'ge." He had at last begun to see his way clear, and he +looked well satisfied when his daughter Hattie and Sereno, her husband, +drove into the yard, in a wagon cheerfully suggestive of a wandering +life. The tents and a small hair-trunk were stored in the back, and the +horse's pail swung below. + +"Well, father," called Hattie, her rosy face like a flower under the +large shade-hat she had trimmed for the occasion, "guess we're goin' to +have a good day!" + +He nodded from the window, where he was patiently holding his head high +and undergoing strangulation, while his wife, breathing huskily with +haste and importance, put on his stock. + +"You come in, Hattie, an' help pack the doughnuts into that lard-pail +on the table," she called. "I guess you'll have to take two pails. They +ain't very big." + +At length, the two teams were ready, and Eli mounted to his place, +where he looked very slender beside his towering mate. The hired man +stood leaning on the pump, chewing a bit of straw, and the cats rubbed +against his legs, with tails like banners; they were all impressed by a +sense of the unusual. + +"Well, good-by, Luke," Mrs. Pike called, over her shoulder; and Eli +gave the man a solemn nod, gathered up the reins, and drove out of the +yard. Just outside the gate, he pulled up. + +"Whoa!" he called, and Luke lounged forward. "Don't you forgit them +cats! Git up, Doll!" And this time, they were gone. + +For the first ten miles of the way, familiar in being the road to +market, Eli was placidly cheerful. The sense that he was going to do +some strange deed, to step into an unknown country, dropped away from +him, and he chatted, in his intermittent, serious fashion, of the crops +and the lay of the land. + +"Pretty bad job up along here, ain't it, father?" called Sereno, as +they passed a sterile pasture where two plodding men and a yoke of oxen +were redeeming the soil from its rocky fetters. + +"There's a good deal o' pastur', in some places, that ain't fit for +nothin' but to hold the world together," returned Eli; and then he was +silent, his eyes fixed on Doll's eloquent ears, his mouth working a +little. For this progress through a less desirable stratum of life +caused him to cast a backward glance over his own smooth, middle-aged +road. + +"We've prospered, 'ain't we, Maria?" he said, at last; and his wife, +unconsciously following his thoughts, in the manner of those who have +lived long together, stroked her black silk _visite_, and answered, +with a well-satisfied nod: + +"I guess we 'ain't got no cause to complain." + +The roadside was parched under an August sun; tansy was dust-covered, +and ferns had grown ragged and gray. The jogging horses left behind +their lazy feet a suffocating cloud. + +"My land!" cried Mrs. Pike, "if that ain't goldenrod! I do b'lieve it +comes earlier every year, or else the seasons are changin'. See them +elderberries! Ain't they purple! You jest remember that bush, an' when +we go back, we'll fill some pails. I dunno when I've made elderberry +wine." + +Like her husband, she was vaguely excited; she began to feel as if life +would be all holidays. At noon, they stopped under the shadow of an +elm-tree which, from its foothold in a field, completely arched the +road; and there they ate a lunch of pie and doughnuts, while the +horses, freed from their headstalls, placidly munched a generous feed +of oats, near by. Hattie and her mother accepted this picnicking with +an air of apologetic amusement; and when one or two passers-by looked +at them, they smiled a little at vacancy, with the air of wishing it +understood that they were by no means accustomed to such +irregularities. + +"I guess they think we're gypsies," said Hattie, as one carriage rolled +past. + +"Well, they needn't trouble themselves," returned her mother, rising +with difficulty to brush the crumbs from her capacious lap. "I guess +I've got as good an extension-table to home as any on 'em." + +But Eli ate sparingly, and with a preoccupied and solemn look. + +"Land, father!" exclaimed his wife, "you 'ain't eat no more'n a bird! + +"I guess I'll go over to that well," said he, "an' git a drink o' +water. I drink more'n I eat, if I ain't workin'." But when he came +back, carefully bearing a tin pail brimming with cool, clear water, his +face expressed strong disapprobation, and he smacked his lips +scornfully. + +"Terrible flat water!" he announced. "Tastes as if it come out o' the +cistern." But the others could find no fault with it, and Sereno +drained the pail. + +"Pretty good, I call it," he said; and Mrs. Pike rejoined,-- + +"You always was pretty particular about water, father." + +But Eli still shook his head, and ejaculated, "Brackish, brackish!" as +he began to put the bit in Doll's patient mouth. He was thinking, with +a passion of loyalty, of the clear, ice-cold water at home, which had +never been shut out, by a pump, from the purifying airs of heaven, but +lay where the splashing bucket and chain broke, every day, the image of +moss and fern. His throat grew parched and dry with longing. + +When they were within three miles of the sea, it seemed to them that +they could taste the saltness of the incoming breeze; the road was +ankle-deep in dust; the garden flowers were glaring in their +brightness. It was a new world. And when at last they emerged from the +marsh-bordered road upon a ridge of sand, and turned a sudden corner, +Mrs. Pike faced her husband in triumph. + +"There, father!" she cried. "There 'tis!" + +But Eli's eyes were fixed on the dashboard in front of him. He looked +pale. + +"Why, father," said she, impatiently, "ain't you goin' to look? It's +the sea!" + +"Yes, yes," said Eli, quietly; "byme-by. I'm goin' to put the horses up +fust." + +"Well, I never!" said Mrs. Pike; and as they drew up on the sandy tract +where Sereno had previously arranged a place for their tents, she +added, almost fretfully, turning to Hattie, "I dunno what's come over +your father. There's the water, an' he won't even cast his eyes at it." + +But Hattie understood her father, by some intuition of love, though not +of likeness. + +"Don't you bother him, ma," she said. "He'll make up his mind to it +pretty soon. Here, le's lift out these little things, while they're +unharnessin', and then they can get at the tents." + +Mrs. Pike's mind was diverted by the exigencies of labor, and she said +no more; but after the horses had been put up at a neighboring house, +and Sereno, red-faced with exertion, had superintended the +tent-raising, Hattie slipped her arm through her father's, and led him +away. + +"Come, pa," she said, in a whisper; "le's you and me climb over on them +rocks." + +Eli went; and when they had picked their way over sand and pools to a +headland where the water thundered below, and salt spray dashed up in +mist to their feet, he turned and looked at the sea. He faced it as a +soul might face Almighty Greatness, only to be stricken blind +thereafter; for his eyes filled painfully with slow, hot tears. Hattie +did not look at him, but after a while she shouted in his ear, above +the outcry of the surf,-- + +"Here, pa, take my handkerchief. I don't know how 'tis about you, but +this spray gets in my eyes." + +Eli took it obediently, but he did not speak; he only looked at the +sea. The two sat there, chilled and quite content, until six o'clock, +when Mrs. Pike came calling to them from the beach, with dramatic +shouts, emphasized by the waving of her ample apron,-- + +"Supper's ready! Sereno's built a bum-fire, an' I've made some tea!" + +Then they slowly made their way back to the tents, and sat down to the +evening meal. Sereno seemed content, and Mrs. Pike was bustling and +triumphant; the familiar act of preparing food had given her the +feeling of home. + +"Well, father, what think?" she asked, smiling exuberantly, as she +passed him his mug of tea. "Does it come up to what you expected?" + +Eli turned upon her his mild, dazed eyes. + +"I guess it does," he said, gently. + +That night, they sat upon the shore while the moon rose and laid in the +water her majestic pathway of light. Eli was the last to leave the +rocks, and he lay down on his hard couch in the tent, without speaking. + +"I wouldn't say much to father," whispered Hattie to her mother, as +they parted for the night. "He feels it more 'n we do." + +"Well, I s'pose he is some tired," said Mrs. Pike, acquiescing, after a +brief look of surprise. "It's a good deal of a jaunt, but I dunno but I +feel paid a'ready. Should you take out your hair-pins, Hattie?" + +She slept soundly and vocally, but her husband did not close his eyes. +He looked, though he could see nothing, through the opening in the +tent, in the direction where lay the sea, solemnly clamorous, eternally +responsive to some infinite whisper from without his world. The tension +of the hour was almost more than he could bear; he longed for morning, +in sharp suspense, with a faint hope that the light might bring relief. +Just as the stars faded, and one luminous line pencilled the east, he +rose, smoothed his hair, and stepped softly out upon the beach. There +he saw two shadowy figures, Sereno and Hattie. She hurried forward to +meet him. + +"You goin' to see the sunrise, too, father?" +she asked. "I made Sereno come. He's awful mad at bein' waked up." + +Eli grasped her arm. + +"Hattie," he said, in a whisper, "don't you tell. I jest come out to +see how 'twas here, before I go. I'm goin' home,--I'm goin' _now_." + +"Why, father!" said Hattie; but she peered more closely into his face, +and her tone changed. "All right," she added, cheerfully. "Sereno'll go +and harness up." + +"No; I'm goin' to walk." + +"But, father--" + +"I don't mean to breakup your stayin' here, nor your mother's. You tell +her how 'twas. I'm goin' to walk." + +Hattie turned and whispered to her husband for a moment. Then she took +her father's hand. + +"I'll slip into the tent and put you up somethin' for your breakfast +and luncheon," she said. "Sereno's gone to harness; for, pa, you must +take one horse, and you can send Luke back with it Friday, so's we can +get the things home. What do we want of two horses down here, at two +and ninepence a day? I guess I know!" + +So Eli yielded; but before his wife appeared, he had turned his back on +the sea, where the rose of dawn was fast unfolding. As he jogged +homeward, the dusty roadsides bloomed with flowers of paradise, and the +insects' dry chirp thrilled like the song of angels. He drove into the +yard just at the turning of the day, when the fragrant smoke of many a +crackling fire curls cheerily upward, in promise of the evening meal. + +"What's busted?" asked Luke, swinging himself down from his load of +fodder-corn, and beginning to unharness Doll. + +"Oh, nothin'," said Eli, leaping, from the wagon as if twenty years had +been taken from his bones. "I guess I'm too old for such jaunts. I hope +you didn't forgit them cats." + + + + +AFTER ALL. + + +"The land o' gracious!" said Mrs. Lothrop Wilson, laying down her +"drawing-in hook" on the rug stretched between two chairs in the middle +of the kitchen, and getting up to look from the window. "If there ain't +Lucindy comin' out o' the Pitmans' without a thing on her head, an' all +them little curls a-flyin'! An' the old Judge ain't cold in his grave!" + +"I guess the Judge won't be troubled with cold, any to speak of, arter +this," said her husband from the window, where he sat eating his +forenoon lunch of apple-pie and cheese. He was a cooper, and perhaps +the pleasantest moment in his day was that when he slipped out of his +shop, leaving a bit of paper tacked on the door to say he was "on +errands," and walked soberly home for his bite and sup. "If he ain't +good an' warm about now, then the Scriptur's ain't no more to be +depended on than a last year's almanac." + +"Late Wilson, I'm ashamed of you," retorted his wife, looking at him +with such reproof that, albeit she had no flesh to spare, she made +herself a double chin. "An' he your own uncle, too! Well, he _was_ +nigh, I'll say that for him; an' if he'd had his way, the sun'd ha' riz +an' set when he said the word. But Lucindy's his only darter, an' if +she don't so much as pretend to be a mourner, I guess there ain't +nobody that will. There! don't you say no more! She's comin' in here!" + +A light step sounded on the side piazza, and Lucindy came in, with a +little delicate, swaying motion peculiar to her walk. She was a very +slender woman, far past middle life, with a thin, smiling face, light +blue eyes, shining with an eager brightness, and fine hair, which +escaped from its tight twist in little spiral curls about the face. + +"How do, Jane?" she said, in an even voice, stirred by a pleasant, +reedy thrill. "How do, Lote?" + +Lothrop pushed forward a chair, looking at her with an air of great +kindliness. There was some slight resemblance between them, but the +masculine type seemed entirely lacking in that bright alertness so +apparent in her. Mrs. Wilson nodded, and went back to her drawing-in. +She was making a very red rose with a pink middle. + +"I dunno's I can say I'm surprised to see you, Lucindy," she began, +with the duteous aspect of one forced to speak her disapproval, "for I +ketched you comin' out o' the Pitmans' yard." + +"Yes," said Lucindy, smiling, and plaiting her skirt between her +nervous fingers. "Yes, I went in to see if they'd let me take Old +Buckskin a spell to-morrow." + +"What under the sun--" began Mrs. Wilson; but her husband looked at +her, and she stopped. He had become so used to constituting himself +Lucindy's champion in the old Judge's day, now just ended, that he kept +an unremitting watch on any one who might threaten her peace. But +Lucindy evidently guessed at the unspoken question. + +"I should have come here, if I'd expected to drive," she said. "But I +thought maybe your horse wa'n't much used to women, and I kind o' +dreaded to be the first one to try him with a saddle." + +Mrs. Wilson put down her hook again, and leaned back in her chair. She +looked from her husband to Lucindy, without speaking. But Lucindy went +on, with the innocent simplicity of a happy child. + +"You know I was always possessed to ride horseback," she said, +addressing herself to Lothrop, "and father never would let me. And now +he ain't here, I mean to try it, and see if 'tain't full as nice as I +thought." + +"Lucindy!" burst forth Mrs. Wilson, explosively, "ain't you goin' to +pay no respect to your father's memory?" + +Lucindy turned to her, smiling still, but with a hint of quizzical +shrewdness about her mouth. + +"I guess I ain't called on to put myself out," she said, simply, yet +not irreverently. "Father had his way in pretty much everything while +he was alive. I always made up my mind if I should outlive him, I'd +have all the things I wanted then, when young folks want the most. And +you know then I couldn't get 'em." + +"Well!" said Mrs. Wilson. Her tone spoke volumes of conflicting +commentary. + +"You got a saddle?" asked Lucindy, turning to her cousin. "I thought I +remembered you had one laid away, up attic. I suppose you'd just as +soon I'd take it?" + +He was neither shocked nor amused. He had been looking at her very +sadly, as one who read in every word the entire tragedy of a repressed +and lonely life. + +"Yes, we have, Lucindy," he said, gently, quieting his wife by a motion +of the hand, "but 'tain't what you think. It's a man's saddle. You'd +have to set straddle. + +"Oh!" said Lucindy, a faint shade of disappointment clouding her face. +"Well, no matter! I guess they've got one down to the Mardens'. Jane, +should you just as soon come round this afternoon, and look over some +bunnit trimmin's with me? I took two kinds of flowers home from Miss +West's, and I can't for my life tell which to have." + +"Ain't you goin' to wear black?" Mrs. Wilson spoke now in double +italics. + +"Oh, no! I don't feel called on to do that. I always liked bright +colors, and I don't know's 'twould be real honest in me to put on +mournin' when I didn't feel it." + +"'Honor thy father'--" began Jane, in spite of her husband's warning +hand; but Lucindy interrupted her, with some perplexity. + +"I have, Jane, I have! I honored father all my life, just as much as +ever I could. I done everything he ever told me, little and big! No, +though, there's one thing I never fell in with. I did cheat him once. I +don't know but I'm sorry for that, now it's all past and gone!" + +Her cousin had been drumming absently on the window-sill, but he looked +up with awakened interest. Mrs. Wilson, too, felt a wholesale +curiosity, and she, at least, saw no reason for curbing it. + +"What was it, Lucindy?" she asked. "The old hunks!" she repeated to +herself, like an anathema. + +Lucindy began her confession, with eyes down-dropped and a faltering +voice. + +"Father wanted I should have my hair done up tight and firm. So I +pretended I done the best I could with it. I told him these curls round +my face and down in my neck was too short, and I couldn't pin 'em up. +But they wa'n't curls, and they wouldn't ha' been short if I hadn't cut +'em. For every night, and sometimes twice a day, I curled 'em on a +pipe-stem." + +"Ain't them curls nat'ral, Lucindy?" cried Mrs. Wilson. "Have you been +fixin' 'em to blow round your face that way, all these years?" + +"I begun when I was a little girl," said Lucindy, guiltily. "It did +seem kind o' wrong, but I took real pleasure in it!" + +Lothrop could bear no more. He wanted to wipe his eyes, but he chose +instead to walk straight out of the room and down to his shop. His wife +could only express a part of her amazement by demanding, in a futile +sort of way,-- + +"Where'd you get the pipe?" + +"I stole the first one from a hired man we had," said Lucindy, her +cheeks growing pink. "Sometimes I had to use slate-pencils." + +There was no one else to administer judgment, and Mrs. Wilson felt the +necessity. + +"Well," she began, "an' you can set there, tellin' that an' smilin'--" + +"My smilin' don't mean any more'n some other folks' cryin', I guess," +said Lucindy, smiling still more broadly. "I begun that more'n thirty +years ago. I looked into the glass one day, and I see the corners of my +mouth were goin' down. Sharper 'n, vinegar, I was! So I says to myself, +'I can smile, whether or no. Nobody can't help that!' And I did, and +now I guess I don't know when I do it." + +"Well!" + +Lucindy rose suddenly and brushed her lap, as if she dusted away +imaginary cares. + +"There!" she exclaimed, "I've said more this mornin' than I have for +forty year! Don't you lead me on to talk about what's past and gone! +The only thing is, I mean to have a good time now, what there is left +of it. Some things you can't get back, and some you can. Well, you step +round this afternoon, won't you?" + +"I dunno's I can. John's goin' to bring Claribel up, to spend the +arternoon an' stay to supper." + +"Why, dear heart! that needn't make no difference. I should admire to +have her, too. I'll show her some shells and coral I found this +mornin', up attic." + +Lucindy had almost reached the street when she turned, as with a sudden +resolution, and retraced her steps. + +"Jane," she called, looking in at the kitchen window. "It's a real +bright day, pretty as any 't ever I see. Don't you worry for fear o' my +disturbin' them that's gone, if I do try to ketch at somethin' +pleasant. If they're wiser now, I guess they'll be glad I had sense +enough left to do it!" + +That afternoon, Mrs. Wilson, in her best gingham and checked sunbonnet, +took her way along the village street to the old Judge Wilson house. It +was a colonial mansion, sitting austerely back in a square yard. In +spite of its prosperity, everything about it wore a dreary air, as if +it were tired of being too well kept; for houses are like people, and +carry their own indefinable atmosphere with them. Mrs. Wilson herself +lived on a narrower and more secluded street, though it was said that +her husband, if he had not defied the old Judge in some crucial matter, +might have studied law with him, and possibly shared his speculations +in wool. Then he, too, might have risen to be one of the first men in +the county, instead of working, in his moderate fashion, for little +more than day's wages. Claribel, a pale, dark-eyed child, also dressed +in her best gingham, walked seriously by her grandmother's side. +Lucindy was waiting for them at the door. + +"I declare!" she called, delightedly. "I was 'most afraid you'd forgot +to come! Well, Claribel, if you 'ain't grown! They'll have to put a +brick on your head, or you'll be taller'n grandma." + +Claribel submitted to be kissed, and they entered the large, cool +sitting-room, where they took off their things. + +"You make yourself at home, Jane," said Lucindy, fluttering about, in +pleasant excitement. "I ain't goin' to pay you a mite of attention till +I see Claribel fixed. Now, Claribel, remember! you can go anywheres +you're a mind to. And you can touch anything there is. You won't find a +thing a little girl can hurt. Here, you come here where I be, and look +across the entry. See that big lamp on the table? Well, if you unhook +them danglin' things and peek through 'em, you'll find the brightest +colors! My, how pretty they be! I've been lookin' through 'em this +mornin'. I used to creep in and do it when I was little," she +continued, in an aside to Mrs. Wilson. "Once I lost one." A strange +look settled on her face; she was recalling a bitter experience. +"There!" she said, releasing Claribel with a little hug, "now run +along! If you look on the lower shelf of the what-not, you'll see some +shells and coral I put there for just such a little girl." + +Claribel walked soberly away to her playing. + +"Don't you hurt nothin'!" called Mrs. Wilson; and Claribel responded +properly,-- + +"No, 'm." + +"There!" said Lucindy, watching the precise little back across the +hall, "Now le's talk a mite about vanity. You reach me that green box +behind your chair. Here's the best flowers Miss West had for what I +wanted. Here's my bunnit, too. You see what you think." + +She set the untrimmed bonnet on her curls, and laid first a bunch of +bright chrysanthemums against it, and then some strange lavender roses. +The roses turned her complexion to an ivory whiteness, and her anxious, +intent expression combined strangely with that undesirable effect. + +"My soul, Lucindy!" cried Mrs. Wilson, startled into a more robust +frankness than usual, "you do look like the Old Nick!" + +A shade came over Miss Lucindy's honest face. It seemed, for a moment, +as if she were going to cry. + +"Don't you like 'em, Jane?" she asked, appealingly. "Won't neither of +'em do?" + +Mrs. Wilson was not incapable of compunction, but she felt also the +demands of the family honor. + +"Well, Lucindy," she began, soothingly, "now 'tain't any use, is it, +for us to say we ain't gettin' on in years? We be! You 're my age, +an'--Why, look at Claribel in there! What should you say, if you see me +settin' out to meetin' with red flowers on my bunnit? I should be +nothin' but a laughin'-stock!" + +Lucindy laid the flowers back in their box, with as much tenderness as +if they held the living fragrance of a dream. + +"Well!" she said, wistfully. Then she tried to smile. + +"Here!" interposed Mrs. Wilson, not over-pleased with the part she felt +called upon to play, "you give me your bunnit. Don't I see your old +sheaf o'wheat in the box? Let me pin it on for you. There, now, don't +that look more suitable?" + +By the time she had laid it on, in conventional flatness, and held it +up for inspection, every trace of rebellion had apparently been +banished from Lucindy's mind. + +"Here," said the victim of social rigor, "you hand me the box, and I'll +set it away." + +They had a cosey, old-fashioned chat, touching upon nothing in the +least revolutionary, and Mrs. Wilson was glad to think Lucindy had +forgotten all about the side-saddle. This last incident of the bonnet, +she reflected, showed how much real influence she had over Lucindy. She +must take care to exert it kindly but seriously now that the old Judge +was gone. + +"You goin' to keep your same help?" she asked, continuing the +conversation. + +"Oh, yes! I wouldn't part with Ann Toby for a good deal. She's goin' to +have her younger sister come to live with us now. We shall be a passel +o' women, sha'n't we?" + +"I guess it's well for you Ann Toby's what she is, or she'd cheat you +out o' your eye-teeth!" + +"Well," answered Lucindy, easily, "I ain't goin' to worry about my +eye-teeth. If I be cheated out of 'em, I guess I can get a new set." + +At five o'clock, they had some cookies, ostensibly for Claribel, since +Mrs. Wilson could not stay to tea; and then, when the little maid had +taken hers out to the front steps, Lucindy broached a daring plan, that +moment conceived. + +"Say, Jane," she whispered, with great pretence of secrecy, "what do +you think just come into my head? Do you s'pose Mattie would be put +out, if I should give Claribel a hat?" + +"Mercy sakes, no! all in the family so! But what set you out on that? +She's got a good last year's one now, an' the ribbin's all pressed out +an' turned, complete." + +"I'll tell you," Said Lucindy, leaning nearer, and speaking as if she +feared the very corners might hear. "You know I never was allowed to +wear bright colors. And to this day, I see the hats the other girls +had, blue on 'em, and pink. And if I could stand by and let a little +girl pick out a hat for herself, without a word said to stop her, +'twould be real agreeable to me." Lucindy was shrewd enough to express +herself somewhat moderately. She knew by experience how plainly Jane +considered it a duty to discourage any overmastering emotion. But Jane +Wilson was, at the same instant, feeling very keenly that Lucindy, +faded and old as she was, needed to be indulged in all her riotous +fancies. She repressed the temptation, however, at its birth. + +"Why, I dunno's there's anything in the way of it," she said, soberly. + +"Then, if you must go, I'll walk right along now. Claribel and I'll go +down to Miss West's, and see what she's got. Nothin''s to be gained by +waitin'!" + +When they walked out through the hall together, Lucindy cast a quick +and eager glance into the parlor. She almost hoped Claribel had +unhooked the glass prisms from the lamp, and left them scattered on the +floor, or that she had broken the precious shells, more than half a +century old. She wanted to put her arms round her, and say fondly, +"Never mind!" But the room was in perfect order, and little Claribel +waited for them, conscious of a propriety unstained by guilt. + +"Lucindy," said Mrs. Wilson, who also had used her eyes, "where's your +father's canes? They al'ays stood right here in this corner." + +Lucindy flushed. + +"Jane," she whispered, "don't you tell, but I--I buried 'em! I felt +somehow as if I couldn't--do the things I wanted to, if they set there +just the same." + +Jane could only look at her in silence. + +"Well," she said, at length, "it takes all kinds o' people to make a +world!" + +That, at least, was non-committal. + +She left the shoppers at her own gate, and they walked on together. +Lucindy was the more excited of the two. + +"Now, Claribel," she was saying, "you remember you can choose any hat +you see, and have it trimmed just the way you like. What color do you +set by most?" + +"I don't know," said Claribel. "Blue, I guess." + +"Well, there's a hat there all trimmed with it. I see it this mornin'. +Real bright, pretty blue! I believe there was some little noddin' +yellow flowers on it, too. But mind you don't take it unless you like +it." + +Miss West's shop occupied the front room of her house, a small yellow +one on a side street. The upper part of the door was of glass, and it +rang a bell as it opened. Lucindy had had very few occasions for going +there, and she entered with some importance. The bell clanged; and Miss +West, a portly woman, came in from the back room, whisking off her +apron in haste. + +"Oh, that you, Miss Lucindy?" she called. "I've just been fryin' some +riz doughnuts. Well, how'd the flowers suit?" + +"I haven't quite made up my mind," said Lucindy, trying to speak with +the dignity befitting her quest. "I just come in with little Claribel +here. She's goin' to have a new hat, and her grandma said she might +come down with me to pick it out. You've got some all trimmed, I +believe?" + +Miss West opened a drawer in an old-fashioned bureau. + +"Yes," she said, "I've got two my niece trimmed for me before she went +to make her visit to Sudleigh. One's blue. I guess you've seen that. +Then there's a nice white one. The 'Weekly' says white's all the go, +this year." + +She took out two little hats, and balanced them on either hand. The +blue one was strongly accented. The ribbon was very broad and very +bright, and its nodding cowslips gleamed in cheerful yellow. + +"Ain't that a beauty?" whispered Lucindy close to the little girl's +ear. "But there! Don't you have it unless you'd rather. There's lots of +other colors, you know; pink, and all sorts.". + +Claribel put out one little brown hand, and timidly touched the other +hat. + +"This one," she said. + +It was very plain, and very pretty; yet there were no flowers, and the +modest white ribbon lay smoothly about the crown. Miss Lucindy gave a +little cry, as if some one had hurt her. + +"O!" she exclaimed, "O Claribel! you sure?" Claribel was sure. + +"She's got real good taste," put in Miss West. "Shall I wrop it up?" + +"Yes," answered Lucindy, drearily. "We'll take it. But I suppose if she +should change, her mind before she wore it--" she added, with some +slight accession of hope. + +"Oh, yes, bring it right back. I'll give her another choice." + +But Claribel was not likely to change her mind. On the way home, she +walked sedately, and carried her hat with the utmost care. At her +grandmother's gate, she looked up shyly, and spoke of her own accord,-- + +"Thank you, ever so much!" + +Then she fled up the path, her bundle waving before her. That, at +least, looked like spontaneous joy, and the sight of it soothed Lucindy +into a temporary resignation; yet she was very much disappointed. + +The next afternoon, Tiverton saw a strange and wondrous sight. The +Crane boy led Old Buckskin, under an ancient saddle, into Miss +Lucindy's yard, and waited there before her door. The Crane boy had +told all his mates, and they had told their fathers and mothers, so +that a wild excitement flew through the village like stubble fire, +stirring the inhabitants to futile action. "It's like the 'clipse," +said one of the squad of children collected at the gate, "only they +ain't no smoked glass." Some of the grown people "made an errand" for +the sake of being in the street, but those who lived near-by simply +mounted guard at their doors and windows. The horse had not waited long +when Miss Lucindy appeared before the gaze of an eager world. Her face +had wakened into a keen excitement. + +"Here!" she called to the Crane boy's brother, who was lingering in the +background grinding his toes on the gravel and then lifting them in +sudden agony, "you take this kitchen chair and set it down side of him, +so't I can climb up." + +The chair was placed, and Miss Lucindy essayed to climb, but vainly. + +"Ann!" she called, "you bring me that little cricket." + +Ann Toby appeared unwillingly, the little cricket in her hand. She was +a tall, red-haired woman, who bore the reputation of being willing to +be "tore into inch pieces" for Miss Lucindy. Her freckled face burned +red with shame and anger. + +"For Heaven's sake, you come back into the house!" she whispered, with +tragic meaning. "You jest give it up, an' I'll scatter them boys. Sassy +little peeps! what are they starin' round here for, I'd like to know!" + +But Lucindy had mounted the cricket with much agility, and seated +herself on the horse's back. Once she slipped off; but the Crane boy +had the address to mutter, "Put your leg over the horn!" and, owing to +that timely advice, she remained. But he was to experience the +gratitude of an unfeeling world; for Ann Toby, in the irritation of one +tried beyond endurance, fell upon him and cuffed him soundly. And Mrs. +Crane, passing the gate at that moment, did not blame her. + +"My! it seems a proper high place to set," remarked Lucindy, adjusting +herself. "Well, I guess I sha'n't come to no harm. I'll ride round to +your place, boys, when I get through, and leave the horse there." She +trotted out of the yard amid the silence of the crowd. + +The spectacle was too awesome to be funny, even to the boys; it seemed +to Tiverton strangely like the work of madness. Only one little boy +recovered himself sufficiently to ran after her and hold up a switch he +had been peeling. + +"Here!" he piped up, daringly, "you want a whip." + +Lucindy smiled upon him benignly. + +"I never did believe in abusin' dumb creatur's," she said, "but I'm +much obliged." She took the switch and rode on. + +Now Mrs. Wilson had heard the rumor too late to admit of any +interference on her part, and she was staying indoors, suffering an +agony of shame, determined not to countenance the scandalous sight by +her presence. But as she sat "hooking-in," the window was darkened, and +involuntarily she lifted her eyes. There was the huge bulk of a horse, +and there was Lucindy. The horsewoman's cheeks were bright red with +exercise and joy. She wore a black dress and black mitts. Her little +curls were flying; and oh, most unbearable of all! they were surmounted +by a bonnet bearing no modest sheaf of wheat, but blossoming brazenly +out into lavender roses. The spectacle was too much for Mrs. Wilson. +She dropped her hook, and flew to the door. + +"Well, I've known a good deal, fust an' last, but I never see the beat +o' this! Lucindy, where'd you git that long dress?" + +"It's my cashmere," answered Lucindy, joyously. "I set up last night to +lengthen it down." + +"Well, I should think you did! Lothrop!" + +Her husband had been taking a nap in the sitting-room, and he came out, +rubbing his eyes. Mrs. Wilson could not speak for curiosity. She +watched him with angry intentness. She wondered if he would take +Lucindy's part now! But Lothrop only moved forward and felt at the +girth. + +"You know you want to pull him up if he stumbles," he said; "but I +guess he won't. He was a stiddy horse, fifteen year ago." + +"Lothrop," began his wife, "do you want to be made a laughin'-stock in +this town--" + +"I guess if I've lived in a place over sixty year an' hil' my own, I +can yet," said Lothrop, quietly. "You don't want to ride too long, +Lucindy. You'll be lame to-morrer." + +"I didn't suppose 'twould jounce so," said Lucindy; "but it's proper +nice. I don't know what 'twould be on a real high horse. Well, +good-by!" She turned the horse about, and involuntarily struck him with +her little switch. Old Buckskin broke into a really creditable trot, +and they disappeared down the village street. Lothrop sensibly took his +way down to the shop while his wife was recovering her powers of +speech; and for that, Jane herself mentally commended him. + +Lucindy kept on out of the village and along the country road. The +orioles were singing in the elms, and the leaves still wore the gloss +of last night's shower. The earth smiled like a new creation, very +green and sweet, and the horse's hoofs made music in Lucindy's mind. It +seemed to her that she had lost sight both of youth and crabbed age; +the pendulum stood still in the jarring machinery of time, the hands +pointing to a moment of joy. She was quite happy, as any of us may be +who seek the fellowship of dancing leaves and strong, bright sun. She +turned into a cross-road, hardly wider than a lane, and bordered with +wild rose and fragrant raspberry. There was but one house here,--a +little, time-stained cottage, where Tom McNeil lived with his wife and +five children. Perhaps these were the happiest people in all Tiverton, +though no one but themselves had ever found it out. Tom made shoes in a +desultory fashion, and played the fiddle earnestly all winter, and in +summer, peddled essences and medicines from a pack strapped over his +shoulders. Sometimes in the warm summer weather Molly, his wife, and +all the children tramped with him, so that the house was closed for +weeks at a time,--a thing very trying to the conventional sensibilities +of Tiverton. Tom might have had a "stiddy job o' work" with some of the +farmers; Molly might have helped about the churning and ironing. But +no! they were like the birds, nesting happily in summer, and drawing +their feet under their feathers when the snow drifted in. The +children--lank, wild-eyed creatures--each went to school a few months, +and then stopped, unable to bear the cross of confinement within four +dull walls. They could not write; it was even rumored that they had +never learned to tell time. And, indeed, what good would it have done +them when the clock was run down and stood always at the hour of noon? +But they knew where thoroughwort grows, and the wholesome goldthread; +they gathered cress and peppermint, and could tell the mushroom from +its noisome kindred. Day after day, they roamed the woods for simples +to be distilled by the father, and made into potent salves and +ointments for man and the beasties he loved better. + +When Lucindy came in sight of the house, she was glad to find it open. +She had scarcely gone so far afield for years, and the reports +concerning this strange people had reached her only by hearsay. She +felt like a discoverer. In close neighborhood to the house stood a +peculiar structure,--the half-finished dwelling McNeil had attempted, +in a brief access of ambition, to build with his own hands. The +chimney, slightly curving and very ragged at the top, stood foolishly +above the unfinished lower story. Lucindy remembered hearing how Tom +had begun the chimney first, and built the house round it. But the +fulfilment of his worldly dream never came to pass; and perhaps it was +quite as well, for thereby would the unity of his existence have been +destroyed. He might have lived up to the house; he might even have +grown into a proud man, and accumulated dollars. But the bent of birth +was too much for him. A day dawned, warm and entrancing; he left his +bricks and boards in the midst, and the whole family went joyfully off +on a tramp. To Tiverton, the unfinished house continued to serve as an +immortal joke, and Tom smiled as broadly as any. He always said he +couldn't finish it; he had mislaid the plan. + +A little flower-garden bloomed between the two houses, and on the +grass, by one of its clove-pink borders, sat a woman, rocking back and +forth in an ancient chair, and doing absolutely nothing. She was young, +and seemed all brown; for her eyes were dark, and her skin had been +tanned to the deep, rich tint sweeter to some eyes than pure roses and +milk. Lucindy guided Buckskin up to the gate, and Molly McNeil looked +up and smiled without moving. + +"How do?" she said, in a soft, slow voice. "Won't you come in?" + +Lucindy was delighted. It was long since she had met a stranger. + +"Well, I would," she answered, "but I don't know as I can get down. +This is new business to me." + +"Ellen," called Mrs. McNeil, "you bring out somethin' to step on!" + +A little girl appeared with a yellow kitchen chair. Mrs. McNeil rose, +carried it outside the gate, and planted it by Buckskin's side. + +"There!" she said, "you put your hand on my shoulder and step down. It +won't tip. I've got my knee on it." + +Lucindy alighted, with some difficulty, and drew a long breath. + +"I'll hitch him," said Molly McNeil. "You go in and sit down in that +chair, and Ellen'll bring you a drink of water." + +Ellen was barelegged and barefooted. Her brown hair hung over her dark +eyes in a pleasant tangle. Her even teeth were white, and her lips red. +There was no fault nor blemish in her little face; and when she had +brought the dipper full of water, and stood rubbing one foot against +its neighboring leg, Lucindy thought she had never seen anything so +absolutely bewitching. Molly had hitched the horse, in manly and +knowing fashion, and then seated herself on the kitchen chair beside +Lucindy; but the attitude seemed not to suit her, and presently she +rose and lay quietly down at full length on the grass. She did it quite +as a matter of course, and her visitor thought it looked very pleasant; +possibly she would have tried it herself if she had not been so +absorbed in another interest. She was watching the little girl, who was +running into the house with the dipper. + +"Ain't she complete!" she said. "Your oldest?" + +"She ain't mine at 'all." Mrs. McNeil rose on one elbow, and began +chewing a grass stem. + +It was very restful to Lucindy to see some one who was too much +interested in anything, however trivial, to be interested in her. "You +know about the Italian that come round with the hand-organ last month? +He was her father. Well, he died,--fell off a mow one night,--and the +town sold the hand-organ and kept Ellen awhile on the farm. But she run +away, and my boys found her hidin' in the woods starved most to death. +So I took her in, and the overseer said I was welcome to her. She's a +nice little soul." + +"She's proper good-lookin'!" Lucindy's eyes were sparkling. + +"She don't look as well as common to-day, for the boys went off +plummin' without her. She was asleep, and I didn't want to call her. +She had a cryin' spell when she waked up, but I didn't know which way +they'd gone." + +Ellen came wandering round the side of the house, and Lucindy crooked a +trembling finger at her. + +"Come here!" she called. "You come here and see me!" + +Ellen walked up to her with a steady step, and laid one little brown +hand on Lucindy's knee. But the old Judge's daughter drew the child +covetously to her lap. + +"Look here," she said, "should you like to go home and spend a week +with me?" + +The little maid threw back her tangle of curls, and looked Lucindy +squarely in the eyes. + +"Yes," she answered. + +Lucindy's grasp tightened round her. + +"How should you like to live with me?" + +The child touched her little breast inquiringly with one finger. + +"Me?" She pointed over to Mrs. McNeil, who lay listening and stretching +her limbs in lazy comfort. "Leave _her_?" And then, gravely, "No; she's +good to me." + +Lucindy's heart sank. + +"You could come over to see her," she pleaded, "and I'd come too. We'd +all go plummin' together. I should admire to! And we'd have parties, +and ask 'em all over. What say?" + +The child sat straight and serious, one warm hand clinging to Lucindy's +slender palm. But her eyes still sought the face of her older friend. +Molly McNeil rose to a sitting posture. She took the straw from her +mouth, and spoke with the happy frankness of those who have no fear +because they demand nothing save earth and sky room. + +"I know who you are," she said to Lucindy. "You're left well off, and I +guess you could bring up a child, give you your way. We're as poor as +poverty! You take her, if she'll go. Ellen, she's a nice lady; you +better say 'yes.'" + +Lucindy was trembling all over. + +"You come, dear," she urged, piteously. "You come and live with me." + +Ellen thought a moment more. Then she nodded. + +"I'll come," said she. + +Lucindy could not wait. + +"I'll send a wagon over after her to-night." She had put Ellen down, and +was rising tremblingly. "I won't stop to talk no more now, but you come +and see me, won't you? Now, if you'll help me mount up--there! My! it's +higher 'n 'twas before! Well, I'll see you again." She turned Old +Buckskin's head away from the fence; then she pulled him fiercely round +again. "Here!" she called, "what if she should jump up behind me and +come now!" + +Mrs. McNeil, being the thrall only of the earth, saw no reason, why a +thing should not be done as one wanted it. She lifted; the child and +set her on the horse behind Lucindy. And so, in this strange fashion, +the two entered the high street of Tiverton. + +A few weeks after this, Mrs. Wilson and Lucindy went together to the +little millinery shop. Ellen trotted between them, taking excursions +into the street, now and again, in pursuit of butterflies or +thistledown. When they entered, Miss West, who had seen their approach +from her position at the ironing-board, came forward with a gay little +hat in her hand. It was trimmed with pink, and a wreath of tiny white +flowers clung about the crown. She set it on Ellen's curls; and Ellen, +her face quite radiant, looked up at Miss Lucindy for approval. But +that lady was gazing anxiously at Mrs. Wilson. + +"Now, there ain't anything unsuitable about that, is there?" she asked. +"I know, it's gay, and I want it to be gay. I can tell about _that_! +But is it all right? Is it such as you'd be willin' to have Claribel +wear?" + +"It's a real beauty!" Mrs. Wilson answered, cordially; but she could +not refrain from adding, while Miss West was doing up the hat, and +Ellen surreptitiously tried on a black poke bonnet, "Now, don't you +spile her, Lucindy! She's a nice little girl as ever was, but you ain't +no more fit to bring up a child than the cat!" + +Lucindy did not hear. She was smiling at Ellen, and Ellen smiled back +at her. They thought they knew. + + + + +TOLD IN THE POORHOUSE. + + +"Le' me see," said old Sally Flint, "was it fifty year ago, or was it +on'y forty? Some'er's betwixt 1825 an' '26 it must ha' been when they +were married, an' 'twas in '41 he died." + +The other old women in the Poorhouse sitting-room gathered about her. +Old Mrs. Forbes, who dearly loved a story, unwound a length of yarn +with peculiar satisfaction, and put her worn shoe up to the fire. +Everybody knew when Sally Flint was disposed to open her unwritten book +of folk-tales for the public entertainment; and to-day, having tied on +a fresh apron and bound a new piece of red flannel about her wrist, she +was, so to speak, in fighting trim. The other members of the Poorhouse +had scanty faith in that red flannel. They were aware that Sally had +broken her wrist, some twenty years before, and that the bandage was +consequently donned on days when her "hand felt kind o' cold," or was +"burnin' like fire embers;" but there was an unspoken suspicion that it +really served as token of her inability to work whenever she felt bored +by the prescribed routine of knitting and sweeping. No one had dared +presume on that theory, however, since the day when an untactful +overseer had mentioned it, to be met by such a stream of unpleasant +reminiscence concerning his immediate ancestry that he had retreated in +dismay, and for a week after, had served extra pieces of pie to his +justly offended charge. + +"They were married in June," continued Sally. "No, 'twa'n't; 'twas the +last o' May. May thirty-fust--no, May 'ain't but thirty days, has it?" + +"'Thirty days hath September,'" quoted Mrs. Giles, with importance. +"That's about all I've got left o' my schoolin', Miss Flint. May's got +thirty-one days, sure enough." + +"Call it the thirty-fust, then. It's nigh enough, anyway. Well, Josh +Marden an' Lyddy Ann Crane was married, an' for nine year they lived +like two kittens. Old Sperry Dyer, that wanted to git Lyddy himself, +used to call 'em cup an' sasser, 'There they be,' he'd say, when he +stood outside the meetin'-house door an' they drove up; 'there comes +cup an' sasser.' Lyddy was a little mite of a thing, with great black +eyes; an' if Josh hadn't been as tough as tripe, he'd ha' got all wore +out waitin' on her. He even washed the potaters for her, made the +fires, an' lugged water. Scairt to death if she was sick! She used to +have sick headaches, an' one day he stopped choppin' pine limbs near +the house 'cause the noise hurt Lyddy Ann's head. Another time, I +recollect, she had erysipelas in her face, an' I went in to carry some +elder-blows, an' found him readin' the Bible. 'Lord!' says I, 'Josh; +that's on'y Genesis! 'twon't do the erysipelas a mite o' good for you +to be settin' there reading the be'gats! You better turn to +Revelation.' But 'twa'n't all on his side, nuther. 'Twas give an' take +with them. It used to seem as if Lyddy Ann kind o' worshipped him. +'Josh' we all called him; but she used to say 'Joshuay,' an' look at +him as if he was the Lord A'mighty." + +"My! Sally!" said timid Mrs. Spenser, under her breath; but Sally gave +no heed, and swept on in the stream of her recollections. + +"Well, it went on for fifteen year, an' then 'Mandy Knowles, Josh's +second cousin, come to help 'em with the work. 'Mandy was a queer +creatur'. I've studied a good deal over her, an' I dunno's I've quite +got to the bottom of her yit. She was one o' them sort o' slow women, +with a fat face, an' she hadn't got over dressin' young, though Lyddy +an' the rest of us that was over thirty was wearin' caps an' talkin' +about false fronts. But she never'd had no beaux; an' when Josh begun +to praise her an' say how nice 'twas to have her there, it tickled her +e'en a'most to death. She'd lived alone with her mother an' two +old-maid aunts, an' she didn't know nothin' about men-folks; I al'ays +thought she felt they was different somehow,--kind o' cherubim an' +seraphim,--an' you'd got to mind 'em as if you was the Childern of +Isr'el an' they was Moses. Josh never meant a mite o' harm, I'll say +that for him. He was jest man-like, that's all. There's lots o' +different kinds,--here, Mis' Niles, you know; you've buried your +third,--an' Josh was the kind that can't see more'n, one woman to a +time. He looked at 'Mandy, an' he got over seein' Lyddy Ann, that's +all. Things would ha' come out all right--as right as they be for most +married folks--if Lyddy Ann hadn't been so high-sperited; but she set +the world by Joshuay, an' there 'twas. 'Ain't it nice to have her +here?' he kep' on sayin' over'n' over to Lyddy, an' she'd say 'Yes;' +but byme-by, when she found he was al'ays on hand to bring a pail o' +water for 'Mandy, or to throw away her suds, or even help hang out the +clo'es--I see 'em hangin' out clo'es one day when I was goin' across +their lot huckleberr'in', an' he did look like a great gump, an' so did +she--well, then, Lyddy Ann got to seemin' kind o' worried, an' she had +more sick headaches than ever. Twa'n't a year afore that, I'd been in +one day when she had a headache, an' he says, as if he was perfessin' +his faith in meetin', 'By gum! I wish I could have them headaches for +her!' an' I thought o' speakin' of it, about now, when I run in to +borrer some saleratus, an' he hollered into the bedroom: 'Lyddy Ann, +you got another headache? If I had such a head as that, I'd cut it +off!' An' all the time 'Mandy did act like the very Old Nick, jest as +any old maid would that hadn't set her mind on menfolks till she was +thirty-five. She bought a red-plaid bow an' pinned it on in front, an' +one day I ketched her at the lookin'-glass pullin' out a gray hair. + +"'Land, 'Mandy,' says I (I spoke right up), 'do you pull 'em out as +fast as they come? That's why you ain't no grayer, I s'pose. I was +sayin' the other day, "'Mandy Knowles is gittin' on, but she holds her +own pretty well. I dunno how she manages it, whether she dyes or not,"' +says I. + +"An' afore she could stop herself, 'Mandy turned round, red as a beet, +to look at Josh an' see if he heard. He stamped out into the +wood-house, but Lyddy Ann never took her eyes off her work. Them little +spiteful things didn't seem to make no impression on her. I've thought +a good many times sence, she didn't care how handsome other women was, +nor how scrawny she was herself, if she could on'y keep Josh. An' Josh +he got kind o' fretful to her, an' she to him, an' 'Mandy was all honey +an' cream. Nothin' would do but she must learn how to make the +gingerbread he liked, an' iron his shirts; an' when Lyddy Ann found he +seemed to praise things up jest as much as he had when she done 'em, +she give 'em up, an' done the hard things herself, an' let 'Mandy see +to Josh. She looked pretty pindlin' then, mark my words; but I never +see two such eyes in anybody's head. I s'pose 'twas a change for Josh, +anyway, to be with a woman like 'Mandy, that never said her soul's her +own, for Lyddy'd al'ays had a quick way with her; but, land! you can't +tell about men, what changes 'em or what don't. If you're tied to one, +you've jest got to bear with him, an' be thankful if he don't run some +kind of a rig an' make you town-talk." + +There was a murmur from gentle Lucy Staples, who had been constant for +fifty years to the lover who died in her youth; but no one took any +notice of her, and Sally Flint went on: + +"It come spring, an' somehow or nuther 'Mandy found out the last o' +March was Josh's birthday, an' nothin' would do but she must make him a +present. So she walked over to Sudleigh, an' bought him a great long +pocket-book that you could put your bills into without foldin' 'em, an' +brought it home, tickled to death because she'd been so smart. Some o' +this come out at the time, an' some wa'n't known till arterwards; the +hired man told some, an' a good deal the neighbors see themselves. An' +I'll be whipped if 'Mandy herself didn't tell the heft on't arter 'twas +all over. She wa'n't more'n half baked in a good many things. It got +round somehow that the pocket-book was comin', an' when, I see 'Mandy +walkin' home that arternoon, I ketched up my shawl an' run in behind +her, to borrer some yeast. Nobody thought anything o' birthdays in our +neighborhood, an' mebbe that made it seem a good deal more 'n 'twas; +but when I got in there, I vow I was sorry I come. There set Josh by +the kitchen table, sort o' red an' pleased, with his old pocket-book +open afore him, an' he was puttin' all his bills an' papers into the +new one, an' sayin', every other word,-- + +"'Why, 'Mandy, I never see your beat! Ain't this a nice one, Lyddy?' + +"An' 'Mandy was b'ilin' over with pride, an' she stood there takin' off +her cloud; she'd been in such a hurry to give it to him she hadn't even +got her things off fust. Lyddy stood by the cupboard, lookin' straight +at the glass spoon-holder. I thought arterwards I didn't b'lieve she +see it; an' if she did, I guess she never forgot it. + +"'Yes, it's a real nice one,' says I. + +"I had to say suthin', but in a minute, I was most scairt. Lyddy turned +round, in a kind of a flash; her face blazed all over red, an' her eyes +kind o' went through me. She stepped up to the table, an' took up the +old pocket-book. + +"'You've got a new one,' says she. 'May I have this?' + +"'Course you may,' says he. + +"He didn't look up to see her face, an' her voice was so soft an' +still, I guess he never thought nothin' of it. Then she held the +pocket-book up tight ag'inst her dress waist an' walked off into the +bedroom. I al'ays thought she never knew I was there. An' arterwards it +come out that that old pocket-book was one she'd bought for him afore +they was married,--earned it bindin' shoes." + +"_'Twas_ kind o' hard," owned Mrs. Niles, bending forward, and, with +hands clasped over her knees, peering into the coals for data regarding +her own marital experiences. "But if 'twas all wore out--did you say +'twas wore?--well, then I dunno's you could expect him to set by it. +An' 'twa'n't as if he'd give it away; they'd got it between 'em." + +"I dunno; it's all dark to me," owned Sally Flint. "I guess 'twould +puzzle a saint to explain men-folks, anyway, but I've al'ays thought +they was sort o' numb about some things. Anyway, Josh Marden was. Well, +things went on that way till the fust part o' the summer, an' then they +come to a turnin'-p'int. I s'pose they'd got to, some time, an' it +might jest as well ha' been fust as last. Lyddy Ann was pretty +miserable, an' she'd been dosin' with thoroughwort an' what all when +anybody told her to; but I al'ays thought she never cared a mite +whether she lived to see another spring. The day I'm comin' to, she was +standin' over the fire fryin' fish, an' 'Mandy was sort o' fiddlin' +round, settin' the table, an' not doin' much of anything arter all. I +dunno how she come to be so aggravatin', for she was al'ays ready to do +her part, if she _had_ come between husband an' wife. You know how hard +it is to git a fish dinner! Well, Lyddy Ann was tired enough, anyway. +An' when Josh come in, 'Mandy she took a cinnamon-rose out of her +dress, an' offered it to him. + +"'Here's a flower for your button-hole,' says she, as if she wa'n't +more 'n sixteen. An' then she set down in a chair, an' fanned herself +with a newspaper. + +"Now that chair happened to be Lyddy Ann's at the table, an' she see +what was bein' done. She turned right round, with the fish-platter in +her hand, an' says she, in an awful kind of a voice,-- + +"'You git up out o' my chair! You've took my husband away, but you +sha'n't take my place at the table!' + +"The hired man was there, washin' his hands at the sink, an' he told it +to me jest as it happened. Well, I guess they all thought they was +struck by lightnin', an' Lyddy Ann most of all. Josh he come to, fust. +He walked over to Lyddy Ann. + +"'You put down that platter!' says he. An' she begun to tremble, an' +set it down. + +"I guess they thought there was goin' to be murder done, for 'Mandy +busted right out cryin' an' come runnin' over to me, an' the hired man +took a step an' stood side o' Lyddy Ann. He was a little mite of a man, +Cyrus was, but he wouldn't ha' stood no violence. + +"Josh opened the door that went into the front entry, an' jest p'inted. +'You walk in there,' he says, 'an' you stay there. That's your half o' +the house, an' this is mine. Don't you dast to darken my doors!' + +"Lyddy Ann she walked through the entry an' into the fore-room, an' he +shet the door." + +"I wouldn't ha' done it!" snorted old Mrs. Page, who had spent all her +property in lawsuits over a right of way. "Ketch me!" + +"You would if you'd 'a' been Lyddy Ann!" said Sally Flint, with an +emphatic nod. Then she continued: "I hadn't more'n heard 'Mandy's story +afore I was over there; but jest as I put my foot on the door-sill, +Josh he come for'ard to meet me. + +"'What's wanted?' says he. An' I declare for't I was so scairt I jest +turned round an' cut for home. An' there set 'Mandy, wringin' her +hands. + +"'What be I goin' to do?' says she, over 'n' over. 'Who ever'd ha' +thought o' this?' + +"'The thing for you to do,' says I, 'is to go, straight home to your +mother, an' I'll harness up an' carry you. Don't you step your foot +inside that house ag'in. Maybe ma'am will go over an' pack up your +things. You've made mischief enough.' So we got her off that +arter-noon, an' that was an end of _her_. + +"I never could see what made Josh think so quick that day. We never +thought he was brighter 'n common; but jest see how in that flash o' +bein' mad with Lyddy Ann he'd planned out what would be most wormwood +for her! He gi'n her the half o' the house she'd furnished herself with +hair-cloth chairs an' a whatnot, but 'twa'n't the part that was fit to +be lived in. She stayed pretty close for three or four days, an' I +guess she never had nothin' to eat. It made me kind o' sick to think of +her in there settin' on her hair-cloth sofy, an' lookin' at her wax +flowers an' the coral on the what-not, an' thinkin' what end she'd +made. It was of a Monday she was sent in there, an' Tuesday night I +slipped over an' put some luncheon on the winder-sill; but 'twas there +the next day, an' Cyrus see the old crower fly up an' git it. An' that +same Tuesday mornin', Josh had a j'iner come an' begin a partition +right straight through the house. It was all rough boards, like a high +fence, an' it cut the front entry in two, an' went right through the +kitchen--so't the kitchen stove was one side on't, an' the sink the +other. Lyddy Ann's side had the stove. I was glad o' that, though I +s'pose she 'most had a fit every day to think o' him tryin' to cook +over the airtight in the settin'-room. Seemed kind o' queer to go to +the front door, too, for you had to open it wide an' squeeze round the +partition to git into Lyddy Ann's part, an' a little mite of a crack +would let you into Josh's. But they didn't have many callers. It was a +good long while afore anybody dared to say a word to her; an' as for +Josh, there wa'n't nobody that cared about seein' him but the +tax-collector an' pedlers. + +"Well, the trouble Josh took to carry out that mad fit! He split wood +an' laid it down at Lyddy Ann's door, an' he divided the eggs an' milk, +an' shoved her half inside. He bought her a separate barrel o' flour, +an' all the groceries he could think on; they said he laid money on her +winder-sill. But, take it all together, he was so busy actin' like a +crazed one that he never got his 'taters dug till 'most time for the +frost. Lyddy Ann she never showed her head among the neighbors ag'in. +When she see she'd got to stay there, she begun to cook for herself; +but one day, one o' the neighbors heard her pleadin' with Josh, out in +the cow-yard, while he was milkin'. + +"'O Joshuay,' she kep' a-sayin' over 'n' over, 'you needn't take me +back, if you'll on'y let me do your work! You needn't speak to me, an' +I'll live in the other part; but I shall be crazy if you don't let me +do your work. O Joshuay! O Joshuay!' She cried an' cried as if her +heart would break, but Josh went on milkin', an' never said a word. + +"I s'pose she thought he'd let her, the old hunks, for the next day, +she baked some pies an' set 'em on the table in his part. She reached +in through the winder to do it. But that night, when Josh come home, he +hove 'em all out into the back yard, an' the biddies eat 'em up. The +last time I was there, I see them very pieces o' pie-plate, white an' +blue-edged, under the syringa bush. Then she kind o' give up hope. I +guess--But no! I'm gittin' ahead o' my story. She did try him once +more. Of course his rooms got to lookin' like a hog's nest--" + +"My! I guess when she see him doin' his own washin', she thought the +pocket-book was a small affair," interpolated Mrs. Niles. + +"She used to go round peerin' into his winders when he wa'n't there, +an' one day, arter he'd gone off to trade some steers, she jest spunked +up courage an' went in an' cleaned all up. I see the bed airin', an' +went over an' ketched her at it. She hadn't more'n got through an' +stepped outside when Josh come home, an' what should he do but take the +wheelbarrer an', beat out as he was drivin' oxen five mile, go down to +the gravel-pit an' get a barrerful o' gravel. He wheeled it up to the +side door, an' put a plank over the steps, an' wheeled it right in. An' +then he dumped it in the middle o' his clean floor. That was the last +o' her tryin' to do for him on the sly. + +"I should ha' had some patience with him if 'twa'n't for one thing he +done to spite her. Seemed as if he meant to shame her that way afore +the whole neighborhood. He wouldn't speak to her himself, but he sent a +painter by trade to tell her he was goin' to paint the house, an' to +ask her what color she'd ruther have. The painter said she acted sort +o' wild, she was so pleased. She told him yaller; an' Josh had him go +right to work on't next day. But he had her half painted yaller, an' +his a kind of a drab, I guess you'd call it. He sold a piece o' ma'sh +to pay for't. Dr. Parks said you might as well kill a woman with a +hatchet, as the man did down to Sudleigh, as put her through such +treatment. My! ain't it growin' late? Here, let me set back by the +winder. I want to see who goes by, to-day. An' I'll cut my story short. + +"Well, they lived jest that way. Lyddy Ann she looked like an old +woman, in a month or two. She looked every minute as old as you do, +Mis' Gridley. Ain't you sixty-nine? Well, she wa'n't but thirty-six. +Her hair turned gray, an' she was all stooped over. Sometimes I thought +she wa'n't jest right. I used to go in to see if she'd go coltsfootin' +with me, or plummin'; but she never'd make me no answer. I recollect +two things she said. One day, she set rockin' back'ards an' for'ards in +a straight chair, holdin' her hands round her knees, an' she says,-- + +"'I 'ain't got no pride, Sally Flint! I 'ain't got no pride!' + +"An' once she looked up kind o' pitiful an' says, 'Ain't it queer I +can't die?' But, poor creatur', I never thought she knew what she was +sayin'. She'd ha' been the last one to own she wa'n't contented if +she'd had any gover'ment over her words. + +"Well, Josh he'd turned the hired man away because he couldn't do for +him over the airtight stove, an' he got men to help him by days' works. +An' through the winter, he jest set over the fire an' sucked his claws, +an' thought how smart he was. But one day 'twas awful cold, an' we'd +been tryin' out lard, an' the fat ketched fire, an' everything was all +up in arms, anyway. Cyrus he was goin' by Josh's, an' he didn't see no +smoke from the settin'-room stove. So he jest went to the side door an' +walked in, an' there set Josh in the middle o' the room. Couldn't move +hand nor foot! Cyrus didn't stop for no words, but he run over to our +house, hollerin', 'Josh Harden's got a stroke!' An' ma'am left the +stove all over fat an' run, an' I arter her, I guess Lyddy Ann must ha' +seen us comin', for we hadn't more'n got into the settin'-room afore +she was there. The place was cold as a barn, an' it looked like a +hurrah's nest. Josh never moved, but his eyes follered her when she +went into the bedroom to spread up the bed. + +"'You help me, Cyrus,' says she, kind, o' twittery-like, but calm. +'We'll carry him in here. I can lift.' + +"But our men-folks got there jest about as they was tryin' to plan how +to take him, an' they h'isted him onto the bed. Cyrus harnessed up our +horse an' went after Dr. Parks, an' by the time he come, we'd got the +room so's to look decent. An'--if you'll b'lieve it! Lyddy Ann was in +the bedroom tryin' to warm Josh up an' make him take some hot drink; +but when I begun to sweep up, an' swop towards that gravel-pile in the +middle o' the floor, she come hurryin' up, all out o' breath. She +ketched the broom right out o' my hand. + +"I'll sweep, byme-by,' says she. 'Don't you touch that gravel, none on +ye!' An' so the gravel laid there, an' we walked round it, watchers an' +all. + +"She wouldn't have no watcher in his bedroom, though; she was +determined to do everything but turn him an' lift him herself, but +there was al'ays one or two settin' round to keep the fires goin' an' +make sure there was enough cooked up. I swan, I never see a woman so +happy round a bed o' sickness as Lyddy Ann was! She never made no fuss +when Josh was awake, but if he shet his eyes, she'd kind o' hang over +the bed an' smooth the clo'es as if they was kittens, an' once I +ketched her huggin' up the sleeve of his old barn coat that hung +outside the door. If ever a woman made a fool of herself over a man +that wa'n't wuth it, 'twas Lyddy Ann Marden! + +"Well, Josh he hung on for a good while, an' we couldn't make out +whether he had his senses or not. He kep' his eyes shet most o' the +time; but when Lyddy Ann's back was turned, he seemed to know it +somehow, an' he'd open 'em an' foller her all round the room. But he +never spoke. I asked the doctor about it. + +"'Can't he speak, doctor?' says I. 'He can move that hand a leetle +to-day. Don't you s'pose he could speak, if he'd a mind to?' + +"The doctor he squinted up his eyes--he al'ays done that when he didn't +want to answer--an' he says,-- + +"'I guess he's thinkin' on't over.' + +"But one day, Lyddy Ann found she was all beat out, an' she laid down +in the best bedroom an' went to sleep. I set with Josh. I was narrerin' +off, but when I looked up, he was beckonin' with his well hand. I got +up, an' went to the bed. + +"'Be you dry?' says I. He made a little motion, an' then he lifted his +hand an' p'inted out into the settin'-room. + +"Do you want Lyddy Ann?' says I. 'She's laid down.' No, he didn't want +her. I went to the settin'-room door an' looked out, an'--I dunno how +'twas--it all come to me. + +"'Is it that gravel-heap?' says I. 'Do you want it carried off, an' the +floor swop up?' An' he made a motion to say 'Yes.' I called Cyrus, an' +we made short work o' that gravel. When, I'd took up the last mite +on't, I went back to the bed. + +"'Josh Marden,' says I, 'can you speak, or can't you?' But he shet his +eyes, an' wouldn't say a word. + +"When Lyddy Ann come out, I told her what he'd done, an' then she did +give way a little mite. Two tears come out o' her eyes, an' jest rolled +down her cheeks, but she didn't give up to 'em. + +"'Sally,' says she, sort o' peaceful, 'I guess I'll have a cup o' tea.' + +"Well, there was times when we thought Josh would git round ag'in, if +he didn't have another stroke. I dunno whether he did have another or +not, but one night, he seemed to be sort o' sinkin' away. Lyddy Ann she +begun to turn white, an' she set down by him an' rubbed his sick hand. +He looked at her,--fust time he had, fair an' square,--an' then he +begun to wobble his lips round an' make a queer noise with 'em. She put +her head down, an' then she says, 'Yes, Joshuay! yes, dear!' An' she +got up an' took the pocket-book 'Mandy had gi'n him off the top o' the +bureau, an' laid it down on the bed where he could git it. But he shook +his head, an' said the word ag'in, an' a queer look--as if she was +scairt an' pleased--flashed over Lyddy Ann's face. She run into the +parlor, an' come back with that old pocket-book he'd give up to her, +an' she put it into his well hand. That was what he wanted. His fingers +gripped it up, an' he shet his eyes. He never spoke ag'in. He died that +night." + +"I guess she died, too!" said Lucy Staples, under her breath, +stealthily wiping a tear from her faded cheek. + +"No, she didn't, either!" retorted Sally Flint, hastily, getting up to +peer from the window down the country road. "She lived a good many +year, right in that very room he'd drove her out on, an' she looked as +if she owned the airth. I've studied on it consid'able, an' I al'ays +s'posed 'twas because she'd got him, an' that was all she cared for. +There's the hearse now, an' two carriages, step an' step." + +"Land! who's dead?" exclaimed Mrs. Forbes, getting up in haste, while +her ball rolled unhindered to the other end of the room. + +"It's Lyddy Ann Marden," returned Sally Flint, with the triumphant +quiet of one first at the goal. "I see it this mornin' in the 'County +Democrat,' when I was doin' up my wrist, an' you was all so busy." + + + + +HEMAN'S MA. + + +It was half-past nine of a radiant winter's night, and the Widder +Poll's tooth still ached, though she was chewing cloves, and had +applied a cracker poultice to her cheek. She was walking back and forth +through the great low-studded kitchen, where uncouth shadows lurked and +brooded, still showing themselves ready to leap aloft with any +slightest motion of the flames that lived behind the old black +fire-dogs. At every trip across the room, she stopped to look from the +window into the silver paradise without, and at every glance she +groaned, as if groaning were a duty. The kitchen was unlighted save by +the fire and one guttering candle; but even through such inadequate +illumination the Widder Poll was a figure calculated to stir rich +merriment in a satirical mind. Her contour was rather square than +oblong, and she was very heavy. In fact, she had begun to announce that +her ankles wouldn't bear her much longer, and she should "see the day +when she'd have to set by, from mornin' to night, like old Anrutty +Green that had the dropsy so many years afore she was laid away." Her +face, also, was cut upon the broadest pattern in common use, and her +small, dull eyes and closely shut mouth gave token of that firmness +which, save in ourselves, we call obstinacy. To-night, however, her +features were devoid of even their wonted dignity, compressed, as they +had been, by the bandage encircling her face. She looked like a +caricature of her unprepossessing self. On one of her uneasy journeys +to the window, she caught the sound of sleigh-bells; and staying only +to assure herself of their familiar ring, she hastily closed the +shutter, and, going back to the fireplace, sank into a chair there, and +huddled over the blaze. The sleigh drove slowly into the yard, and +after the necessary delay of unharnessing, a man pushed open the side +door, and entered the kitchen. He, too, was short and square of build, +though he had no superfluous flesh. His ankles would doubtless continue +to bear him for many a year to come. His face was but slightly +accented; he had very thin eyebrows, light hair, and only a shaggy +fringe of whisker beneath the chin. This was Heman Blaisdell, the +Widder Poll's brother-in-law, for whom she had persistently kept house +ever since the death of his wife, four years ago. He came in without +speaking, and after shaking himself out of his great-coat, sat silently +down in his armchair by the fire. The Widder Poll held both hands to +her face, and groaned again. At length, curiosity overcame her, and, +quite against her judgment, she spoke. She was always resolving that +she would never again take the initiative; but every time her +resolution went down before the certainty that if she did not talk, +there would be no conversation at all,--for Heman had a staying power +that was positively amazing. + +"Well?" she began, interrogatively. + +Heman only stirred slightly in his chair. + +"_Well!_ ain't you goin' to tell me what went on at the meetin'?" + +Her quarry answered patiently, yet with a certain dogged resistance of +her,-- + +"I dunno's there's anything to tell." + +"How'd it go off?" + +"'Bout as usual." + +"Did you speak?" + +"No." + +"Lead in prayer?" + +"No." + +"Wa'n't you _asked_?" + +"No." + +"Well, my soul! Was Roxy Cole there?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you fetch her home?" + +"No, I didn't!" Some mild exasperation animated his tone at last. The +Widder detected it, and occupied herself with her tooth. + +"My soul an' body! I wonder if it's goin' to grumble all night long!" +she exclaimed, bending lower over the blaze. "I've tried everything but +a roasted raisin, an' I b'lieve I shall come to that." + +Heman rose, and opened the clock on the mantel; he drew forth the key +from under the pendulum, and slowly wound up the time-worn machinery. +In another instant, he would be on his way to bed; the Widder knew she +must waste no time in hurt silence, if she meant to find out anything. +She began hastily,-- + +"Did they say anything about the church fair?" + +"They ain't goin' to have it." + +"Not have it! Well, how _be_ they goin' to git the shinglin' paid for?" + +"They've got up the idee of an Old Folks' Concert." + +"Singin'?" + +"Singin' an' playin'." + +"Who's goin' to play?" + +"Brad Freeman an' Jont Marshall agreed to play fust an' second fiddle." +Heman paused a moment, and straightened himself with an air of +conscious pride; then he added,-- + +"They've asked me to play the bass-viol." + +The Widder had no special objections to this arrangement, but it did +strike her as an innovation; and when she had no other reason for +disapproval, she still believed in it on general principles. So +altogether effective a weapon should never rust from infrequent use! + +"Well!" she announced. "I never heard of such carryin's-on,--never!" + +Heman was lighting a small kerosene lamp. The little circle of light +seemed even brilliant in the dusky room; it affected him with a relief +so sudden and manifest as to rouse also a temporary irritation at +having endured the previous gloom even for a moment. + +"'Ain't you got no oil in the house?" he exclaimed, testily. "I wish +you'd light up, evenin's, an' not set here by one taller candle!" + +He had ventured on this remonstrance before, the only one he permitted +himself against his housekeeper's ways, and at the instant of making +it, he realized its futility. + +"The gre't lamp's all full," said the Widder, warming her apron and +pressing it to her poulticed face. "You can light it, if you've got the +heart to. That was poor Mary's lamp, an' hard as I've tried, I never +could bring myself to put a match to that wick. How many evenin's I've +seen her set by it, rockin' back'ards an' for'ards,--an' her needle +goin' in an' out! She was a worker, if ever there was one, poor +creatur'! At it all the time, jes' like a silk-worm." + +Heman was perfectly familiar with this explanation; from long +repetition, he had it quite by heart. Possibly that was why he did not +wait for its conclusion, but tramped stolidly away to his bedroom, +where he had begun to kick off his shoes by the time his sister-in-law +reached a period. + +The Widder had a fresh poultice waiting by the fire. She applied it to +her cheek, did up her face in an old flannel petticoat, and then, +having covered the fire, toiled up to bed. It was a wearisome journey, +for she carried a heavy soapstone which showed a tendency to conflict +with the candle, and she found it necessary to hold together most of +her garments; these she had "loosened a mite by the fire," according to +custom on cold nights, after Heman had left her the field. + +Next day, Heman went away into the woods chopping, and carried his +dinner of doughnuts and cheese, with a chunk of bean-porridge frozen +into a ball, to be thawed out by his noontime fire. He returned much +earlier than usual, and the Widder was at the window awaiting him. The +swelling in her cheek had somewhat subsided; and the bandage, no longer +distended by a poultice beneath, seemed, in comparison, a species of +holiday device. She was very impatient. She watched Heman, as he went +first to the barn; and even opened the back door a crack to listen for +the rattling of chains, the signal of feeding or watering. + +"What's he want to do that now for?" she muttered, closing the door +again, as the cold struck her cheek. "He'll have to feed 'em ag'in, +come night!" + +But at last he came, and, according to his silent wont, crossed the +kitchen to the sink, to wash his hands. He was an unobservant man, and +it did not occur to him that the Widder had on her Tycoon rep, the gown +she kept "for nice." Indeed, he was so unused to looking at her that he +might well have forgotten her outward appearance. He was only sure of +her size; he knew she cut off a good deal of light. One sign, however, +he did recognize; she was very cheerful, with a hollow good-nature +which had its meaning. + +"I got your shavin'-water all ready," she began. "Don't you burn ye +when ye turn it out." + +It had once been said of the Widder Poll that if she could hold her +tongue, the devil himself couldn't get ahead of her. But fortune had +not gifted her with such endurance, and she always spoke too often and +too soon. + +"Brad Freeman's been up here," she continued, eying Heman, as she drew +out the supper-table and put up the leaves. "I dunno's I ever knew +anybody so took up as he is with that concert, an' goin' to the vestry +to sing to-night, an' all. He said he'd call here an' ride 'long o' +you, an' I told him there'd be plenty o' room, for you'd take the +pung." + +If Heman felt any surprise at her knowledge of his purpose, he did not +betray it. He poured out his shaving-water, and looked about him for an +old newspaper. + +"I ain't goin' in the pung," he answered, without glancing at her. "The +shoe's most off'n one o' the runners now." + +The Widder Poll set a pie on the table with an emphasis unconsciously +embodying her sense that now, indeed, had come the time for remedies. + +"I dunno what you can take," she remarked, with that same foreboding +liveliness. "Three on a seat, an' your bass-viol, too!" + +Heman was lathering his cheeks before the mirror, where a sinuous Venus +and a too-corpulent Cupid disported themselves in a green landscape +above the glass. "There ain't goin' to be three," he said, patiently. +"T'others are goin' by themselves." + +The Widder took up her stand at a well-chosen angle, and looked at him +in silence. He paid no attention to her, and it was she who, of +necessity, broke into speech. + +"_Well!_ I've got no more to say. Do you mean to tell me you'd go off +playin' on fiddles an' bass-viols, an' leave me, your own wife's +sister, settin' here the whole evenin' long, all swelled up with the +toothache?" + +Heman often felt that he had reached a state of mind where nothing +could surprise him, but this point of view was really unexpected. He +decided, however, with some scorn, that the present misunderstanding +might arise from a confusion of terms in the feminine mind. + +"This ain't the concert," he replied, much as if she had proposed going +to the polls. "It's the rehearsal. That means where you play the tunes +over. The concert ain't comin' off for a month." + +And now the Widder Poll spoke with the air of one injured almost beyond +reparation. + +"I'd like to know what difference that makes! If a man's goin' where he +can't take his womenfolks, I say he'd better stay to home! an' if +there's things goin' on there't you don't want me to git hold of, I +tell you, Heman Blaisdell, you'd better by half stop shavin' you now, +an' take yourself off to bed at seven o'clock! Traipsin' round playin' +the fiddle at your age! Ain't I fond o' music?" + +"No, you ain't!" burst forth Heman, roused to brief revolt where his +beloved instrument was concerned. "You don't know Old Hunderd from +Yankee Doodle!" + +The Widder walked round the table and confronted him as he was turning +away from the glass, shaving-mug in hand. + +"You answer me one question! I know who's goin' to be there, an' set in +the chorus an' sing alto. Brad Freeman told me, as innercent as a lamb. +Heman Blaisdell, you answer me? Be you goin' to bring anybody here to +this house, an' set her in poor Mary's place? If you be, I ought to be +the fust one to know it." + +Heman looked at the shaving-mug for a moment, as if he contemplated +dashing it to the floor. Then he tightened his grasp on it, like one +putting the devil behind him. + +"No, I ain't," he said, doggedly, adding under his breath, "not unless +I'm drove to 't." + +"I dunno who could ha' done more," said the Widder, so patently with +the air of continuing for an indefinite period that Heman reached up +for his hat. "Where you goin'? Mercy sakes alive! don't you mean to eat +no supper, now I've got it all ready?" + +But Heman pushed his way past her and escaped, muttering something +about "feedin' the critters." Perhaps the "critters" under his care +were fed oftener than those on farms where the ingle-nook was at least +as cosey as the barn. + +These slight skirmishes always left Heman with an uneasy sense that +somehow he also must be to blame, though he never got beyond wondering +what could have been done to avert the squall. When he went back into +the kitchen, however,--the "critters" fed, and his own nerves soothed +by pitchforking the haymow with the vigor of one who assaults a +citadel,--he was much relieved at finding the atmosphere as clear as +usual; and as the early twilight drew on, he became almost happy at +thought of; the vivid pleasure before him. Never, since his wife died, +had he played his bass-viol in public; but he had long been in the +habit of "slying off" upstairs to it, as to a tryst with lover or +friend whom the world denied. The Widder Poll, though she heard it +wailing and droning thence, never seriously objected to it; the +practice was undoubtedly "shaller," but it kept him in the house. + +They ate supper in silence; and then, while she washed the dishes, +Heman changed his clothes, and went to the barn to harness. He stood +for a moment, irresolute, when the horse was ready, and then backed him +into the old blue pung. A queer little smile lurked at the corners of +his mouth. + +"I guess the shoe'll go once more," he muttered. "No, I ain't goin' to +marry ag'in! I said I ain't, an' I ain't. But I guess I can give a +neighbor a lift, if I want to!" + +Brad Freeman was waiting near the tack door when Heman led the horse +out of the barn. He was lank and lean, and his thick red hair strayed +low over the forehead. His army overcoat was rent here and there beyond +the salvation which lay in his wife's patient mending, and his old fur +cap showed the skin in moth-eaten patches; yet Heman thought, with a +wondering protest, how young he looked, how free from care. + +"Hullo, Heman!" called Brad. + +"How are ye?" responded Heman, with a cordiality Brad never failed to +elicit from his brother man. + +Heman left the horse standing, and opened the back door. + +He stopped short. An awful vision confronted him,--the Widder Poll, +clad not only in the Tycoon rep, but her best palm-leaf shawl, her +fitch tippet, and pumpkin hood; her face was still bandaged, and her +head-gear had been enwound by a green _barege_ veil. She stepped +forward with an alertness quite unusual in one so accustomed to +remembering her weight of mortal flesh. + +"Here!" she called, "you kind o' help me climb in. I ain't so spry as I +was once. You better give me a real boost. But, land! I mustn't talk. I +wouldn't git a mite of air into that tooth for a dollar bill." + +Heman stepped into the house for his bass-viol, and brought it out with +an extremity of tender care; he placed it, enveloped in its green baize +covering, in the bottom of the pung. Some ludicrous association between +the baize and the green _barege_ veil struck Brad so forcibly that he +gave vent to a chuckle, sliding cleverly into a cough. He tried to meet +Heman's eye, but Heman only motioned him to get in, and took his own +place without a word. Brad wondered if he could be ill; his face had +grown yellowish in its pallor, and he seemed to breathe heavily. + +Midway in their drive to the vestry, they passed a woman walking +briskly along in the snowy track. She was carrying her singing-books +under one arm, and holding her head high with that proud lift which had +seemed, more than anything else, to keep alive her girlhood's charm. + +"There's Roxy," said Brad. "Here, Heman, you let me jump out, an' you +give her a lift." But Heman looked straight before him, and drove on. + +By the time they entered Tiverton Street, the vestry was full of +chattering groups. Heman was the last to arrive. He made a long job of +covering the horse, inside the shed, resolved that nothing should tempt +him to face the general mirth at the Widder's entrance. For he could +not deceive himself as to the world's amused estimate of her +guardianship and his submission. He had even withdrawn from the School +Board, where he had once been proud to figure, because, entering the +schoolroom one day at recess, he had seen, on a confiscated slate at +the teacher's desk, a rough caricature representing "Heman and his Ma." +The Ma was at least half the size of the slate, while Heman was +microscopic; but, alas! his inflamed consciousness found in both a +resemblance which would mightily have surprised the artist. He felt +that if he ever saw another testimony of art to his unworthiness, he +might commit murder. + +When he did muster courage to push open the vestry door, the Widder +Poll sat alone by the stove, still unwinding her voluminous wrappings, +and the singers had very pointedly withdrawn by themselves. Brad and +Jont had begun to tune their fiddles, and the first prelusive snapping +of strings at once awakened Heman's nerves to a pleasant tingling; he +was excited at the nearness of the coming joy. He drew a full breath +when it struck home to him, with the warm certainty of a happy truth, +that if he did not look at her, even the Widder Poll could hardly spoil +his evening. Everybody greeted him with unusual kindliness, though some +could not refrain from coupling their word with a meaning glance at the +colossal figure near the stove. One even whispered,-- + +"She treed ye, didn't she, Heman?" + +He did not trust himself to answer, but drew the covering from his own +treasure, and began his part of the delicious snapping and screwing. + +"Where's Roxy?" called Jont Marshall "Can't do without her alto. +Anybody seen her?" + +Roxy was really very late, and Heman could not help wondering whether +she had delayed in starting because she had expected a friendly +invitation to ride, "All right," he reflected, bitterly. "She must get +used to it." + +The door opened, and Roxy came in. She had been walking fast, and her +color was high. Heman stole one glance at her, under cover of the +saluting voices. She was forty years old, yet her hair had not one +silver thread, and at that instant of happy animation, she looked +strikingly like her elder sister, to whom Heman used to give lozenges +when they were boy and girl together, and who died in India. Then Roxy +took her place, and Heman bent over his bass-viol. The rehearsal began. +Heman forgot all about his keeper sitting by the stove, as the old, +familiar tunes swelled up in the little room, and one antique phrase +after another awoke nerve-cells all unaccustomed nowadays to thrilling. +He could remember just when he first learned The Mellow Horn, and how +his uncle, the sailor, had used to sing it. "Fly like a youthful hart +or roe!" Were there spices still left on the hills of life? Ah, but +only for youth to smell and gather! Boldly, with a happy bravado, the +choir sang,-- + + "The British yoke, the Gallic chain, + Were placed upon our necks in vain!" + +And then came the pious climax of Coronation, America, and the +Doxology. Above the tumult of voices following the end of rehearsal, +some one announced the decision to meet on Wednesday night; and Heman, +his bass-viol again in its case, awoke, and saw the Widder putting on +her green veil. Rosa Tolman nudged her intimate friend, Laura Pettis, +behind Heman's back, and whispered,-- + +"I wonder if she's had a good time! There 'ain't been a soul for her to +speak to, the whole evenin' long!" + +The other girl laughed, with a delicious sense of fun in the situation, +and Heman recoiled; the sound was like a blow in the face. + +"Say, Heman," said Brad, speaking in his ear. "I guess I'll walk home, +so't you can take in Roxy." + +But Heman had bent his head, and was moving along with the rest, like a +man under a burden. + +"No," said he, drearily. "I can't. You come along." + +His tone was quite conclusive; and Brad, albeit wondering, said no +more. The three packed themselves into the pung, and drove away. Heman +was conscious of some dull relief in remembering that he need not pass +Roxy again on the road, for he heard her voice ring out clearly from a +group near the church. He wondered if anybody would go home with her, +and whether she minded the dark "spell o' woods" by the river. No +matter! It was of no use. She must get used to her own company. + +The Widder was almost torpid from her long sojourn by the stove; but +the tingling air roused her at last, and she spoke, though mumblingly, +remembering her tooth,-- + +"Proper nice tunes, wa'n't they? Was most on 'em new?" + +But Brad could not hear, and left it for Heman to answer; and Heman +gave his head a little restive shake, and said, "No." At his own gate, +he stopped. + +"I guess I won't car' you down home," he said to Brad. + +It was only a stone's-throw, Brad hesitated. + +"No, I, didn't mean for ye to," answered he, "but I'll stop an' help +unharness." + +"No," said Heman, gently. "You better not. I'd ruther do it." Even a +friendly voice had become unbearable in his ears. + +So, Brad, stepped down, lifted out his fiddle-case, and said +good-night. Heman drove into the yard, and stopped before the kitchen +door. He took the reins in one hand, and held out the other to the +Widder. + +"You be a mite careful o' your feet," he said. "That bass-viol slipped +a little for'ard when we come down Lamson's Hill." + +She rose ponderously. She seemed to sway and hesitate; then she set one +foot cautiously forward in the pung. There was a rending, crash. The +Widder Poll had stepped into the bass-viol. She gave a little scream; +and plunged forward. + +"My foot's ketched!" she cried. "Can't you help me out?" + +Heman dropped the reins; he put his hands on her arms, and pulled her +forward. He never knew whether she reached the ground on her feet or +her knees. Then he pushed past her, where she floundered, and lifted +out his darling. He carried it into the kitchen, and lighted the +candle, with trembling hands. He drew back the cover. The bass-viol had +its mortal wound; he could have laid both fists into the hole. He +groaned. + +"My God Almighty!" he said aloud. + +The Widder Poll had stumbled into the room. She threw back her green +veil, and her face shone ivory white under its shadow; her small eyes +were starting. She looked like a culprit whom direst vengeance had +overtaken at last. At the sound of her step, Heman lifted his hurt +treasure, carried it tenderly into his bedroom, and shut the door upon +it. He turned about, and walked past her out of the house. The Widder +Poll followed him, wringing her mittened hands. + +"O Heman!" she cried, "don't you look like that! Oh, you'll do yourself +some mischief, I know you will!" + +But Heman had climbed into the pung, and given Old Gameleg a vicious +cut. Swinging out of the yard they went; and the Widder Poll ran after +until, just outside the gate, she reflected that she never could +overtake him and that her ankles were weak; then she returned to the +house, groaning. + +Heman was conscious of one thought only: if any man had come home with +Roxy, he should kill him with his own hands. He drove on, almost to the +vestry, and found no trace of her. He turned about, and, retracing his +way, stopped at her mother's gate, left Old Gameleg, and strode into +the yard. There was no light in the kitchen, and only a glimmer in the +chamber above. Heman went up to the kitchen door and knocked. The +chamber window opened. + +"Who is it?" asked Mrs. Cole. "Why, that you, Heman? Anybody sick?" + +"Where's Roxy?" returned Heman, as if he demanded her at the point of +the bayonet. + +"Why, she's been abed as much as ten minutes. The Tuckers brought her +home." + +"You tell her to come here! I want to see her." + +"What! down there? Law, Heman! you come in the mornin'. She'll ketch +her death o' cold gittin' up an' dressin', now she's got all warmed +through." + +"What's he want, mother?" came Roxy's clear voice from within the room. +"That's Heman Blaisdell's voice." + +"Roxy, you come down here!" called Heman, masterfully. + +There was a pause, during which Mrs. Cole was apparently pulled away +from the window. Then Roxy, her head enveloped in a shawl, appeared in +her mother's place. + +"Well!" she said, impatiently. "What is it?" + +Heman's voice found a pleading level. + +"Roxy, will you marry me?" + +"Why, Heman, you 're perfectly ridiculous! At this time o' night, too!" + +"You answer me!" cried Heman, desperately. "I want you! Won't you have +me, Roxy? Say?" + +"Roxy!" came her mother's muffled voice from the bed. "You'll git your +death o' cold. What's he want? Can't you give him an answer an' let him +go?" + +"Won't you, Roxy?" called Heman. "Oh, won't you?" + +Roxy began to laugh hysterically. "Yes," she said, and shut the window. + +When Heman had put up the horse, he walked into the kitchen, and +straight up to the Widder Poll, who stood awaiting him, clinging to the +table by one fat hand. + +"Now, look here!" he said, good-naturedly, speaking to her with a +direct address he had not been able to use for many a month, "You +listen to me. I don't want any hard feelin', but to-morrer mornin' +you've got to pick up your things an' go. You can have the house down +to the Holler, or you can go out nussin', but you come here by your own +invitation, an' you've got to leave by mine. I'm goin' to be married as +soon as I can git a license." Then he walked to the bedroom, and shut +himself in with his ruined bass-viol and the darkness. + +And the Widder Poll did not speak. + + + * * * * * + +There are very few cosey evenings when Heman and Roxy do not smile at +each other across the glowing circle of their hearth, and ask, the one +or the other, with a perplexity never to be allayed,-- + +"Do you s'pose she tumbled, or did she put her foot through it +a-purpose?" + +But Heman is sure to conclude the discussion with a glowing tribute to +Brad Freeman, his genius and his kindliness. + +"I never shall forgit that o' Brad," he announces. "There wa'n't +another man in the State o' New Hampshire could ha' mended it as he +did. Why, you never'd know there was a brack in it!" + + + + +HEARTSEASE. + + "For as for heartsease, it groweth in a single night." + + +"What be you doin' of, Mis' Lamson?" asked Mrs. Pettis, coming in from +the kitchen, where she had been holding a long conversation with young +Mrs. Lamson on the possibility of doing over sugar-barberry. Mrs. +Pettis was a heavy woman, bent almost double with rheumatism, and she +carried a baggy umbrella for a cane. She was always sighing over the +difficulty of "gittin' round the house," but nevertheless she made more +calls than any one else in the neighborhood. "It kind o' limbered her +up," she said, "to take a walk after she had been bendin' over the +dish-pan." + +Mrs. Lamson looked up with an alert, bright glance. She was a little +creature, and something still girlish lingered in her straight, slender +figure and the poise of her head. "Old Lady Lamson" was over eighty, +and she dressed with due deference to custom; but everything about her +gained, in the wearing, an air of youth. Her aggressively brown front +was rumpled a little, as if it had tried to crimp itself, only to be +detected before the operation was well begun, and the purple ribbons of +her cap flared rakishly aloft. + +"I jest took up a garter," she said, with some apology in her tone. +"Kind o' fiddlin' work, ain't it?" + +"Last time I was here, you was knittin' mittins," continued Mrs. +Pettis, seating herself laboriously on the lounge, and leaning forward +upon the umbrella clutched steadily in two fat hands. "You're dretful +forehanded. I remember I said so then. 'Samwel 'ain't got a mittin, to +his name,' I says, 'nor he won't have 'fore November.'" + +"Well, I guess David's pretty well on't for everything now," answered +Mrs. Lamson, with some pride. "He's got five pair o' new mittins, an' +my little blue chist full o' stockin's. I knit 'em two-an'-two, an' +two-an'-one, an' toed some on 'em off with white, an' some with red, +so's to keep 'em in pairs. But Mary said I better not knit any more, +for fear the moths'd git into 'em, an' so I stopped an' took up this +garter. But _'tis_ dretful fiddlin' work!" + +A brief silence fell upon the two, while the sweet summer scents stole +in at the window,--the breath of the cinnamon rose, of growing, grass +and good brown earth. Mrs. Pettis pondered, looking vacantly before +her, and Old Lady Lamson knit hastily on. Her needles clicked together, +and she turned her work with a jerk in beginning a row. But neither was +oppressed by lack of speech. They understood each other, and no more +thought of "making talk" than of pulling up a seed to learn whether it +had germinated. It was Mrs. Pettis who, after, a natural interval; felt +moved to speak. + +"Mary's master thoughtful of you, ain't she? 'Tain't many sons' wives +would be so tender of, anybody, now is it?" + +Mrs. Lamson looked up sharply, and then, with the same quick movement; +bent her eyes on her work. + +"Mary means to do jest what's right," she answered. "If she don't make +out, it ain't for lack o' tryin'." + +"So I says to Samwel this mornin, 'Old Lady Lamson 'ain't one thing to +concert herself with,' says I, 'but to git dressed an' set by the +winder. When dinner-time comes, she's got nothin' to do but hitch up to +the table; an' she don't have to touch her hand to a dish.' Now ain't +that so, Mis' Lamson?" + +"That's so," agreed Mrs. Lamson, with a little sigh, instantly +suppressed. "It's different from what I thought to myself 'twould be +when Mary come here. ''Tain't in natur' she'll have the feelin' for me +she would for her own,' I says; but I b'lieve she has, an' more too. +When she come for good, I made up my mind I'd put 'Up with everything, +an' say 'twas all in the day's work; but law! I never had to. She an' +David both act as if I was sugar or salt, I dunno which." + +"Don't ye never help 'round, washin'-days?" + +"Law, no! Mary won't hear to 't. She'd ruther have the dishes wait till +everything's on the line; an' if I stir a step to go into the gardin to +pick a 'mess o' beans, or kill a currant worm, she's right arter me. +'Mother, don't you fall!' she says, a dozen 'times a day. 'I dunno what +David'd do to me, if I let anything happen to you.' An' 'David, he's +ketched it, too. One night, 'long towards Thanksgivin' time, I kicked +the soapstone out o' bed, an' he come runnin' up as if he was +bewitched. 'Mother,' says he, 'did you fall? You 'ain't had a stroke, +have ye?'" + +Old Lady Lamson laughed huskily; her black eyes shone, and her cap +ribbons nodded, and danced, but there was an ironical ring to her +merriment. + +"Do tell!" responded Mrs. Pettis, in her ruminating voice. "Well, +things were different when we was young married folks, an' used to do +our own spinnin' an' weavin'." + +"I guess so!" Mrs. Lamson dropped her busy hands in her lap, and leaned +back a moment, in eager retrospect. "Do you recollect that Friday we +spun from four o'clock in the mornin' till six that evenin', because +the men-folks had gone in the ma'sh, an' all we had to do was to stop +an' feed the critters? An' Hiram Peasley come along with tinware, an' +you says, 'If you're a mind to stop at my house, an' throw a colander +an' a long-handled dipper over the fence, under the flowerin'-currant, +an' wait till next time for your pay, I'll take 'em,' says you. 'But I +ain't goin' to leave off spinnin' for anything less 'n Gabriel's +trumpet,' says you. I remember your sayin' that, as if 'twas only +yisterday; an' arter you said it, you kind o' drawed down your face an' +looked scairt. An' I never thought on't ag'in till next Sabbath +evenin', when Jim Bellows rose to speak, an' made some handle about the +Day o' Judgment, an' then I tickled right out." + +"How you do set by them days!" said Mrs. Pettis, striving to keep a +steady face, though her heavy sides were shaking. "I guess you remember +'em better 'n your prayers!" + +"Yes, I laughed out loud, an' you passed me a pep'mint over the pew, +an' looked as if you was goin' to cry. 'Don't,' says you; an' it sort +o' come over me you knew what I was laughin' at. Why, if there ain't +John Freeman stoppin' here,--Mary's sister's brother-in-law, you know. +Lives down to Bell P'int. Guess he's pullin' up to give the news." + +Mrs. Pettis came slowly to her feet, and scanned the farmer, who was +hitching his horse to the fence. When he had gone round to the back +door, she turned, and grasped her umbrella with a firmer hand. + +"Well, I guess 'twon't pay me to set down ag'in," she announced. "I'm +goin' to take it easy on the way home. I dunno but I'll let down the +bars, an' poke a little ways into the north pastur', an' see if I can't +git a mite o' pennyr'yal. I'll be in ag'in to-morrer or next day." + +"So do, so do," returned Mrs. Lamson. + +"'Tain't no use to ask you to come down, I s'pose? You don't git, out +so fur, nowadays." + +"No," said the other, still with that latent touch of sarcasm in her +voice. "If I should fall, there'd be a great hurrah, boys,--'fire on +the mountain, run, boys, run!'" + +Mrs. Pettis toiled out into the road; and Old Lady Lamson, laying her +knitting on the table, bent forward, not to watch her out of sight, but +to make sure whether she really would stop at the north pasture. + +"No, she's goin' by," she said aloud, with evident relief. "No, she +ain't either. I'll be whipped if she ain't lettin' down the bars! +_'Twould_ smell kind o' good, I declare!" + +She was still peering forward, one slender hand on the window-sill, +when Mary, a pretty young woman, with two nervous lines between her +eyes, came hurrying in. + +"Mother," she began, in that unnatural voice which is supposed to allay +excitement in another, "I dunno what I'm goin' to do. Stella's sick." + +"You don't say!" said Old Lady Lamson, turning away from the window. +"What do they think 'tis?" + +"Fever, John says. An' she's so full-blooded it'll be likely to go hard +with her. They want me to go right down, an' David's got to carry me. +John would, but he's gone to be referee in that land case, an' he won't +be back for a day or two. It's a mercy David's just home from town, so +he won't have to change his clo'es right through. Now, mother, if you +should have little 'Liza Tolman come an' stay with you, do you think +anything would happen, s'posin' we left you alone just one night?" + +A little flush rose in the old lady's withered cheek. Her eyes gleamed +brightly through her glasses. + +"Don't you worry one mite about me," she replied, in an even voice. +"You change your dress, an' git off afore it's dark. I shall be all +right." + +"David's harnessin' now," said Mary, beginning to untie her apron. "I +sent John down to the lower barn to call him. But, mother, if anything +should happen to you--" + +"Lord-a-massy! nothin' 's goin' to!" the old lady broke forth, in +momentary impatience. "Don't stan' here talkin'. You better have your +mind on Stella. Fever's a quicker complaint than old age. It al'ays +was, an' al'ays will be." + +"Oh, I know it! I know it!" cried Mary, starting toward the door. +"There ain't a thing for you to do. There's new bread an' preserves on +the dairy-wheel, an' you have 'Liza Tolman pick you up some chips, an' +build the fire for your tea; an' don't you wash the dishes, mother. +Just leave 'em in the sink. An' for mercy sake, take a candle, an' not +meddle with kerosene--" + +"Come, come, ain't you ready?" came David's voice from the door. "I +can't keep the horse stan'in' here till he's all eat up with flies." + +Mary fled to her bedroom, unbuttoning her dress as she ran; and David +came in, bringing an air of outdoor freshness into the little +sitting-room, with his regal height, his broad shoulders, and tanned, +fresh face. + +"Well, mother," he said, putting a hand of clumsy kindliness on her +shoulder, "if anything happens to you while we're gone, I shall wish +we'd let the whole caboodle of 'em die in their tracks. Don't s'pose +anything will, do ye?" + +"Law, no, David!" exclaimed the old lady, looking at him with beaming +pride. "You stan' still an' let me pick that mite o' lint off your arm. +I shall be tickled to death to git rid on ye." + +"Now, mother," counselled Mary, when she came but of the bedroom, +hastily tying her bonnet strings, "you watch the school-children, an' +ask 'Liza Tolman to stay with you, an' if she can't, to get one of the +Daltons; an' tell her we'll give her some Bartlett pears when they're +ripe." + +"Yes, yes, I hear," answered the old lady, rising, and setting back her +chair in its accustomed corner. "Now, do go along, or ye won't be down +to Grapevine Run afore five o'clock." + +She watched them while they drove out of the yard, shading her eyes +with one nervous hand. + +"Mother," called Mary, "don't you stan' there in that wind, with +nothin' on your head!" + +The old lady turned back into the house, and her face was alive with +glee. + +"Wind!" she ejaculated scornfully, and yet with the tolerance of one +too happy for complaint. "Wind! I guess there wouldn't be so much, if +some folks would save their breath to cool their porridge!" + +She did not go back to the sitting-room and her peaceful knitting. She +walked into the pantry, where she gave the shelves a critical survey, +and then, returning to the kitchen, looked about her once more. + +"If it's one day sence I've been down sullar," she said aloud, "it's +two year." She 'was lighting a candle as she spoke. In another moment, +she was taking sprightly steps down the stairs into the darkness below. + +"Now, mother, don't you fall!" she chuckled, midway in the descent; and +it was undeniable that the voice sounded much like Mary's in her +anxious mood. "Now, ain't I a mean creatur' to stan' here laughin' at +'em!" she went on: "Well,' if she don't keep things nice! 'Taters all +sprouted; an' the preserve cupboard never looked better in my day. +Mary's been well brought up,--I'll say that for her." + +Old Lady Lamson must have spent at least half an hour in the cellar, +for when she ascended it was after four o'clock, and the +school-children had passed the house on their way home. She heard their +voices under the elms at the turn of the road. + +"I ain't to blame if I can't ketch 'em," she remarked calmly, as she +blew out her light. "I don't see's anybody could say I was to blame. +An' I couldn't walk up to the Tolmans' to ask 'Liza. I might fall!" + +She set about her preparations for supper. It was a favorite maxim in +the household that the meal should be eaten early, "to get it out of +the way;" and to-night this unaccustomed handmaid had additional +reasons for haste. But the new bread and preserves were ignored. She +built a rousing fire in the little kitchen stove; she brought out the +moulding-board, and with trembling eagerness proceeded to mix +cream-of-tartar biscuits. Not Cellini himself nor Jeannie Carlyle had +awaited the results of passionate labor with a more strenuous +eagerness; and when she drew out the panful of delicately browned +biscuits, she set it down on the table, and looked at it in sheer +delight. + +"I'll be whipped if they ain't as good as if I'd made 'em every night +for the last two year!" she cried. "I ain't got to git my hand in, +an' that's truth an' fact!" + +She brought out some "cold b'iled dish," made her strong green tea, and +sat down to a banquet such as they taste who have reached the +Delectable Mountains. It held within it all the savor of a happy past; +it satisfied her hungry soul. + +After she had washed the supper dishes and scrupulously swept the +hearth, she rested, for a moment's thought, in the old rocking-chair, +and then took her way, candle in hand, to the attic. There was no +further self-confidence on the stairs; she was too serious, now. Her +hours were going fast. The attic, in spite of the open windows, lay hot +under summer's touch upon the shingles outside, and odorous of the +dried herbs hanging in bunches here and there. + +"Wormwood--thoroughwort--spearmint," she mused, as she touched them, +one after another, and inhaled their fragrance. "'Tain't so long ago I +was out pickin' herbs an' dryin' 'em. Well, well, well!" + +She made her way under the eaves, and pulled out a hair-trunk, studded +with brass nails. A rush-bottomed chair stood near-by, and, setting her +candle in it, she knelt before the trunk and began lifting out its +contents: a brocaded satin waistcoat of a long-past day, a woolen +comforter knit in stripes, a man's black broadcloth coat. She smoothed +them, as she laid them by, and there was a wondering note in her +lowered voice. + +"My Lord!" she whispered reverently, as if speaking to One who would +hear and understand, "it's over fifty year!" + +A pile of yellowed linen lay in the bottom of the trunk, redolent of +camphor from contact with its perishable neighbors. She lifted one +shirt after another, looking at them in silence. Then she laid back the +other clothes, took up her candle and the shirts, and went downstairs +again. In hot haste, she rebuilt the kitchen fire, and set two large +kettles of water on the stove. She dragged the washing-bench into the +back kitchen from its corner in the shed, and on it placed her tubs; +and when the water was heated, she put the garments into a tub, and +rubbed with the vigor and ease of a woman well accustomed to such work. +All the sounds of the night were loud about her, and the song of the +whippoorwill came in at the open door. He was very near. His presence +should have been a sign of approaching trouble, but Old Lady Lamson did +not hear him. Her mind was reading the lettered scroll of a vanished +year. + +Perhaps the touch of the warm water on her hands recalled her to the +present. + +"Seems good to feel the suds," she said, happily, holding up one +withered hand, and letting the foam drip from her fingers, "I wish't I +could dry outdoor! But when mornin' come, they'd be all of a sop." + +She washed and rinsed the garments, and, opening a clothes-horse, +spread them out to dry. Then she drew a long breath, put out her +candle, and wandered to the door. The garden lay before her, unreal in +the beauty of moonlight. Every bush seemed an enchanted wood. The old +lady went forth, lingering at first, as one too rich for choosing; then +with a firmer step. She closed the little gate, and walked out into the +country road. She hurried along to the old signboard, and turned aside +unerringly into a hollow, there, where she stooped and filled her hands +with tansy, pulling it up in great bunches, and pressing it eagerly to +her face. + +"Seventy-four year ago!" she told the unseen listener of the night, +with the same wonder in her voice. "Sir laid dead, an' they sent me +down here to pick tansy to put round him. Seventy-four year ago!" + +Still holding it; she rose, and went through the bars into the dewy +lane. Down the wandering path, trodden daily by the cows, she walked, +and came out in the broad pasture, irregular with its little hillocks, +where, as she had been told from her babyhood, the Indians used to +plant their corn. She entered the woods by a cart-path hidden from the +moon, and went on with a light step, gathering a bit of green here and +there,--now hemlock, now a needle from the sticky pine,--and inhaling +its balsam on her hands. A sharp descent, and she had reached the spot +where the brook ran fast, and where lay "Peggy's b'ilin' spring," named +for a great-aunt she had never seen, but whose gold beads she had +inherited, and who had consequently seemed to her a person of opulence +and ease. + +"I wish't I'd brought a cup," she said. "There ain't no such water +within twenty mile." + +She crouched beside the little black pool, where the moon glinted in +mysterious, wavering, symbols to beckon the gaze upward, and, making a +cup of her hand, drank eagerly. There was a sound near-by, as if some +wood creature were stirring; she thought she heard a fox barking in the +distance. Yet she was really conscious only of the wonder of time, the +solemn record of the fleeting years. + +When she made her way back through the woods, the moon was sinking, and +the shadows had grown heavy. As she reached the bars again, on her +homeward track, she stopped suddenly, and her face broke into smiling +at the pungent fragrance rising from the bruised herbage beneath her +feet. She stooped and gathered one telltale, homely weed, mixed as it +was with the pasture grass. "Pennyr'yal," she said happily, and felt +the richness of being. + +When Old Lady Lamson had ironed her shirts and put them away again, all +hot and sweet from the fire, it was five o'clock, and the birds had +long been trying to drag creation up from sleep, to sing with them the +wonders of the dawn. At six, she had her cup of tea, and when, at +eight, her son drove into the yard, she came placidly to the side door +to meet him, her knitting in her hands. + +"Well, if I ain't glad!" called David. "I couldn't git it out o' my +mind somethin' 'd happened to you. Stella's goin' to be all right, they +think, but nothin' will do but Mary must stay a spell. Do you s'pose +you an' I could keep house a week or so, if I do the heft o' the work?" + +Old Lady Lamson's eyes took on the look which sometimes caused her son +to inquire suspiciously, "Mother, what you laughin' at?" + +"I guess we can, if we try hard enough," she said, soberly, rolling up +her yarn. "Now you come in, an' I'll git you a bite o' somethin' +t'eat." + + + + +MIS' WADLEIGH'S GUEST. + + +Cyrus Pendleton sat by the kitchen fire, his stockinged feet, in the +oven, and his; hands stretched out toward the kettles, which were +bubbling prosperously away, and puffing a cloud of steam, into his +face. He was a meagre, sad-colored man, with mutton-chop whiskers so +thin as to lie like a shadow on his fallen cheeks; and his glance, +wherever it fell, Seemed to deprecate reproof. Thick layers of flannel +swathed his throat, and from time to time, he coughed wheezingly, with +the air of one who, having a cold, was determined to be conscientious +about it. A voice from the buttery began pouring forth words only a +little slower than the blackbird sings, and with no more reference to +reply. + +"Cyrus, don't you feel a mite better? Though I dunno how you could, +expect to, arter such a night as you had on't, puffin' an' blowin'!" +Mrs. Pendleton followed the voice. She seemed to be borne briskly in on +its wings, and came scudding over the kitchen sill, carrying a pan of +freshly sifted flour. She set it down on the table, and began "stirrin' +up." "I dunno where you got such a cold, unless it's in the air," she +continued. "Folks say they're round, nowadays, an' you ketch 'em, jest +as you would the mumps. But there! nobody on your side or mine ever had +the mumps, as long as I can remember. Except Elkanah, though! an' he +ketched 'em down to Portsmouth, when he went off on that fool's arrant +arter elwives. Do you s'pose you could eat a mite o' fish for dinner?" + +"I was thinkin'--" interposed Cyrus, mildly; but his wife swept past +him, and took the road. + +"I dunno's there's any use in gittin' a real dinner, jest you an' me, +an' you not workin' either. Folks say there's more danger of eatin' too +much'n too little. Gilman Lane, though, he kep' eatin' less an' less, +an' his stomach dried all up, till 'twa'n't no bigger'n a bladder. Look +here, you! I shouldn't wonder a mite if you'd got some o' them stomach +troubles along with your cold. You 'ain't acted as if you'd relished a +meal o' victuals for nigh onto ten days. Soon as I git my hands out o' +the flour, I'll look in the doctor's book, an' find out. My! how het up +I be!" She wiped her hands on the roller towel, and unpinned the little +plaid shawl drawn tightly across her shoulders, Its removal disclosed a +green sontag, and under that manifold layers of jacket and waist. She +was amply protected from the cold. "I dunno's I ought to ha' stirred up +rye'n' Injun," she went on, returning to her vigorous tossing and +mixing at the table. "Some might say the steam was bad for your lungs. +Anyhow, the doctor's book holds to't you've got to pick out a dry +climate, if you don't want to go into a decline. Le' me see! when your +Aunt Mattie was took, how long was it afore she really gi'n up? Arter +she begun to cough, I mean?" + +Cyrus moved uneasily. + +"I dunno," he said, hastily. "I never kep' the run o' such things." + +But Mirandy, pouring her batter into the pan, heeded him no more than +was her wont. + +"I s'pose that was real gallopin' consumption," she said, with relish." +I must ask Sister Sarah how long 'twas, next time I see her. She set it +down with the births an' deaths." + +Cyrus was moved to some remonstrance. He often felt the necessity of +asserting himself, lest he should presently hear his own passing-bell +and epitaph. + +"I guess you needn't stop steamin' bread for me! I ain't half so +stuffed up as I was yisterday!" + +Mrs. Pendleton clapped the loaf into the pot, wrinkling her face over +the cloud of steam that came puffing into it. + +"There!" she exclaimed. "Now perhaps I can git a minute to se' down. I +ain't bound a shoe to-day. My! who's that out this weather?" + +The side door was pushed open, and then shut with a bang. A vigorous +stamping of snow followed, and the inner door swung in to admit a +woman, very short, very stout, with a round, apple-cheeked face, and +twinkling eyes looking out from the enveloping folds of a gray cloud. + +"Well!" she said, in a cheery voice, beginning at once to unwind the +cloud, "here I be! Didn't think I'd rain down, did ye? I thought +myself, one spell, I should freeze afore I fell!" + +Mrs. Pendleton hurried forward, wiping her hands on her apron as she +went. + +"For the land's sake, Marthy Wadleigh!" she cried, laying hold of the +new-comer by the shoulders, and giving her an ineffectual but wholly +delighted shake. "Well, I never! Who brought you over? Though I dunno +which way you come. I 'ain't looked out--" + +"I walked from the corner," said Mrs. Wadleigh, who never felt any +compunction about interrupting her old neighbor. She was unpinning her +shawl composedly, as one sure of a welcome. "How do, Cyrus? Jim Thomas +took me up jest beyond the depot, an' give me a lift on his sled; but I +was all of a shiver, an' at the corner, I told him he better let me +step down an' walk. So I come the rest o' the way afoot an' alone. You +ain't goin' to use the oven, be ye? I'll jest stick my feet in a +minute. No, Cyrus, don't you move! I'll take t'other side. I guess we +sha'n't come to 'blows over it." + +She seemed to have brought into the kitchen, with that freshness of +outdoor air which the new-comer bears, like a balsam, in his garments, +a breath of fuller life, and even of jollity. As she sat there in her +good brown dress, with her worked collar, fastened by a large cameo, +her gold beads just showing, and her plump hands folded on a capacious +lap, she looked the picture of jovial content, quite able to take care +of herself, and perhaps apply a sturdy shoulder to the lagging +machinery of the world. + +"Didn't you git word I was comin' this week?" she asked. "I sent you a +line." + +"No, we 'ain't been so fur's the post-office," answered Mirandy, +absently. She was debating over her most feasible bill of fare, now +that a "pick-up dinner" seemed no longer possible. Moreover, she had +something on her mind, and she could not help thinking how unfortunate +it was that Cyrus shared her secret. Who could tell at what moment he +might broach it? She doubted his discretion. "The roads wa'n't broke +out till day before yisterday." + +"I shouldn't think they were!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, scornfully, testing +the heat with a hand on her skirt, and then lifting the breadths back +over her quilted petticoat. "I thought that would be the way on't, but +I'd made up my mind to come, an' come I would. Cyrus, what's the matter +o' you? Nothin' more'n a cold, is it?" + +Cyrus had withdrawn from the stove, and was feeling his chin, +uncertainly. + +"Oh, no, I guess not," he said. "We've been kind o' peaked, for a week +or two, all over the neighborhood; but I guess we shall come out on't, +now we've got into the spring. Mirandy, you git me a mite o' hot water, +an' I'll see if I can't shave." + +Mirandy was vigorously washing potatoes at the sink, but she turned, in +ever-ready remonstrance. + +"Shave!" she ejaculated, "Well, I guess you won't shave, such a day as +this, in that cold bedroom, with a stockin'-leg round your throat, an' +all! You want to git your death? Why, 'twas only last night, Marthy, he +had a hemlock sweat, an' all the ginger tea I could git down into him! +An' then I didn't know--" + +"Law! let him alone!" said Marthy, with a comfortable, throaty laugh. +"He'll feel twice as well, git some o' them things off his neck. Here, +Cyrus, you reach me down your mug--ain't them your shavin' things up +there?--an' I'll fill it for you. You git him a piece o' flannel, +Mirandy, to put on when he's washed up an' took all that stuff off his +throat. Why, he's got enough wool round there, if 'twas all in yarn, to +knit Old Tobe a pair o' mittins! An' they say one o' his thumbs was +bigger'n the hand o' Providence. You don't want to try all the goodness +out of him, do ye?" + +Cyrus gave one swift glance at his wife. "There! you see!" it said +plainly. "I am not without defenders." He took down his shaving-mug, +with an air of some bravado. But Mirandy was no shrew; she was simply +troubled about many things. + +"Well," she said, compressing her lips, and wrinkling her forehead in +resignation. "If folks want to kill themselves, I can't hender 'em! But +when he's down ag'in, I shall be the one to take care of him, that's +all. Here, Cyrus, don't you go into that cold bedroom. You shave you +here, if you're determined to do it." + +So Cyrus, after honing his razor, with the pleasure of a bored child +provided at last with occupation, betook himself to the glass set in +the lower part of the clock, and there, with much contortion of his +thin visage, proceeded to shave. Mirandy put her potatoes on to boil, +and set the fish on the stove to freshen; then She sat down by the +window, with a great basket beside her, and began to bind shoes. + +"Here," said Mrs. Wadleigh, coming to her feet and adjusting her skirt, +"you give me a needle! I've got my thimble right here in my pocket. +It's three months sence I've seen a shoe. I should admire to do a pair +or two. I wish I could promise ye more, but somehow I'm bewitched to +git over home right arter dinner!" + +Mrs. Pendleton laid down her work, and leaned back in her chair. Cyrus +turned, cleared his throat, and looked at her. + +"Marthy," said the hostess, "you ain't goin' over there to that +lonesome house, this cold snap?" + +"Ain't I?" asked Mrs. Wadleigh, composedly, as she trimmed the top of +her shoe preparatory to binding it. "Well, you see'f I ain't!" + +"In the fust place," went on Mrs. Pendleton, nervously, "the cross-road +ain't broke out, an' you can't git there. I dunno's a horse could +plough through; an' s'posin' they could, Cyrus ain't no more fit to go +out an' carry you over'n a fly." + +"Don't you worry," said Mrs. Wadleigh, binding off one top. "While I've +got my own legs, I don't mean to be beholden to nobody. I've had a +proper nice time all winter, fust with Lucy an' then with Ann,--an' I +tell ye 'tain't everybody that's got two darters married so well!--but +for the last fortnight, I've been in a real tew to come home. They've +kep' me till I wouldn't stay no longer, an' now I've got so near as +this, I guess I ain't goin' to stop for nobody!" + +Mrs. Pendleton looked despairingly at her husband; and he, absently +wiping his razor on a bit of paper, looked at her. + +"Marthy!" she burst forth. "No, Cyrus, don't you say one word! You +can't go! There's somebody there!" + +Mrs. Wadleigh, in turn, put down her work. + +"Somebody there!" she ejaculated. "Where?" + +"In your house!" + +"In my house? What for?" + +"I dunno," said Mirandy, unhappily. + +"Dunno? Well, what are they doin' there?" + +"I dunno that. We only know there's somebody there." + +Here the brown-bread kettle boiled over, creating a diversion; and +Mirandy gladly rose to set it further back. A slight heat had come into +Mrs. Wadleigh's manner. + +"Cyrus," said she, with emphasis, "I should like to have you speak. I +left that house in your care. I left the key with you, an' I should +like to know who you've been an' got in there." + +Cyrus opened his mouth, and then closed it again without saying a word. +He looked appealingly at his wife; and she took up the tale with some +joy, now that the first plunge had been made. + +"Well," she said, folding her hands in her apron, and beginning to rock +back and forth, a little color coming into her cheeks, and her eyes +snapping vigorously. "You see, this was the way 'twas. Cyrus, do let me +speak!" Cyrus had ineffectually opened his mouth again. "Wa'n't it in +November you went away? I thought so. Jest after that first sprinklin' +o' snow, that looked as if 'twould lay all winter. Well, we took the +key, an' hung it up inside the clock--an' there 'tis now!--an' once a +week, reg'lar as the day come round, Cyrus went over, an' opened the +winders, an' aired out the house." + +Mrs. Wadleigh sat putting her thimble off and on. + +"I know all about that," she interposed, "but who's in there now? +That's what I want to find out." + +"I'm comin' to that. I don't want to git ahead o' my story. An' so't +went on till it come two weeks ago Friday, an' Cyrus went over jest the +same as ever. An' when he hitched to the gate, he see smoke comin' out +o' the chimbly, an' there was a man's face at one square o' glass." She +paused, enjoying her climax. + +"Well? Why don't you go ahead? Mirandy Jane Pendleton, I could shake +you! You can talk fast enough when somebody else wants the floor! How'd +he git in? What'd he say for himself?" + +"Why, he never said anything! Cyrus didn't see him." + +"Didn't see him? I thought he see him lookin' out the winder!" + +"Why, yes! so he did, but he didn't see him to speak to. He jest nailed +up the door, an' come away." + +Mrs. Wadleigh turned squarely upon the delinquent Cyrus, who stood, +half-shaven, absently honing his razor. + +"Cyrus," said she, with an alarming decision, "will you open your head, +an' tell me what you nailed up that door for? an' where you got your +nails? I s'pose you don't carry 'em round with you, ready for any +door't happens to need nailin' up?" + +This fine sarcasm was not lost on Cyrus. He perceived that he had +become the victim of a harsh and ruthless dealing. + +"I had the key to the front door with me, an' I thought I'd jest step +round an' nail up t'other one," he said, in the tone of one conscious +of right. "There was some nails in the wood-shed. Then I heard somebody +steppin' round inside, an' I come away." + +"You come away!" repeated Mrs. Wadleigh, rising in noble wrath. "You +nailed up the' door an' come away! Well, if you! ain't a weak sister! +Mirandy, you hand me down that key, out o' the clock, while I git my +things!" + +She walked sturdily across to the bedroom, and Mirandy followed her, +wringing her hands in futile entreaty. + +"My soul, Marthy! you ain't goin' over there! You'll be killed, as sure +as you step foot into the yard. Don't you remember how that hired man +down to Sudleigh toled the whole fam'ly out into the barn, one arter +another, an' chopped their heads off--" + +"You gi' me t'other end o' my cloud," commanded Mrs. Wadleigh. "I'm +glad I've got on stockin'-feet. Where's t'other mittin? Oh! there +'tis, down by the sto'-leg. Cyrus, if you knew how you looked with your +face plastered over o' lather, you'd wipe it off, an' hand me down that +key. Can't you move? Well, I guess I can reach it myself." + +She dropped the house key carefully into her pocket, and opened the +outer door; both Cyrus and his wife knew they were powerless to stop +her. + +"O Marthy, do come back!" wailed Mrs. Pendleton after her. "You 'ain't +had a mite o' dinner, an' you'll never git out o' that house alive!" + +"I'd rather by half hitch up myself," began Cyrus; but his wife turned +upon him, at the word, bundled him into the kitchen, and shut the door +upon him. Then she went back to her post in the doorway, and peered +after Mrs. Wadleigh's square figure on the dazzling road, with a +melancholy determination to stand by her to the last. Only when it +occurred to her that it was unlucky to watch a departing friend out of +sight, did she shut the door hastily, and go in to reproach Cyrus and +prepare his dinner. + +Mrs. Wadleigh plodded steadily onward. Her face had lost its robustness +of scorn, and expressed only a cheerful determination. Once or twice +her mouth relaxed, in retrospective enjoyment of the scene behind her, +and she gave vent to a scornful ejaculation. + +"A man in my house!" she said once, aloud. "I guess we'll see!" + +She turned into the cross-road, where stood her dear and lonely +dwelling, with no neighbors on either side for half a mile, and stopped +a moment to gaze about her. The road was almost untravelled, and the +snow lay encrusted over the wide fields, sparkling on the heights and +blue in the hollows. The brown bushes by a hidden stone-wall broke the +sheen entrancingly; here and there a dry leaf fluttered, but only +enough to show how still such winter stillness can be, and a flock of +little brown birds rose, with a soft whirr, and settled further on. +Mrs. Wadleigh pressed her lips together in a voiceless content, and her +eyes took on a new brightness. She had lived quite long enough in the +town. Rounding a sweeping bend, and ploughing sturdily along, though it +was difficult here to find the roadway, she kept her eyes fixed on a +patch of sky, over a low elm, where the chimney would first come into +view. But just before it stepped forward to meet her, as she had seen +it a thousand times, a telltale token forestalled it; a delicate blue +haze crept out, in spiral rings, and tinged the sky. + +"He's got a fire!" she exclaimed loudly. "He's there! My soul!" Until +now the enormity of his offence had not penetrated her understanding. +She had heard the fact without realizing it. + +The house was ancient but trimly kept, and it stood within a spacious +yard, now in billows and mounds of snow, under which lay the treasures +inherited by the spring. The trellises on either side the door held the +bare clinging arms of jessamine and rose, and the syringa and lilac +bushes reached hardily above the snow. As Mrs. Wadleigh approached the +door, she gave a rapid glance at the hop-pole in the garden, and +wondered if its vine had stood the winter well. That was the third hop +vine she'd had from Mirandy Pendleton! Mounting the front steps, she +drew forth the key, and put it in the door. It turned readily enough, +but though she gave more than one valiant push, the door itself did not +yield. It was evidently barricaded. + +"My soul!" said Mrs. Wadleigh. + +She stepped back, to survey the possibilities of attack; but at that +instant, glancing up at the window, she had Cyrus Pendleton's own +alarming experience. A head looked out at her, and was quickly +withdrawn. It was dark, unkempt, and the movement was stealthy. + +"That's him!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, grimly, and returning to the charge, +she knocked civilly at the door. No answer. Then she pushed again. It +would not yield. She thought of the ladder in the barn, of the small +cellar-window; vain hopes, both of them! + +"Look here!" she called aloud. "You let me in! I'm the Widder Wadleigh! +This is my own house, an' I'm real tried stan'in' round here, knockin' +at my own front door. You le'me in, or I shall git my death o' cold!" + +No answer; and then Mrs. Wadleigh, as she afterwards explained it, "got +mad." She ploughed her way round the side of the house,--not the side +where she had seen the face, but by the "best-room" windows,--and +stepped softly up to the back door. Cyrus Pendleton's nail was no +longer there. The man had easily pushed it out. She lifted the latch, +and set her shoulder against the panel. + +"If it's the same old button, it'll give," she thought. And it did +give. She walked steadily across the kitchen toward the clock-room, +where the man that moment turned to confront her. He made a little run +forward; then, seeing but one woman, he restrained himself. He was not +over thirty years old; a tall, well-built fellow, with very black eyes +and black hair. His features were good, but just now his mouth was set, +and he looked darkly defiant. Of this, however, Mrs. Wadleigh did not +think, for she was in a hot rage. + +"What under the sun do you mean, lockin' me out o' my own house?" she +cried, stretching out her reddened hands to the fire. "An' potaters +b'iled all over this good kitchen stove! I declare, this room's a real +hog's nest, an' I left it as neat as wax!" + +Perhaps no man was ever more amazed than this invader. He stood staring +at her in silence. + +"Can't you shet the door!" she inquired, fractiously, beginning to +untie her cloud. "An' put a stick o' wood in the stove? If I don't git +het through, I shall ketch my death!" + +He obeyed, seemingly from the inertia of utter surprise. Midway in the +act of lifting the stove-cover, he glanced at her in sharp, suspicion. + +"Where's the rest?" he asked, savagely. "You ain't alone?" + +"Well, I guess I'm alone!" returned Mrs. Wadleigh, drawing off her icy +stocking-feet, "an' walked all the way from Cyrus Pendleton's! There +ain't nobody likely to be round," she continued, with grim humor. "I +never knew 'twas such a God-forsaken hole, till I'd been away an' come +back to 't. No, you needn't be scairt! The road ain't broke out, an' if +'twas, we shouldn't have no callers to-day. It's got round there's a +man here, an' I'll warrant the selec'men are all sick abed with colds. +But there!" she added, presently, as the soothing warmth of her own +kitchen stove began to penetrate, "I dunno's I oughter call it a +Godforsaken place. I'm kind o' glad to git back." + +There was silence for a few minutes, while she toasted her feet, and +the man stood shambling from one foot to the other and furtively +watching her and the road. Suddenly she rose, and lifted a pot-cover. + +"What you got for dinner?" she inquired, genially. "I'm as holler's a +horn!" + +"I put some potatoes on," said he, gruffly. + +"Got any pork? or have you used it all up?" + +"I guess there's pork! I 'ain't touched it. I 'ain't eat anything but +potatoes; an' I've chopped wood for them, an' for what I burnt." + +"Do tell!" said Mrs. Wadleigh. She set the potatoes forward, where they +would boil more vigorously. "Well, you go down sullar an' bring me up a +little piece o' pork--streak o' fat an' streak o' lean--an' I'll fry +it. I'll sweep up here a mite while you're gone. Why, I never see such +a lookin' kitchen! What's your name?" she called after him, as he set +his foot on the Upper stair. + +He hesitated. "Joe!" he said, falteringly. + +"All right, then, Joe, you fly round an' git the pork!" She took down +the broom from its accustomed nail, and began sweeping joyously; the +man, fishing in the pork-barrel, listened meanwhile to the regular +sound above. Once it stopped, and he held his breath for a moment, and +stood at bay, ready to dash up the stairs and past his pursuers, had +she let them in. But it was only her own step, approaching the cellar +door. + +"Joe!" she called. "You bring up a dozen apples, Bald'ins. I'll fry +them, too." + +Something past one o'clock, they sat down together to as strange a meal +as the little kitchen had ever seen. Bread and butter were lacking, but +there was quince preserve, drawn from some hidden hoard, the apples and +pork, and smoking tea. Mrs. Wadleigh's spirits rose. Home was even +better than her dreams had pictured it. She told her strange guest all +about her darter Lucy and her darter Ann's children; and he listened, +quite dazed and utterly speechless. + +"There!" she said at last, rising, "I dunno's I ever eat such a meal +o' victuals in my life, but I guess it's better'n many a poor soldier +used to have. Now, if you've got some wood to chop, you go an' do it, +an' I'll clear up this kitchen; it's a real hurrah's nest, if ever +there was one!" + +All that afternoon, the stranger chopped wood, pausing, from time to +time, to look from the shed door down the country road; and Mrs. +Wadleigh, singing "Fly like a Youthful," "But O! their end, their +dreadful end," and like melodies which had prevailed when she "set in +the seats," flew round, indeed, and set the kitchen in immaculate +order. Evidently her guest had seldom left that room. He had slept +there on the lounge. He had eaten his potatoes there, and smoked his +pipe. + +When the early dusk set in, and Mrs. Wadleigh had cleared away their +supper of baked potatoes and salt fish, again with libations of quince, +she drew up before the shining stove, and put her feet on the hearth. + +"Here!" she called to the man, who was sitting uncomfortably on one +corner of the woodbox, and eying her with the same embarrassed +watchfulness. "You draw up, too! It's the best time o' the day now, +'tween sunset an' dark." + +"I guess I'd better be goin'," he returned, doggedly. + +"Goin'? Where?" + +"I don't know. But I'm goin'." + +"Now look here," said Mrs. Wadleigh, with rigor. "You take that chair, +an' draw up to the fire. You do as I tell you!" + +He did it. + +"Now, I can't hender your goin', but if you do go, I've got a word to +say to you." + +"You needn't say it! I don't want nobody's advice." + +"Well, you've got to have it jest the same! When you bile potaters, +don't you let 'em run over onto the stove. Now you remember! I've had +to let the fire go down here, an' scrub till I could ha' cried. Don't +you never do such a thing ag'in, wherever you be!" + +He could only look at her. This sort of woman was entirely new to his +experience. + +"But I've got somethin' else to say," she continued, adjusting her feet +more comfortably. "I ain't goin' to turn anybody out into the snow, +such a night as this. You're welcome to stay, but I want to know what +brought ye here. I ain't one o' them that meddles an' makes, an' if you +'ain't done nothin' out o' the way, an' I ain't called on for a +witness, you needn't be afraid o' my tellin'." + +"You will be called on!" he broke in, speaking from a desperation +outside his own control. "It's murder! I've killed a man!" He turned +upon her with a savage challenge in the motion; but her face was set, +placidly forward, and the growing dusk had veiled its meaning. + +"Well!" she remarked, at length, "ain't you ashamed to set there +talkin' about it! You must have brass enough to line a kittle! Why +'ain't you been, like a man, an' gi'n yourself up, instid o' livin' +here, turnin' my kitchen upside down? Now you tell me all about it! +It'll do ye good." + +"I'm goin'," said the man, breathing hard as he spoke, "I'm goin' away +from here tonight. They never'll take me alive. It was this way. There +was a man over where I lived that's most drunk himself under ground, +but he ain't too fur gone to do mischief. He told a lie about me, an' +lost me my place in the shoe shop. Then one night, I met him goin' +home, an' we had words. I struck him. He fell like an ox. I killed him. +I didn't go home no more. I didn't even see my wife. I couldn't tell +her. I couldn't be took _there_. So I run away. An' when I got starved +out, an' my feet were most froze walkin', I see this house, all shet +up, an' I come here." + +He paused; and the silence was broken only by the slow, cosey ticking +of the liberated clock. + +"Well!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, at last, in a ruminating tone. "Well! well! +Be you a drinkin' man?" + +"I never was till I lost my job," he answered, sullenly. "I had a +little then. I had a little the night he sassed me." + +"Well! well!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, again. And then she continued, +musingly: "So I s'pose you're Joe Mellen, an' the man you struck was +Solomon Ray?" + +He came to his feet with a spring. + +"How'd you know?" he shouted. + +"Law! I've been visitin' over Hillside way!" said Mrs. Wadleigh, +comfortably. "You couldn't ha' been very smart not to thought o' that +when I mentioned my darter Lucy, an' where the childern went to school. +No smarter'n you was to depend on that old wooden button! I know all +about that drunken scrape. But the queerest part on't was--Solomon Ray +didn't die!" + +"Didn't die!" the words halted, and he dragged them forth. "Didn't +die?" + +"Law, no! you can't kill a Ray! They brought him to, an' fixed him up +in good shape. I guess you mellered him some, but he's more scairt than +hurt. He won't prosecute. You needn't be afraid. He said he dared you +to it. There, there now! I wouldn't. My sake alive! le' me git a +light!" + +For the stranger sat with his head bowed on the table, and he trembled +like a child. + +Next morning at eight o'clock, Mrs. Wadleigh was standing at the door, +in the sparkling light, giving her last motherly injunction to the +departing guest. + +"You know where the depot is? An' it's the nine o'clock train you've +got to take. An' you remember what I said about hayin' time. If you +don't have no work by the middle o' May, you drop me a line, an' +perhaps I can take you an' your wife, too; Lucy's childern al'ays make +a sight o' work. You keep that bill safe, an'--Here, wait a minute! You +might stop at Cyrus Pendleton's--it's the fust house arter you pass; +the corner--an' ask 'em to put a sparerib an' a pat o' butter into the +sleigh, an' ride over here to dinner. You tell 'em I'm as much obleeged +to 'em for sendin' over last night to see if I was alive, as if I +hadn't been so dead with sleep I couldn't say so. Good-bye! Now, you +mind you keep tight hold o' that bill, an', spend it prudent!" + +"Is Kelup Rivers comin' over here to-night?" suddenly asked Aunt +Melissa Adams, peering over her gold-bowed glasses, and fixing her +small shrewd eyes sharply upon her niece. + +Amanda did not look up from her fine hemming, but her thin hand +trembled almost imperceptibly, and she gave a little start, as if such +attacks were not altogether unexpected. + +"I don't know," she answered, in a low tone. + +"Dunno! why don't ye know?" said her aunt, beginning to sway back and +forth in the old-fashioned rocking-chair, but not once dropping her +eyes from Amanda's face. "Don't he come every Saturday night?" + +Amanda took another length, of thread, and this time her hand really +shook. + +"I guess so," she answered. + +"You guess so? Don't ye know? An' if he's come every Saturday night for +fifteen year, ain't he comin' to-night? I dunno what makes you act as +if you wa'n't sure whether your soul's your own, 'Mandy Green. My +dander al'ays rises when I ask you a civil question an' you put on that +look." + +Amanda bent more closely over her sewing. She was a woman of +thirty-five, with a pathetically slender figure, thin blond hair +painstakingly crimped, and anxious blue eyes. Something deprecating lay +in her expression; her days had been uncomplainingly sacrificed to the +comfort of those she loved, and the desire of peace and good-will had +crept into her face and stayed there. Her mother, who looked even +slighter than she, and whose cheeks were puckered by wrinkles, sat by +the window watching the two with a smile of empty content. Old Lady +Green had lost her mind, said the neighbors; but she was sufficiently +like her former self to be a source of unspeakable joy and comfort to +Amanda, who nursed and petted her as if their positions were reversed, +and protected her from the blunt criticism of the literal-tongued +neighborhood with a reverential awe belonging to the old days when the +fifth commandment was written and obeyed. + +"Gold-bowed," said Mrs. Green, with a look of unalloyed delight, +pointing to her sister-in-law's spectacles; and Aunt Melissa repeated +indulgently,-- + +"Yes, yes, gold-bowed. I'll let you take 'em a spell, arter I've set my +heel. It'll please her, poor creatur'!" she added, in an audible aside +to Amanda. Since the time when Mrs. Green's wits had ceased to work +normally, she had treated her sympathetically, but from a lofty +eminence. Aunt Melissa was perhaps too prosperous. She sat there, +swaying back and forth, in her thin black silk trimmed with narrow rows +of velvet, her heavy chin sunk upon a broad collar, worked in her +youth, and she seemed to Mrs. Green a vision of majesty and delight, +but to Amanda a virtuous censor, necessarily to be obeyed, yet whose +presence made the summer day intolerable. Even her purple cap-ribbons +bespoke terror to the evil-doer, and her heavy face was set, as a +judgment, toward the doom of the man who knew not how to account for +his actions. She began speaking again, and Amanda involuntarily gave a +little start, as at a lightning flash. + +"I says to myself when I drove off, this mornin': 'I'll have a little +talk with 'Mandy. I don' go there to spend a day more'n four times a +year, an' like as not she'll be glad to have somebody to speak to, +seen' 's her mother's how she is.'" + +Amanda gave a quick look at Mrs. Green; but the old lady was busily +pleating the hem of her apron and then smoothing it out again. Aunt +Melissa rocked, and went on:-- + +"I says to myself: 'Here they let Kelup carry on the farm at the +halves, an' go racin' an' trottin' from the other place over here day +in an' day out. An' when his Uncle Nat died, two year ago, then was the +time for him to come over here an' marry 'Mandy an' carry on the farm. +But no, he'd rather hang round the old place, an' sleep in the +ell-chamber, an' do their chores for his board, an' keep on a-runnin' +over here.' An' when young Nat married, I says to myself, 'That'll make +him speak.' But it didn't--an' you 're a laughin'-stock, 'Mandy Green, +if ever there was one. Every time the neighbors see him steppin' by +Saturday nights, all fixed up, with that brown coat on he's had sence +the year one, they have suthin' to say, 'Goin' over to 'Mandy's,' +that's what they say. An' on'y last Saturday one on 'em hollered out to +me, when I was pickin' a mess o' pease for Sunday, 'Wonder what +'Mandy'll answer when he gits round to askin' of her?' I hadn't a word +to say. 'You better go to _him_,' says I, at last." + +Amanda had put down her sewing in her lap, and was looking steadfastly +out of the window, with eyes brimmed by two angry tears. Once she wiped +them with a furtive movement of the white garment in her lap; her +cheeks were crimson. Aunt Melissa had lashed herself into a cumulative +passion of words. + +"An' I says to myself, 'If there ain't nobody else to speak to 'Mandy, +I will,' I says, when I was combin' my hair this mornin'. 'She 'ain't +got no mother,' I says, 'nor as good as none, an' if she 'ain't spunk +enough to look out for herself, somebody's got to look out for her.' +An' then it all come over me--I'd speak to Kelup himself, an' bein' +Saturday night, I knew I should ketch him here." + +"O Aunt Melissa!" gasped Amanda, "you wouldn't do that!" + +"Yes, I would, too!" asserted Aunt Melissa, setting her firm lips. "You +see if I don't, an' afore another night goes over my head!" + +But while Amanda was looking at her, paralyzed with the certainty that +no mortal aid could save her from this dire extremity, there came an +unexpected diversion. Old Lady Green spoke out clearly and decidedly +from her corner, in so rational a voice that it seemed like one calling +from the dead. + +"'Mandy, what be you cryin' for? You come here an' tell me what 'tis, +an' I'll see to't. You'll spile your eyes, 'Mandy, if you take on so." + +"There, there, ma'am! 'tain't anything," said Amanda, hurrying over to +her chair and patting her on the shoulder. "We was just havin' a little +spat,--Aunt Melissa an' me; but we've got all over it. Don't you want +to knit on your garter a little while now?" + +But the old lady kept her glazed eyes fixed on Amanda's face. + +"Be you well to-day, 'Mandy?" she said, wistfully. "If you ain't well, +you must take suthin'." + +"There, there! don't you make a to-do, an' she'll come round all +right," said Aunt Melissa, moving her chair about so that it faced the +old lady. "I'll tell her suthin' to take up her mind a little." And she +continued, in the loud voice which was her concession to Mrs. Green's +feebleness of intellect, "They've got a boarder over to the +Blaisdells'." + +Mrs. Green sat up straight in her chair, smoothed her apron, and looked +at her sister with grateful appreciation. + +"Do tell!" she said, primly. + +"Yes, they have. Name's Chapman. They thought he was a book agent fust. +But he's buyin' up old dishes an' all matter o' truck. He wanted my +andirons, an' I told him if I hadn't got a son in a Boston store, he +might ha' come round me, but I know the vally o' things now. You don't +want to sell them blue coverlids o' yourn, do ye?" + +Aunt Melissa sometimes asked the old lady questions from a sense of the +requirements of conversation, and she was invariably startled when they +elicited an answer. + +"Them coverlids I wove myself, fifty-five years ago come next spring," +said Mrs. Green, firmly. "Sally Ann Mason an' me used to set up till +the clock struck twelve that year, spinnin' an' weavin'. Then we had a +cup or two o' green tea, an' went to bed." + +"Well, you wove 'em, an' you don't want to sell 'em," said Aunt +Melissa, her eyes on her work. "If you do, 'Lijah he'll take 'em right +up to Boston for you, an' I warrant he'll git you a new white spread +for every one on 'em." + +"That was the year afore I was married," continued Old Lady Green. "I +had a set o' white chiny with lavender sprigs, an' my dress was +changeable. He had a flowered weskit. 'Mandy, you go into the +clo'es-press in my bedroom an' git out that weskit, an' some o' them +quilts, an' my M's an' O's table-cloths." + +Amanda rose and hurried into the bedroom, in spite of Aunt Melissa's +whispered comment: "What makes you go to overhaulin' things? She'll +forgit it in a minute." + +While she was absent, a smart wagon drove up to the gate, and a young +man alighted from it, hitched his horse, and knocked at the front door. +Aunt Melissa saw him coming, and peered at him over her glasses with an +unrecognizing stare. + +"'Mandy!" she called, "'Mandy, here's a pedler or suthin'! If he's got +any essences, you ask him for a little bottle o' pep'mint." + +Amanda dropped the pile of coverlets on the sofa, and went to the front +door. Presently she reappeared, and with her, smoothly talking her +down, came the young man. His eyes lighted first on the coverlets, with +a look of cheerful satisfaction. + +"Got all ready for me, didn't you?" he asked, briskly. "Heard I was +coming, I guess." + +He was a man of an alert Yankee type, with waxed blond mustache and +eye-glasses; he was evidently to be classed among those who have +exchanged their country honesty for a veneer of city knowingness. + +"For the land's sake!" ejaculated Aunt Melissa, as soon as she had him +at short range, "you're the one down to Blaisdell's that's buyin' up +all the old truck in the neighborhood. Well, you won't git my +andirons!" + +He had begun to unfold the blue coverlets and examine them with a +practised eye, while Amanda stood by, painfully conscious that some +decisive action might be required of her; and her mother sat watching +the triumph of her quilts in pleased importance. + +"They ain't worth much," he said, dropping them, with a conclusive air. +"Fact is, they ain't worth anything, unless any body's got a fancy for +such old stuff. I'll tell you what, I'll give you fifty cents apiece +for the lot! How many are there here--four? Two dollars, then." + +Amanda took a hasty step forward. + +"But we don't want to sell our coverlids!" she said, indignantly, +casting an appealing glance at Aunt Melissa. + +"I guess they don't want to git rid on 'em," said that lady, +"'specially at such a price. They're wuth more 'n that to cover up the +squashes when the frost comes." + +"Mother wove 'em herself," exclaimed Amanda, irrelevantly. It began to +seem to her as if the invader might pack up her mother's treasures and +walk off with them. + +"Well, then, I s'pose they're hers to do as she likes with?" he said, +pleasantly, tipping back, in his chair, and beginning to pare his nails +with an air of nicety that fascinated Amanda into watching him. +"They're hers, I s'pose?" he continued, looking suddenly and keenly up +at her. + +"Why, yes," she answered, "they're mother's, but she don't want to +sell. She sets by 'em." + +"Just like me, for all the world," owned the stranger, "Now there's +plenty of folks that wouldn't care a Hannah Cook about such old truck, +but it just hits me in the right spot. Mother's doughnuts, mother's +mince-pies, I say! Can't improve on _them_! And when my wife and I +bought our little place, I said to her, 'We'll have it all furnished +with old-fashioned goods.' And here I am, taking, time away from my +business, riding round the country, and paying good money for what's no +use to anybody but me." + +"What is your business?" interrupted Aunt Melissa. + +"Oh, insurance--a little of everything--Jack-of-all-trades!" Then he +turned to Old Mrs. Green, and asked, abruptly, "What'll you take for +that clock?" + +The old lady followed his alert forefinger until her eyes rested on the +tall eight-day clock in the corner. She straightened herself in her +chair, and spoke with pride:-- + +"That was Jonathan's gre't-uncle Samwell's. He wound it every Sunday +night, reg'lar as the day come round. I've rubbed that case up till I +sweat like rain. 'Mandy she rubs it now." + +"Well, what'll you take?" persisted he, while Amanda, in wordless +protest, stepped in front of the clock. "Five dollars?" + +"Five dollars," repeated the old lady, lapsing into senseless +iteration. "Yes, five dollars." + +But Aunt Melissa came to the rescue. + +"Five dollars for that clock?" she repeated, winding her ball, and +running the needles into it with a conclusive stab. "Well, I guess +there ain't any eight-day clocks goin' out o' _this_ house for five +dollars, if they go at all! 'Mandy, why don't you speak up, an' not +stand there like a chicken with the pip?" + +"Oh, all right, all right!" said the visitor, shutting his knife with a +snap, and getting briskly on his feet. "I don't care much about buying. +That ain't a particularly good style of clock, anyway. But I like old +things. I may drop in again, just to take a look at 'em. I suppose +you're always at home?" he said to Amanda, with his hand on the door. + +"Yes; but sometimes I go to Sudleigh with butter. I go Monday +afternoons most always, after washin'." + +With a cheerful good-day he was gone, and Amanda drew a long breath of +relief. + +"Well, some folks have got enough brass to line a kittle," said Aunt +Melissa, carefully folding her knitting-work in a large silk +handkerchief. "'Mandy, you'll have to git supper a little earlier'n +common for me. I told Hiram to come by half arter six. Do you s'pose +Kelup'll be round by that time? I'll wait all night afore I'll give up +seein' him." + +"I don't know, Aunt Melissa," said Amanda, nervously clearing the table +of its pile of snowy cloth, and taking a flying glance from the window. +She looked like a harassed animal, hunted beyond its endurance; but +suddenly a strange light of determination flashed into her face. +"Should you just as lieves set the table," she asked, in a tone of +guilty consciousness, "while I start the kitchen fire? You know where +things are." Hardly waiting for an assent, she fled from the room, and +once in the kitchen, laid the fire in haste, with a glance from the +window to accompany every movement. Presently, by a little path through +the field, came a stocky man in blue overalls and the upper garment +known as a jumper. He was bound for the pigpen in the rear of the barn; +and there Amanda flew to meet him, stopping only to throw an apron over +her head. They met at the door. He was a fresh-colored man, with honest +brown eyes and a ring of whiskers under the chin. He had a way of +blushing, and when Amanda came upon him thus unannounced, he colored to +the eyes. + +"Why, you're all out o' breath!" he said, in slow alarms. + +"O Caleb!" she cried, looking at him with imploring eyes. "I'll feed +the pigs to-night." + +Caleb regarded her in dull wonderment. Then he set down the pail he had +taken. + +"Ain't there any taters to bile?" he asked, solving the difficulty in +his own way; "or 'ain't you skimmed the milk? I'd jest as soon wait." + +"You better not wait," answered Amanda, almost passionately, her thin +hair blowing about her temples. "You better go right back. I'd ruther +do it myself; I'd a good deal ruther." + +Caleb turned about. He took a few steps, then stopped, and called +hesitatingly over his shoulder, "I thought maybe I'd come an' set a +spell to-night." + +Then, indeed, Amanda felt her resolution, crack and quiver. "I guess +you better come some other night," she said, in a steady voice, though +her face was wet with tears. And Caleb walked away, never once looking +back. Amanda stayed only to wipe her eyes, saying meanwhile to her +sorry self, "Oh, I dunno how I can get along! I dunno!" Then she +hurried back to the house, to find the kettle merrily singing, and Aunt +Melissa standing at the kitchen cupboard, looking critically up and +down the shelves. + +"If you've got two sets o' them little gem-pans, you might lend me +one," she remarked; and Amanda agreed, not knowing what she gave. + +The supper was eaten and the dishes were washed, Aunt Melissa meantime +keeping a strict watch from the window. + +"Is it time for Kelup?" she asked, again and again; and finally she +confronted the guilty Amanda with the challenge, "Do you think Kelup +ain't comin'?" + +"I--guess not," quavered Amanda, her cheeks scarlet, and her small, +pathetic hands trembling. She was not more used to _finesse_ than to +heroic action. + +"Do you s'pose there's any on 'em sick down to young Nat's?" asked Aunt +Melissa; and Amanda was obliged to take recourse again to her shielding +"I guess not." But at length Uncle Hiram drove up in the comfortable +carry-all; and though his determined spouse detained him more than +three-quarters of an hour, sitting beside him like a portly +Rhadamanthus, and scanning the horizon for the Caleb who never came, he +finally rebelled, shook the reins, and drove off, Aunt Melissa meantime +screaming over her shoulder certain vigorous declarations, which +evidently began with the phrase, "You tell Kelup--" + +Then Amanda went into the house, and sat down by the window in the +gathering dusk, surveying the wreckage of her dream. The dream was even +more precious in that it had grown so old. Caleb was a part of her +every-day life, and for fifteen years Saturday had brought a little +festival, wherein the commonplace man with brown eyes had been +high-priest. He would not come to-night. Perhaps he never would come +again. She knew what it was to feel widowed. + +Sunday passed; and though Caleb fed the pigs and did the barn-work as +usual, he spoke but briefly. Even in his customary salutation of "How +dee?" Amanda detected a change of tone, and thereafter took flight +whenever she heard his step at the kitchen door. So Monday forenoon +passed; Caleb brought water for her tubs and put out her clothes-line, +but they had hardly spoken. The intangible monster of a +misunderstanding had crept between them. But when at noon he asked as +usual, though without looking at her, "Goin' to Sudleigh with the +butter to-day?" Amanda had reached the limit of her endurance. It +seemed to her that she could no longer bear this formal travesty of +their old relations, and she answered in haste,-- + +"No, I guess not." + +"Then you don't want I should set with your mother?" + +"No!" And again Caleb turned away, and plodded soberly off to young +Nat's. + +"I guess I must be crazy," groaned poor Amanda, as she changed her +washing-dress for her brown cashmere. "The butter's got to go, an' now +I shall have to harness, an' leave ma'am alone. Oh, I wish Aunt +Melissa'd never darkened these doors!" + +Everything went wrong with Amanda, that day. The old horse objected to +the bits, and occupied twenty minutes in exasperating protest; the +wheels had to be greased, and she lost a butter-napkin in the well. +Finally, breathless with exertion, she went in to bid her mother +good-by, and see that the matches were hidden and the cellar door +fastened. + +"Now, ma'am," she said, standing over the little old woman and speaking +with great distinctness, "don't you touch the stove, will you? You jest +set right here in your chair till I come back, an' I'll bring you a +good parcel o' pep'-mints. Here's your garter to knit on, an' here's +the almanac. Don't you stir now till I come." + +And so, with many misgivings, she drove away. + +When, Amanda came back, she did not stay to unharness, but hurried up +to the kitchen door, and called, "You all right, ma'am?" There was no +answer, and she stepped hastily across the floor. As she opened the +sitting-room door, a low moaning struck her ear. The old lady sat +huddled together in, her chair, groaning at intervals, and looking +fixedly at the corner of the room. + +"O ma'am, what is it? Where be you hurt?" cried Amanda, possessed by an +anguish of self-reproach. But the old lady only continued her moaning; +and then it was that Amanda noticed her shrivelled and shaking fingers +tightly clasped upon a roll of money in her lap. + +"Why, ma'am, what you got?" she cried; but even as she spoke, the +explanation flashed upon her, and she looked up at the corner of the +room. The eight-day clock was gone. + +"Here, ma'am, you let me have it," she said, soothingly; and by dint of +further coaxing, she pulled the money from the old lady's tense +fingers. There were nine dollars in crisp new bills. Amanda sat looking +at them in unbelief and misery. + +"O my!" she whispered, at length, "what a world this is! Ma'am, did you +tell him he might have 'em?" + +"I dunno what Jonathan'll do without that clock," moaned the old lady. +"I see it carried off myself." + +"Did you tell him he might?" cried Amanda, loudly. + +"I dunno but I did, but I never'd ha' thought he'd ha' done it. I dunno +what time 'tis now;" and she continued her low-voiced lamenting. + +"O my Lord!" uttered Amanda, under her breath. Then she roused herself +to the present exigency of comfort. "You come an' set in the kitchen a +spell," she said, coaxingly, "an' I'll go an' get the things back." + +Old Lady Green looked at her with that unquestioning trust which was +the most pathetic accompaniment of her state. "You'll git 'em back, +'Mandy, won't ye?" she repeated, smiling a little and wiping her eyes. +"That's a good gal! So't we can tell what time 'tis." + +Amanda led her into the kitchen, and established her by the window. She +shut the door of the denuded sitting-room, and, giving her courage no +time to cool, ran across lots to the Blaisdells', the hated money +clasped tightly in her hand. The family was at supper, and the stranger +with them, when she walked in at the kitchen door. She hurried up to +her enemy, and laid the little roll of bills by his plate. Her cheeks +were scarlet, her thin hair-flying. + +"Here's your money," she said, in a strained, high voice, "an' I want +our things. You hadn't ought to gone over there an' talked over an old +lady that--that--" + +There she stopped. Amanda had never yet acknowledged that her mother +was not in her "perfect mind." Chapman took out a long pocket-book, and +for a moment her courage stood at flood-tide; she thought he was about +to accept the money and put it away. But no! He produced a slip of +white paper and held it up before her. She bent forward and examined +it,--a receipt signed by her mother's shaking hand. + +"But it ain't right!" she cried, helpless in her dismay. "Cap'n Jabez, +you speak to him! You know how 'tis about mother! She wouldn't any more +ha' sold that clock than she'd ha' sold--me!" + +Captain Jabez looked at his plate in uncomfortable silence. He was a +just man, but he hated to interfere. + +"Well, there!" he said, at length, pushing his chair back to leave the +table. "It don't seem jestly right to me, but then he's got the resate, +an' your mother signed it--an' there 'tis!" + +"An' you won't do anything?" cried Amanda, passionately, turning back +to the stranger. "You mean to keep them things?" + +He was honestly sorry for her, as the business man for the +sentimentalist, but he had made a good bargain, and he held it sacred. + +"I declare, I wish it hadn't happened so," he said, good-naturedly. +"But the old lady'll get over it. You buy her a nice bright little +nickel clock that'll strike the half-hours, and she'll be tickled to +death to watch it." + +Amanda turned away and walked out of the house. + +"Here," called Chapman, "come back and get your money!" But she hurried +on. "Well, I'll leave it with Captain Jabez," he called again, "and you +can come over and get it. I'm going in the morning, early." + +Amanda was passing the barn, and there, through the open door, she saw +the old clock pathetically loaded on the light wagon, protected by +burlap, and tied with ropes. The coverlets lay beside it. A sob rose in +her throat, but her eyes were dry, and she hurried across lots home. At +the back door she found Caleb unharnessing the horse. She had forgotten +their misunderstanding in the present practical emergency. + +"O Caleb," she began, before she had reached him, "ma'am's sold the +clock an' some coverlids, an' I can't get 'em back!" + +"Cap'n Jabez said she had, this arternoon," said Caleb, slowly, tying a +trace. "I dunno's the old lady's to blame. Seem's if she hadn't ought +to be left alone." + +"But how'm I goin' to get 'em back?" persisted Amanda, coming close to +him, her poor little face pinched and eager. "He jest showed me the +receipt, all signed. How'm I goin' to get the things, Caleb?" + +"If he's got the receipt, an' the things an' all, an' she took the +money, I dunno's you can get 'em," said Caleb, "unless you could prove +in a court o' law that she wa'n't in her right mind. I dunno how that +would work." + +Amanda stood looking him in the face. For the first time in all her +gentle life she was questioning masculine superiority, and its present +embodiment in Caleb Rivers. + +"Then you don't see's anything can be done?" she asked, steadily. + +"Why, no," answered Caleb, still reflecting. "Not unless you should go +to law." + +"You'd better give the pigs some shorts," said Amanda, abruptly. "I +sha'n't bile any taters, to-night." + +She walked into the house; and as Caleb watched her, it crossed his +mind that she looked very tall. He had always thought of her as a +little body. + +Amanda set her lips, and went about her work. From time to time, she +smiled mechanically at her mother; and the old lady, forgetful of her +grief now that she was no longer reproached by the empty space on, the +wall, sat content and sleepy after her emotion. She was willing to go +to bed early; and when Amanda heard her breathing peacefully, she sat +down by the kitchen window to wait. The dusk came slowly, and the +whippoorwill sang from the deep woods behind the house. + +That night at ten o'clock, Caleb Rivers was walking stolidly along the +country road, when his ear became aware of a strangely familiar +sound,--a steadily recurrent creak. It was advancing, though +intermittently. Sometimes it ceased altogether, as if the machinery +stopped to rest, and again it began fast and shrill. He rounded a bend +of the road, and came full upon a remarkable vision. Approaching him +was a wheelbarrow, with a long object balanced across it, and, wheeling +it, walked a woman. Caleb was nearly opposite her before his brain +translated the scene. Then he stopped short and opened his lips. + +"'Mandy," he cried, "what under the heavens be you a-doin'?" + +But Amanda did not pause. Whatever emotion the meeting caused in her +was swiftly vanquished, and she wheeled on. Caleb turned and walked by +her side. When he had recovered sufficiently from his surprise, he laid +a hand upon her wrist. + +"You set it down, an' let me wheel a spell," he said. + +But Amanda's small hands only grasped the handles more tightly, and she +went on. Caleb had never in his life seen a necessity for passionate +remonstrance, but now the moment had come. + +"'Mandy," he kept repeating, at every step, "you give me holt o' them +handles! Why, 'Mandy, I should think you was crazy!" + +At length, Amanda dropped the handles with a jerk, and turning about, +sat down on the edge of the wheelbarrow, evidently to keep the right of +possession. Then she began to speak in a high, strained voice, that +echoed sharply through the country stillness. + +"If you've got to know, I'll tell you, an' you can be a witness, if you +want to. It won't do no hurt in a court o' law, because I shall tell +myself. I've gone an' got our clock an' our coverlids from where they +were stored in the Blaisdells' barn. The man's got his money, an' I've +took our things. That's all I've done, an' anybody can know it that's a +mind to." + +Then she rose, lifted the handles, and went on, panting. Caleb walked +by her side. + +"But you ain't afraid o' me, 'Mandy?" he said, imploringly. "Jest you +let me wheel it, an' I won't say a word if I never set eyes on you +ag'in. Jest you let me wheel, 'Mandy." + +"There ain't anybody goin' to touch a finger to it but me," said +Amanda, shortly. "If anybody's got to be sent to jail for it, it'll be +me. I can't talk no more. I 'ain't got any breath to spare." + +But the silence of years had been broken, and Caleb kept on. + +"Why, I was goin' over to Blaisdell's myself to buy 'em back. Here's my +wallet an' my bank-book. Don't that prove it? I was goin' to pay any +price he asked. I set an' mulled over it all the evenin'. It got late, +an' then I started. It al'ays has took me a good long spell to make up +my mind to things. I wa'n't to blame this arternoon because I couldn't +tell what was best to do all of a whew!" + +At the beginning of this revelation, Amanda's shoulders twitched +eloquently, but she said nothing. She reached the gate of the farmyard, +and wheeled in, panting painfully as she ascended the rise of the +grassy driveway. She toiled round to the back door; and then Caleb saw +that she had prepared for her return by leaving the doors of the +cellar-case open, and laying down a board over the steps. She turned +the wheelbarrow to descend; and Caleb, seeing his opportunity, ran +before to hold back its weight. Amanda did not prevent him; she had no +breath left for remonstrance. When the clock was safely in the cellar, +she went up the steps again, hooked the bulkhead door, and turned, even +in the darkness, unerringly to the flight of stairs. + +"You wait till I open the door into the kitchen," she said. "There's a +light up there." + +And Caleb plodded up the stairs after her with his head down, amazed +and sorrowful. + +"You can stay here," said Amanda, opening the outside door without +looking at him. "I'm goin' back to Cap'n Blaisdell's." + +She hurried out into the moonlit path across lots, and Caleb followed. +They entered the yard, and Amanda walked up to the window belonging to +the best bedroom. It was wide open, and she rapped on it loudly, and +then turned her back. + +"Hello!" came a sleepy voice from within. + +"I've got to speak to you," called Amanda. "You needn't get up. Be you +awake?" + +"I guess so," said the voice, this time several feet nearer the window. +"What's up?" + +"I've been over an' got our clock an' the rest of our things," said +Amanda, steadily. "An', you've got your money. I've carried the things +home an' fastened 'em up. They're down cellar under the arch, an' I'm +goin' to set over 'em till I drop afore anybody lays a finger on 'em +again. An' you can go to law if you're a mind to; _but I've got our +things_!" + +There was a silence. Amanda felt that the stranger's eyes were fastened +upon her back, and she tried not to tremble. Caleb knew they were, for +he and the man faced each other. + +"Well, now, you know you've as good as stole my property," began +Chapman; but at that instant, Caleb's voice broke roughly upon the air. + +"You say that ag'in," said he, "an' I'll horsewhip you within an inch +of your life. You touch them things ag'in, an' I'll break every bone in +your body. I dunno whose they be, accordin' to rights, but by gum!--" +and he stopped, for words will fail where a resolute heart need not. + +There was again a silence, and the stranger spoke: "Well, well!" he +said, good-naturedly. "I guess we'll have to call it square. I don't +often do business this way; but if you'll let me alone, I'll let you +alone. Good luck to you!" + +Amanda's heart melted. "You're real good!" she cried, and turned +impulsively; but when she faced the white-shirted form at the window, +she ejaculated, "Oh, my!" and fled precipitately round the corner of +the house. + +Side by side, the two took their way across lots again. Amanda was +shaking all over, with weariness and emotion spent. Suddenly a strange +sound at her side startled her into scrutiny of Caleb's face. + +"Why, Caleb Rivers!" she exclaimed, in amazement, "you ain't cryin'?" + +"I dunno what I'm doin'," said Caleb, brushing off two big tears with +his jumper sleeve, "an' I don't much care. It ain't your harnessin' for +yourself an' feedin' the pigs, an' my not comin' Saturday night, but +it's seein' you wheelin' that great thing all alone. An' you're so +little, 'Mandy! I never thought much o' myself, an' it al'ays seemed +kind o' queer you could think anything _of_ me; but I al'ays s'posed +you'd let me do the heft o' the work, an' not cast me off!" + +"I 'ain't cast you off, Caleb," said Amanda, faintly, and in spite of +herself her slender figure turned slightly but still gratefully toward +him. And that instant, for the first time in all their lives, Caleb's +arms were upholding her, and Amanda had received her crown. Caleb had +kissed her. + +"Say, 'Mandy," said he, when they parted, an hour later, by the syringa +bush at the back door, "the world won't come to an end if you don't +iron of a Tuesday. I was thinkin' we could ketch Passon True about ten +o'clock better'n we could in the arternoon." + + + + +JOINT OWNERS IN SPAIN. + + +The Old Ladies' Home, much to the sorrow of its inmates, "set back from +the road." A long, box-bordered walk led from the great door down to +the old turnpike, and thickly bowering lilac-bushes forced the eye to +play an unsatisfied hide-and-seek with the view. The sequestered old +ladies were quite unreconciled to their leaf-hung outlook; active life +was presumably over for them, and all the more did they long to "see +the passing" of the little world which had usurped their places. The +house itself was very old, a stately, square structure, with pillars on +either side of the door, and a fanlight above. It had remained +unpainted now for many years, and had softened into a mellow +lichen-gray, so harmonious and pleasing in the midst of summer's vital +green, that the few artists who ever heard of Tiverton sought it out, +to plant umbrella and easel in the garden, and sketch the stately +relic; photographers, also, made it one of their accustomed haunts. Of +the artists the old ladies disapproved, without a dissenting voice. It +seemed a "shaller" proceeding to sit out there in the hot sun for no +result save a wash of unreal colors on a white ground, or a few hasty +lines indicating no solid reality; but the photographers were their +constant delight, and they rejoiced in forming themselves into groups +upon, the green, to be "took" and carried away with the house. + +One royal winter's day, there was a directors' meeting in the great +south room, the matron's parlor, a sprat bearing the happy charm of +perfect loyalty to the past, with its great fireplace, iron dogs and +crane, its settle and entrancing corner cupboards. The hard-working +president of the board was speaking hastily and from a full heart, +conscious that another instant's discussion might bring the tears to +her eyes:-- + +"May I be allowed to say--it's irrelevant, I know, but I should like +the satisfaction of saying it--that this is enough to make one vow +never to have anything to do with an institution of any sort, from this +time forth for evermore?" + +For the moment had apparently come when a chronic annoyance must be +recognized as unendurable. They had borne with the trial, inmates and +directors, quite as cheerfully as most ordinary people accept the +inevitable; but suddenly the tension had become too great, and the +universal patience snapped. Two of the old ladies, Mrs. Blair and Miss +Dyer, who were settled in the Home for life, and who, before going +there, had shown no special waywardness of temper, had proved utterly +incapable of living in peace with any available human being; and as the +Home had insufficient accommodations, neither could be isolated to +fight her "black butterflies" alone. No inmate, though she were cousin +to Hercules, could be given a room to herself; and the effect of this +dual system on these two, possibly the most eccentric of the number, +had proved disastrous in the extreme. Each had, in her own favorite +fashion, "kicked over the traces," as the matron's son said in +town-meeting (much to the joy of the village fathers), and to such +purpose that, to continue the light-minded simile, very little harness +was left to guide them withal. Mrs. Blair, being "high sperited," like +all the Coxes from whom she sprung, had now so tyrannized over the last +of her series of room-mates, so browbeaten and intimidated her, that +the latter had actually taken to her bed with a slow-fever of +discouragement, announcing that "she'd rather go to the poor-farm and +done with it than resk her life there another night; and she'd like to +know what had become of that hunderd dollars her nephew Thomas paid +down in bills to get her into the Home, for she'd be thankful to them +that laid it away so antic to hand it back afore another night went +over her head, so't she could board somewheres decent till 'twas gone, +and then starve if she'd got to!" + +If Miss Sarah Ann Dyer, known also as a disturber of the public peace, +presented a less aggressive front to her kind, she was yet, in her own +way, a cross and a hindrance to their spiritual growth. She, poor +woman, lived in a scarcely varying state of hurt feeling; her tiny +world seemed to her one close federation, existing for the sole purpose +of infringing on her personal rights; and though she would not take the +initiative in battle, she lifted up her voice in aggrieved lamentation +over the tragic incidents decreed for her alone. She had perhaps never +directly reproached her own unhappy room-mate for selecting a +comfortable chair, for wearing squeaking shoes, or singing "Hearken, ye +sprightly," somewhat early in the morning, but she chanted those ills +through all her waking hours in a high, yet husky tone, broken by +frequent sobs. And therefore, as a result of these domestic whirlwinds +and too stagnant pools, came the directors' meeting, and the helpless +protest of the exasperated president. The two cases were discussed for +an hour longer, in the dreary fashion pertaining to a question which +has long been supposed to have but one side; and then it remained for +Mrs. Mitchell, the new director, to cut the knot with the energy of one +to whom a difficulty is fresh. + +"Has it ever occurred to you to put them together?" asked she. "They +are impossible people; so, naturally, you have selected the very +mildest and most Christian women to endure their nagging. They can't +live with the saints of the earth. Experience has proved that. Put them +into one room, and let them fight it out together." + +The motion was passed with something of that awe ever attending a +Napoleonic decree, and passed, too, with the utmost good-breeding; for +nobody mentioned the Kilkenny cats. The matron compressed her lips and +lifted her brows, but said nothing; having exhausted her own resources, +she was the more willing to take the superior attitude of good-natured +scepticism. + +The moving was speedily accomplished; and at ten o'clock, one morning, +Mrs. Blair was ushered into the room where her forced colleague sat by +the window, knitting. There the two were left alone. Miss Dyer looked +up, and then heaved a tempestuous sigh over her work, in the manner of +one not entirely surprised by its advent, but willing to suppress it, +if such alleviation might be. She was a thin, colorless woman, and +infinitely passive, save at those times when her nervous system +conflicted with the scheme of the universe. Not so Mrs. Blair. She had +black eyes, "like live coals," said her awed associates; and her skin +was soft and white, albeit wrinkled. One could even believe she had +reigned a beauty, as the tradition of the house declared. This morning, +she held her head higher than ever, and disdained expression except +that of an occasional nasal snort. She regarded the room with the air +of an impartial though exacting critic; two little beds covered with +rising-sun quilts, two little pine bureaus, two washstands. The +sunshine lay upon the floor, and in that radiant pathway Miss Dyer sat. + +"If I'd ha' thought I should ha' come to this," began Mrs. Blair, in +the voice of one who speaks perforce after long sufferance, "I'd ha' +died in my tracks afore I'd left my comfortable home down in Tiverton +Holler. Story-'n'-a-half house, a good sullar, an' woods nigh-by full +o' sarsaparilla an' goldthread! I've moved more times in this +God-forsaken place than a Methodist preacher, fust one room an' then +another; an' bad is the best. It was poor pickin's enough afore, but +this is the crowner!" + +Miss Dyer said nothing, but two large tears rolled down and dropped on +her work. Mrs. Blair followed their course with gleaming eyes endowed +with such uncomfortable activity that they seemed to pounce with every +glance. + +"What under the sun be you carryin' on like that for?" she asked, +giving the handle of the water-pitcher an emphatic twitch to make it +even with the world. "You 'ain't lost nobody, have ye, sence I moved in +here?" + +Miss Dyer put aside her knitting with ostentatious abnegation, and +began rocking herself back and forth in her chair, which seemed not of +itself to sway fast enough, and Mrs. Blair's voice rose again, ever +higher and more metallic:-- + +"I dunno what you've got to complain of more'n the rest of us. Look at +that dress you've got on,--a good thick thibet, an' mine's a cheap, +sleazy alpaca they palmed off on me because they knew my eyesight ain't +what it was once. An' you're settin' right there in the sun, gittin' +het through, an' it's cold as a barn over here by the door. My land! if +it don't make me mad to see anybody without no more sperit than a wet +rag! If you've lost anybody, why don't ye say so? An' if it's a mad +fit, speak out an' say that! Give me anybody that's got a tongue in +their head, _I_ say!" + +But Miss Dyer, with an unnecessary display of effort, was hitching her +chair into the darkest corner of the room, the rockers hopelessly +snarling her yarn at every move. + +"I'm sure I wouldn't keep the sun off'n anybody," she said, tearfully. +"It never come into my head to take it up, an' I don't claim no share +of anything. I guess, if the truth was known, 'twould be seen I'd been +used to a house lookin' south, an' the fore-room winders all of a glare +o' light, day in an' day out, an' Madeira vines climbin' over 'em, an' +a trellis by the front door; but that's all past an' gone, past an' +gone! I never was one to take more 'n belonged to me; an' I don't care +who says it, I never shall be. An' I'd hold to that, if 'twas the last +word I had to speak!" + +This negative sort of retort had an enfeebling effect upon Mrs. Blair. + +"My land!" she exclaimed, helplessly. "Talk about my tongue! Vinegar's +nothin' to cold molasses, if you've got to plough through it." + +The other sighed, and leaned her head upon her hand in an attitude of +extreme dejection. Mrs. Blair eyed her with the exasperation of one +whose just challenge has been refused; she marched back and forth +through the room, now smoothing a fold of the counterpane, with vicious +care, and again pulling the braided rug to one side or the other, the +while she sought new fuel for her rage. Without, the sun was lighting +snowy knoll and hollow, and printing the fine-etched tracery of the +trees against a crystal sky. The road was not usually much frequented +in winter time, but just now it had been worn by the week's sledding +into a shining track, and several sleighs went jingling up and down. + +Tiverton was seizing the opportunity of a perfect day and the best of +"going," and was taking its way to market. The trivial happenings of +this far-away world had thus far elicited no more than a passing glance +from Mrs. Blair; she was too absorbed in domestic warfare even to peer +down through the leafless lilac-boughs, in futile wonderment as to +whose bells they might be, ringing merrily past. On one journey about +the room, however, some chance arrested her gaze. She stopped, +transfixed. + +"Forever!" she cried. Her nervous, blue-veined hands clutched at her +apron and held it; she was motionless for a moment. Yet the picture +without would have been quite devoid of interest to the casual eye; it +could have borne little significance save to one who knew the inner +life history of the Tiverton Home, and thus might guess what slight +events wrought all its joy and pain. A young man had set up his camera +at the end of the walk, and thrown the cloth over his head, preparatory +to taking the usual view of the house. Mrs. Blair recovered from her +temporary inaction. She rushed to the window, and threw up the sash. +Her husky voice broke strenuously upon the stillness:-- + +"Here! you keep right where you be! I'm goin' to be took! You wait till +I come!" + +She pulled down the window, and went in haste to the closet, in the +excess of her eagerness stumbling recklessly forward into its depths. + +"Where's my bandbox?" Her voice came piercingly from her temporary +seclusion. "Where'd they put it? It ain't here in sight! My soul! +where's my bunnit?" + +These were apostrophes thrown off in extremity of feeling; they were +not questions, and no listener, even with the most friendly disposition +in the world, need have assumed the necessity of answering. So, wrapped +in oblivion to all earthly considerations save that of her Own inward +gloom, the one person who might have responded merely swayed back and +forth, in martyrized silence. But no such spiritual withdrawal could +insure her safety. Mrs. Blair emerged from the closet, and darted +across the room with the energy of one stung by a new despair. She +seemed about to fall upon the neutral figure in the corner, but seized +the chair-back instead, and shook it with such angry vigor that Miss +Dyer cowered down in no simulated fright. + +"Where's my green bandbox?'" The words were emphasized by cumulative +shakes, "Anybody that's took that away from me ought to be b'iled in +ile! Hangin''s too good for 'em, but le' me git my eye on 'em an' they +shall swing for 't! Yes, they shall, higher 'n Gil'roy's kite!" + +The victim put both trembling hands to her ears. + +"I ain't deef!" she wailed. + +"Deef? I don't care whether you're deef or dumb, or whether you're +nummer'n a beetle! It's my bandbox I'm arter. Isr'el in Egypt! you +might grind some folks in a mortar an' you couldn't make 'em speak!" + +It was of no use. Intimidation had been worse than hopeless; even +bodily force would not avail. She cast one lurid glance at the supine +figure, and gave up the quest in that direction as sheer waste of time. +With new determination, she again essayed the closet, tossing shoes and +rubbers behind her in an unsightly heap, quite heedless of the +confusion of rights and lefts. At last, in a dark corner, behind a blue +chest, she came upon her treasure. Too hurried now for reproaches, she +drew it forth, and with trembling fingers untied the strings. Casting +aside the cover, she produced a huge scoop bonnet of a long-past date, +and setting it on her head, with the same fevered haste, tied over it +the long figured veil destined always to make an inseparable part of +her state array. She snatched her stella shawl from the drawer, threw +it over her shoulders, and ran out of the room. + +Miss Dyer was left quite bewildered by these erratic proceedings, but +she had no mind to question them; so many stories were rife in the Home +of the eccentricities embodied in the charitable phrase "Mis' Blair's +way" that she would scarcely have been amazed had her terrible +room-mate chosen to drive a coach and four up the chimney, or saddle +the broom for a midnight revel. She drew a long breath of relief at the +bliss of solitude, closed her eyes, and strove to regain the lost +peace, which, as she vaguely remembered, had belonged to her once in a +shadowy past. + +Silence had come, but not to reign. Back flew Mrs. Blair, like a +whirlwind. Her cheeks wore each a little hectic spot; her eyes were +flaming. The figured veil, swept rudely to one side, was borne +backwards on the wind of her coming, and her thin hair, even in those +few seconds, had become wildly disarranged. + +"He's gone!" she announced, passionately. "He kep' right on while I was +findin' my bunnit. He come to take the house, an' he'd ha' took me an' +been glad. An' when I got that plaguy front door open, he was jest +drivin' away; an' I might ha' hollered till I was black in the face, +an' then I couldn't ha' made him hear." + +"I dunno what to say, nor what not to," remarked Miss Dyer, to her +corner. "If I speak, I'm to blame; an' so I be if I keep still." + +The other old lady had thrown herself into a chair, and was looking +wrathfully before her. + +"It's the same man that come from Sudleigh last August," she said, +bitterly. "He took the house then, an' said he wanted another view when +the leaves was off; an' that time I was laid up with my stiff ankle, +an' didn't git into it, an' to-day my bunnit was hid, an' I lost it +ag'in." + +Her voice changed. To the listener, it took on an awful meaning. + +"An' I should like to know whose fault it was. If them that owns the +winder, an' set by it till they see him comin', had spoke up an' said, +'Mis' Blair, there's the photograph man. Don't you want to be took?' it +wouldn't ha' been too late! If anybody had answered a civil question, +an' said, 'Your bunnit-box sets there behind my blue chist,' it +wouldn't ha' been too late then! An' I 'ain't had my likeness took +sence I was twenty year old, an' went to Sudleigh Fair in my changeable +_visite_ an' leghorn hat, an' Jonathan wore the brocaded weskit he +stood up in, the next week Thursday. It's enough to make a minister +swear!" + +Miss Dyer rocked back and forth. + +"Dear me!" she wailed. "Dear me suz!" + +The dinner-bell rang, creating a blessed diversion. Miss Blair, +rendered absent-minded by her grief, went to the table still in her +bonnet and veil; and this dramatic entrance gave rise to such morbid +though unexpressed curiosity that every one forbore, for a time, to +wonder why Miss Dyer did not appear. Later, however, when a tray was +prepared and sent up to her (according to the programme of her bad +days), the general commotion reached an almost unruly point, stimulated +as it was by the matron's son, who found an opportunity to whisper one +garrulous old lady that Miss Dyer had received bodily injury at the +hands of her roommate, and that Mrs. Blair had put on her bonnet to be +ready for the sheriff when he should arrive. This report, judiciously +started, ran like prairie fire; and the house was all the afternoon in +a pleasant state of excitement. Possibly the matron will never know why +so many of the old ladies promenaded the corridors from dinnertime +until long after early candlelight, while a few kept faithful yet +agitated watch from the windows. For interest was divided; some +preferred to see the sheriff's advent, and others found zest in the +possibility of counting the groans of the prostrate victim. + +When Mrs. Blair returned to the stage of action, she was much refreshed +by her abundant meal and the strong tea which three times daily +heartened her for battle. She laid aside her bonnet, and carefully +folded the veil. Then she looked about her, and, persistently ignoring +all the empty chairs, fixed an annihilating gaze on one where the +dinner-tray still remained. + +"I s'pose there's no need o' my settin' down," she remarked, bitingly. +"It's all in the day's work. Some folks are waited on; some ain't. Some +have their victuals brought to 'em an' pushed under their noses, an' +some has to go to the table; when they're there, they can take it or +leave it. The quality can keep their waiters settin' round day in an' +day out, fillin' up every chair in the room. For my part, I should +think they'd have an extension table moved in, an' a snowdrop cloth +over it!" + +Miss Dyer had become comparatively placid, but now she gave way to +tears. + +"Anybody can move that waiter that's a mind to," she said, tremulously. +"I would myself, if I had the stren'th; but I 'ain't got it. I ain't a +well woman, an' I 'ain't been this twenty year. If old Dr. Parks was +alive this day, he'd say so. 'You 'ain't never had a chance,' he says +to me. 'You've been pull-hauled one way or another sence you was born.' +An' he never knew the wust on't, for the wust hadn't come." + +"Humph!" It was a royal and explosive note. It represented scorn for +which Mrs. Blair could find no adequate utterance. She selected the +straightest chair in the room, ostentatiously turned its back to her +enemy, and seated herself. Then, taking out her knitting, she strove to +keep silence; but that was too heavy a task, and at last she broke +forth, with renewed bitterness,-- + +"To think of all the wood I've burnt up in my kitchen stove an' +air-tight, an' never thought nothin' of it! To think of all the wood +there is now, growin' an' rottin' from Dan to Beersheba, an' I can't +lay my fingers on it!" + +"I dunno what you want o' wood. I'm sure this room's warm enough." + +"You don't? Well, I'll tell ye. I want some two-inch boards, to nail up +a partition in the middle o' this room, same as Josh Marden done to +spite his wife. I don't want more'n my own, but I want it mine." + +Miss Dyer groaned, and drew an uncertain hand across her forehead. + +"You wouldn't have no gre't of an outlay for boards," she said, +drearily. "'Twouldn't have to be knee-high to keep me out. I'm no hand +to go where I ain't wanted; an' if I ever was, I guess I'm cured on't +now." + +Mrs. Blair dropped her knitting in her lap. For an instant, she sat +there motionless, in a growing rigidity; but light was dawning in her +eyes. Suddenly she came to her feet, and tossed her knitting on the +bed. + +"Where's that piece o' chalk you had when you marked out your +tumbler-quilt?" The words rang like a martial order. + +Miss Dyer drew it forth from the ancient-looking bag, known as a cavo, +which was ever at her side. + +"Here 'tis," she said, in her forlornest quaver. "I hope you won't do +nothin' out o' the way with it. I should hate to git into trouble here. +I ain't that kind." + +Mrs. Blair was too excited to hear or heed her. She was briefly, +flashingly, taking in the possibilities of the room, her bright black +eyes darting here and there with fiery insistence. Suddenly she went to +the closet, and, diving to the bottom of a baggy pocket in her "t'other +dress," drew forth a ball of twine. She chalked it, still in delighted +haste, and forced one end upon her bewildered room-mate. + +"You go out there to the middle square o' the front winder," she +commanded, "an' hold your end o' the string down on the floor. I'll +snap it." + +Miss Dyer cast one despairing glance about her, and obeyed. + +"Crazy!" she muttered. "Oh my land! she's crazy's a loon. I wisht Mis' +Mitchell'd pitch her tent here a spell!" + +But Mrs. Blair was following out her purpose in a manner exceedingly +methodical. Drawing out one bed, so that it stood directly opposite her +kneeling helper, she passed the cord about the leg of the bedstead and +made it fast; then, returning to the middle of the room, she snapped +the line triumphantly. A faint chalk-mark was left upon the floor. + +"There!" she cried. "Leggo! Now, you gi' me the chalk, an' I'll go over +it an' make it whiter." + +She knelt and chalked with the utmost absorption, crawling along on her +knees, quite heedless of the despised alpaca; and Miss Dyer, hovering +in a corner, timorously watched her. Mrs. Blair staggered to her feet, +entangled by her skirt, and pitching like a ship at sea. + +"There!" she announced. "Now here's two rooms. The chalk-mark's the +partition. You can have the mornin' sun, for I'd jest as soon live by a +taller candle if I can have somethin' that's my own. I'll chalk a lane +into the closet, an' we'll both keep a right o' way there. Now I'm to +home, an' so be you. Don't you dast to speak a word to me unless you +come an' knock here on my headboard,--that's the front door,--an' I +won't to you. Well, if I ain't glad to be alone! I've hung my harp on a +willer long enough!" + +It was some time before the true meaning of the new arrangement +penetrated Miss Dyer's slower intelligence; but presently she drew her +chair nearer the window and thought a little, chuckling as she did so. +She, too, was alone. + +The sensation was new and very pleasant. Mrs. Blair went back and forth +through the closet-lane, putting her clothes away, with high good +humor. Once or twice she sang a little--Derby's Ram and Lord Lovel--in +a cracked voice. She was in love with solitude. + +Just before tea, Mrs. Mitchell, in some trepidation, knocked at the +door, to see the fruits of contention present and to come. She had +expected to hear loud words; and the silence quite terrified her, +emphasizing, as it did, her own guilty sense of personal +responsibility. Miss Dyer gave one appealing look at Mrs. Blair, and +then, with some indecision, went to open the door, for the latch was in +her house. + +"Well, here you are, comfortably settled!" began Mrs. Mitchell. She had +the unmistakable tone of professional kindliness; yet it rang clear and +true. "May I come in?" + +"Set right down here," answered Miss Dyer, drawing forward a chair. +"I'm real pleased to see ye." + +"And how are you this afternoon?" This was addressed to the occupant of +the other house, who, quite oblivious to any alien presence, stood +busily rubbing the chalk-marks from her dress. + +Mrs. Blair made no answer. She might have been stone deaf, and as dumb +as the hearthstone bricks. Mrs. Mitchell cast an alarmed glance at her +entertainer. + +"Isn't she well?" she said, softly. + +"It's a real pretty day, ain't it?" responded Miss Dyer. "If 'twas +summer time, I should think there'd be a sea turn afore night. I like a +sea turn myself. It smells jest like Old Boar's Head." + +"I have brought you down some fruit." Mrs. Mitchell was still anxiously +observing the silent figure, now absorbed in an apparently futile +search in a brocaded work-bag. "Mrs. Blair, do you ever cut up bananas +and oranges together?" + +No answer. The visitor rose, and unwittingly stepped across the +dividing line. + +"Mrs. Blair--" she began, but she got no further. + +Her hostess turned upon her, in surprised welcome. + +"Well, if it ain't Mis' Mitchell! I can't say I didn't expect you, for +I see you goin' into Miss Dyer's house not more'n two minutes ago. +Seems to me you make short calls. Now set right down here, where you +can see out o' the winder. That square's cracked, but I guess the +directors'll put in another." + +Mrs. Mitchell was amazed, but entirely interested. It was many a long +day since any person, official or private, had met with cordiality from +this quarter. + +"I hope you and our friend are going to enjoy your room together," she +essayed, with a hollow cheerfulness. + +"I expect to be as gay as a cricket," returned Mrs. Blair, innocently. +"An' I do trust I've got good neighbors. I like to keep to myself, but +if I've got a neighbor, I want her to be somebody you can depend upon." + +"I'm sure Miss Dyer means to be very neighborly." The director turned, +with a smile, to include that lady in the conversation. But the local +deafness had engulfed her. She was sitting peacefully by the window, +with the air of one retired within herself, to think her own very +remote thoughts. The visitor mentally improvised a little theory, and +it seemed to fit the occasion. They had quarrelled, she thought, and +each was disturbed at any notice bestowed on the other. + +"I have been wondering whether you would both like to go sleighing with +me some afternoon?" she ventured, with the humility so prone to assail +humankind in a frank and shrewish presence. "The roads are in wonderful +condition, and I don't believe you'd take cold. Do you know, I found +Grandmother Eaton's foot-warmers, the other day! I'll bring them +along." + +"Law! I'd go anywheres to git out o' here," said Mrs. Blair, +ruthlessly. "I dunno when I've set behind a horse, either. I guess the +last time was the day I rid up here for good, an' then I didn't feel +much like lookin' at outdoor. Well, I guess you _be_ a new director, or +you never'd ha' thought on't!" + +"How do you feel about it, Miss Dyer?" asked the visitor. "Will you +go,--perhaps on, Wednesday?" + +The other householder moved uneasily. Her hands twitched at their +knitting; a flush came over her cheeks, and she cast a childishly +appealing glance at her neighbor across the chalkline. Her eyes were +filling fast with tears. "Save me!" her look seemed to entreat "Let me +not lose this happy fortune!" Mrs. Blair interpreted the message, and +rose to the occasion with the vigor of the intellectually great. + +"Mis' Mitchell," she said, clearly, "I may be queer in my notions, but +it makes me as nervous as a witch to have anybody hollerin' out o' my +winders. I don't care whether it's company nor whether it's my own +folks. If you want to speak to Miss Dyer, you come along here after +me,--don't you hit the partition now!--right out o' my door an' into +her'n. Here, I'll knock! Miss Dyer, be you to home?" + +The little old lady came forward, fluttering and radiant in the excess +of her relief. + +"Yes, I guess I be," she said, "an' all alone, too! I see you go by the +winder, an' I was in' hopes you'd come in!" + +Then the situation dawned upon Mrs. Mitchell with an effect vastly +surprising to the two old pensioners. She turned from one to the other, +including them both in a look of warm loving-kindness. It was truly an +illumination. Hitherto, they had thought chiefly of her winter cloak +and nodding ostrich plume; now, at last, they saw her face, and read +some part of its message. + +"You poor souls!" she cried. "Do you care so much as that? 'O you poor +souls!" + +Miss Dyer fingered her apron and looked at the floor, but her companion +turned brusquely away, even though she trod upon the partition in her +haste. + +"Law! it's nothin' to make such a handle of" she said. "Folks don't +want to be under each other's noses all the time. I dunno's anybody +could stan' it, unless 'twas an emmet. They seem to git along swarmin' +round together." + +Mrs. Mitchell left the room abruptly. + +"Wednesday or Thursday, then!" she called over her shoulder. + +The next forenoon, Mrs. Blair made her neighbor a long visit. Both old +ladies had their knitting, and they sat peacefully swaying back and +forth, recalling times past, and occasionally alluding to their happy +Wednesday. + +"What I really come in for," said Mrs. Blair, finally, "was to ask if +you don't think both our settin'-rooms need new paper." + +The other gave one bewildered glance about her. + +"Why, 'tain't been on more 'n two weeks," she began; and then +remembrance awoke in her, and she stopped. It was not the scene of +their refuge and conflict that must be considered; it was the house of +fancy built by each unto herself. Invention did not come easily to her +as yet, and she spoke with some hesitation. + +"I've had it in mind myself quite a spell, but somehow I 'ain't been +able to fix on the right sort o' paper." + +"What do you say to a kind of a straw color, all lit up with tulips?" +inquired Mrs. Blair; triumphantly. + +"Ain't that kind o' gay?" + +"Gay? Well, you want it gay, don't ye? I dunno why folks seem to think +they've got to live in a hearse because they expect to ride in one! +What if we be gittin' on a little mite in years? We ain't underground +yit, be we? I see a real good ninepenny paper once, all covered over +with green brakes. I declare if 'twa'n't sweet pretty! Well, whether I +paper or whether I don't, I've got some thoughts of a magenta sofy. I'm +tired to death o' that old horsehair lounge that sets in my clock-room. +Sometimes I wish the moths would tackle it, but I guess they've got +more sense. I've al'ays said to myself I'd have a magenta sofy when I +could git round to it, and I dunno's I shall be any nearer to it than I +be now." + +"Well, you _are_ tasty," said Miss Dyer, in some awe. "I dunno how you +come to think o' that!" + +"Priest Rowe had one when I wa'n't more 'n twenty. Some o' his +relations give it to him (he married into the quality), an' I remember +as if 'twas yisterday what a tew there was over it. An' I said to +myself then, if ever I was prospered I'd have a magenta sofy. I 'ain't +got to it till now, but now I'll have it if I die for't." + +"Well, I guess you're in the right on't." Miss Dyer spoke absently, +glancing from the window in growing trouble. "O Mis' Blair!" she +continued, with a sudden burst of confidence, "you don't think there's a +storm brewin', do you? If it snows Wednesday, I shall give up beat!" + +Mrs. Blair, in her turn, peered at the smiling sky. + +"I hope you ain't one o' them kind that thinks every fair day's a +weather breeder," she said. "Law, no! I don't b'lieve it will storm; +an' if it does, why, there's other Wednesdays comin'!" + + + + +AT SUDLEIGH FAIR. + + +Delilah Joyce was sitting on her front doorstone with a fine disregard +of the fact that her little clock had struck eight of the morning, +while her bed was still unmade. The Tiverton folk who disapproved of +her shiftlessness in letting the golden hours, run thus to waste, did +grudgingly commend her for airing well. Her bed might not even be +spread up till sundown, but the sheets were always hanging from her +little side window, in fine weather, flapping dazzlingly in the sun; +and sometimes her feather-bed lay, the whole day long, on the green +slope outside, called by Dilly her "spring," only because the snow +melted first there on the freedom days of the year. The new editor of +the Sudleigh "Star," seeing her slight, wiry figure struggling with the +bed like a very little ant under a caterpillar all too large, was once +on the point of drawing up his horse at her gate. He was a chivalrous +fellow, and he wanted to help; but Brad Freeman, hulking by with his +gun at the moment, stopped him. + +"That's only Dilly wrastlin' with, her bed," he called back, in the act +of stepping over the wall into the meadow. "'Twon't do no good to take +holt once, unless you're round here every mornin' 'bout the same time. +Dilly'll git the better on't. She al'ays does." So the editor laughed, +put down another Tiverton custom in his mental notebook, and drove on. + +Dilly was a very little woman, with abnormally long and sinewy arms. +Her small, rather delicate face had a healthy coat of tan, and her +iron-gray hair was braided with scrupulous care. She resembled her own +house to a striking degree; she was fastidiously neat, but not in the +least orderly. The Tiverton housekeepers could not appreciate this +attitude in reference to the conventional world. It was all very well +to keep the kitchen floor scrubbed, but they did believe, also, in +seeing the table properly set, and in finishing the washing by eight +o'clock on Monday morning. Now Dilly seldom felt inclined to set any +table at all. She was far more likely to take her bread and milk under +a tree; and as for washing, Thursday was as good a day as any, she was +wont to declare. Moreover, the tradition of hanging garments on the +line according to a severely classified system, did not in the least +appeal to her. + +"I guess a petticoat'll dry jest as quick if it's hung 'side of a +nightgown," she told her critics, drily. "An' when you come to hangin' +stockin's by the pair, better separate 'em, I say! Like man an' wife! +Give 'em a vacation, once in a while, an' love'll live the longer!" + +Dilly was thinking, this morning, of all the possibilities of the +lovely, shining day. So many delights lay open to her! She could take +her luncheon in her pocket, and go threading through the woods behind +her house. She could walk over to Pine Hollow, to see how the cones +were coming on, and perchance scrape together a basket of pine needles, +to add to her winter's kindling; or she might, if the world and the +desires thereof assailed her, visit Sudleigh Fair. Better still, she +need account to nobody if she chose to sit there on the doorstone, and +let the hours go unregretted by. Presently, her happy musing was broken +by a ripple from the outer world. A girl came briskly round the corner +where the stone-wall lay hidden under a wilderness of cinnamon +rosebushes and blackberry vines,--Rosa Tolman, dressed in white +_pique_, with a great leghorn hat over her curls. The girl came +hurrying up the path, with a rustle of starched petticoats, and still +Dilly kept her trance-like posture. + +"I know who 'tis!" she announced, presently, in a declamatory voice. +"It's Rosy Tolman, an' she's dressed in white, with red roses, all +complete, an' she's goin' to Sudleigh Cattle-Show." + +Rosa lost a shade of pink from her cheeks. Her round blue eyes widened, +in an unmistakable terror quite piteous to see. + +"O Dilly!" she quavered, "how do you know such things? Why, you 'ain't +looked at me!" + +Dilly opened her eyes, and chuckled in keen enjoyment. + +"Bless ye!" she said, "I can't help imposin' on ye, no more 'n a cat +could help ketchin' a mouse, if't made a nest down her throat. Why, I +see ye comin' round the corner! But when folks thinks you're a witch, +it ain't in human natur' not to fool 'em. I _am_ a witch, ain't I, +dear? Now, ain't I?" + +Rosa's color had faltered back, but she still stood visibly in awe of +her old neighbor. + +"Well," she owned, "Elvin Drew says you can see in the dark, but I +don't know's he means anything by it." + +Again Dilly broke into laughter, rocking back and forth, in happy +abandonment. + +"I can!" she cried, gleefully. "You tell him I can! An' when I can't, +folks are so neighborly they strike a light for me to see by. You tell +him! Well, now, what is it? You've come to ask suthin'. Out with it!" + +"Father told me to come over, and see if you can't tell something about +our cows. They're all drying up, and he don't see any reason why." + +Dilly nodded her head sagely. + +"You'd better ha' come sooner," she announced. "You tell him he must +drive 'em to pastur' himself, an' go arter 'em, too." + +"Why?" + +"An' you tell him to give Davie a Saturday, here an' there, to go +fishin' in, an' not let him do so many chores. Now, you hear! Your +father must drive the cows, an' he must give Davie time to play a +little, or there'll be dark days comin', an' he won't be prepared for +'em." + +"My!" exclaimed Rosa, blankly. "My! Ain't it queer! It kind o' scares +me. But, Dilly,"--she turned about, so that only one flushed cheek +remained visible,--"Dilly, 'ain't you got something to say to me? We're +going to be married next Tuesday, Elvin and me. It's all right, ain't +it?" + +Dilly bent forward, and peered masterfully into her face. She took the +girl's plump pink handy and drew her forward. Rosa, as if compelled by +some unseen force, turned about, and allowed her frightened gaze to lie +ensnared by the witch's great black eyes. Dilly began, in a deep +intense voice, with the rhythm of the Methodist exhorter, though on a +lower key,-- + +"Two years, that boy's been arter you. Two years, you trampled on him +as if he'd been the dust under your feet. He was poor an' strugglin'. +He was left with his mother to take care on, an' a mortgage to work off. +An' then his house burnt down, an' he got his insurance money; an' that +minute, you turned right round an' says, 'I'll have you.' An' now, you +say, 'Is it all right?' _Is_ it right, Rosy Tolman? You tell _me_!" + +Rosa was sobbing hysterically. + +"Oh, I wish you wouldn't scare me so!" she exclaimed, yet not for a +moment attempting to withdraw her hand, or turn aside her terrified +gaze. "I wish I never'd said one word!" + +Dilly broke the spell as lightly as she had woven it. A smile passed +over her face, like a charm, dispelling all its prophetic fervor. + +"There! there!" she said, dropping the girl's hand. "I thought I'd +scare ye! What's the use o' bein' a witch, if ye can't upset folks? Now +don't cry, an' git your cheeks all blotched up afore Elvin calls to +fetch ye, with that hired horse, an' take ye to the Cattle-Show! But +don't ye forgit what I say! You remember we ain't goin' to wait for the +Day o' Judgment, none on us. It comes every hour. If Gabriel was +tootin', should you turn fust to Elvin Drew, an' go up or down with +him, wherever he was 'lected? That's what you've got to think on; not +your new hat nor your white _pique_. (Didn't iron it under the +overskirt, did ye? How'd I know? Law! how's a witch know anything?) +Now, you 'ain't opened your bundle, dear, have ye? Raisin-cake in it, +ain't there?" + +Rosa bent suddenly forward, and placed the package in Dilly's lap. In +spite of the bright daylight all about her, she was frightened; if a +cloud had swept over, she must have screamed. + +"I don't know how you found it out," she whispered, "but _'tis_ +raisin-cake. Mother sent it. She knew I was going to ask you about the +cows. She said I was to tell you, too, there's some sickness over to +Sudleigh, and she thought you could go over there nussing, if you +wanted to." + +"I 'ain't got time," said Dilly, placidly. "I give up nussin', two year +ago. I 'ain't got any time at all! Well, here they come, don't they? +One for me, an' one for you!" + +A light wagon, driven rapidly round the corner, drew up at the gate. +Elvin Drew jumped down, and helped out his companion, a short, rather +thickset girl, with smooth, dark hair, honest eyes, and a sensitive +mouth. She came quickly up the path, after an embarrassed word of +thanks to the young man. + +"He took me in," she began, almost apologetically to Rosa, who surveyed +her with some haughtiness. "I was comin' up here to see Dilly, an' he +offered me a ride." + +Rosa's color and spirits had returned, at the sight of her tangible +ally at the gate. + +"Well, I guess I must be going," she said, airily. "Elvin won't want to +wait. Good-by, Dilly! I'll tell father. Good-by, Molly Drew!" + +But Dilly followed her down to the road, where Elvin stood waiting with +the reins in his hands. He was a very blond young man, with curly hair, +and eyes honest in contour and clear of glance. Perhaps his coloring +impressed one with the fact that he should have looked very young; but +his face shrunk now behind a subtile veil of keen anxiety, of irritated +emotion, which were evidently quite foreign to him. Even a stranger, +looking at him, could hardly help suspecting an alien trouble grafted +upon a healthy stem. He gave Dilly a pleasant little nod, in the act of +turning eagerly to help Rosa into the wagon. But when he would have +followed her, Dilly laid a light but imperative hand on his arm. + +"Don't you want your fortune told?" she asked, meaningly. "Here's the +witch all ready. Ain't it well for me I wa'n't born a hunderd year ago? +Shouldn't I ha' sizzled well? An' now, all there is to burn me is God +A'mighty's sunshine!" + +Elvin laughed lightly. + +"I guess I don't need any fortune," he said. "Mine looks pretty fair +now. I don't feel as if anybody'd better meddle with it." But he had +not withdrawn his arm, and his gaze still dwelt on hers. + +"You know suthin' you don't mean to tell," said Dilly, speaking so +rapidly that although Rosa bent forward to listen, she caught only a +word, here and there. "You think you won't have to tell, but you will. +God A'mighty'll make you. You'll be a stranger among your own folks, +an' a wanderer on the earth; till you tell. There! go along! Go an' see +the punkins an' crazy-quilts!" + +She withdrew her hand, and turned away. Elvin, his face suddenly +blanched, looked after her, fascinated, while she went quickly up the +garden walk. An impatient word from Rosa recalled him to himself, and +he got heavily into the wagon and drove on again. + +When Dilly reached the steps where her new guest had seated herself, +her manner had quite changed. It breathed an open frankness, a sweet +and homely warmth which were very engaging. Molly spoke first. + +"How pleased he is with her!" she said, dreamily. + +"Yes," answered Dilly, "but to-day ain't tomorrer. They're both +light-complected. It's jest like patchwork. Put light an' dark +together, I say, or you won't git no figger. Here, le's have a mite o' +cake! Mis' Tolman's a proper good cook, if her childern _have_ all +turned out ducks, an' took to the water. Every one on 'em's took back +as much as three generations for their noses an' tempers. Strange they +had to go so fur!" + +She broke the rich brown loaf in the middle, and divided a piece +with Molly. Such were the habits calculated to irritate the +conventionalities of Tiverton against her. Who ever heard of breaking +cake when one could go into the house for a knife! They ate in silence, +and the delights of the summer day grew upon Molly as they never did +save when she felt the nearness of this queer little woman. Turn which +side of her personality she might toward you, Dilly could always bend +you to her own train of thought. + +"I come down to talk things over," said Molly, at last, brushing the +crumbs of cake from her lap. "I've got a chance in the shoe-shop." + +"Do tell! Well, ain't that complete? Don't you say one word, now! I +know how 'tis. You think how you'll have to give up the birds' singin', +an' your goin' into the woods arter groundpine, an' stay cooped up in a +boardin'-house to Sudleigh. I know how 'tis! But don't you fret. You +come right here an' stay Sundays, an' we'll eat up the woods an' drink +up the sky! There! It's better for ye, dear. Some folks are made to +live in a holler tree, like me; some ain't. You'll be better on't among +folks." + +Molly's eyes filled with tears. + +"You've been real good to me," she said, simply. + +"I wish I'd begun it afore," responded Dilly, with a quick upward lift +of her head, and her brightest smile. "You see I didn't know ye very +well, for all you'd lived with old Mis' Drew so many year. I 'ain't had +much to do with folks. I knew ye hadn't got nobody except her, but I +knew, too, ye were contented there as a cricket. But when she died, an' +the house burnt down, I begun to wonder what was goin' to become on +ye." + +Molly sat looking over at the pine woods, her lips compressed, her +cheeks slowly reddening. Finally she burst passionately forth,-- + +"Dilly, I'd like to know why I couldn't have got some rooms an' kep' +house for Elvin? His mother's my own aunt!" + +"She wa'n't his mother, ye know. She was His stepmother, for all they +set so much by one Another. Folks would ha' talked, an' I guess Rosy +wouldn't ha' stood that, even afore they were engaged. Rosy may not +like corn-fodder herself, any more 'n t'other dog did, but she ain't +goin' to see other noses put into't without snappin' at 'em." + +"Well, it's all over," said Molly, drearily. "It 'ain't been hard for +me stayin' round as I've done, an' sewin' for my board; but it's seemed +pretty tough to think of Elvin livin' in that little shanty of Caleb's +an' doin' for himself. I never could see why he didn't board somewheres +decent." + +"Wants to save his six hunderd dollars, to go out West an' start in the +furniture business," said Dilly, succinctly. "Come, Molly, what say to +walkin' over to Sudleigh Cattle-Show?" + +Molly threw aside her listless mood like a garment. + +"Will you?" she cried. "Oh, I'd like to! You know I'm sewin' for Mis' +Eli Pike; an' they asked me to go, but I knew she'd fill up the seat so +I should crowd 'em out of house an' home. Will you, Dilly?" + +"You wait till I git suthin' or other to put over my head," said Dilly, +rising with cheerful decision. "Here, you gi' me that cake! I'll tie it +up in a nice clean piece o' table-cloth, an' then we'll take along a +few eggs, so 't we can trade 'em off for bread an' cheese. You jest +pull in my sheets, an' shet the winder, while I do it. Like as not +there'll be a shower this arternoon." + +When the little gate closed behind them, Molly felt eagerly excited, +as, if she were setting forth for a year's happy wandering. Dilly knew +the ways of the road as well as the wood. She was, as usual, in light +marching order, a handkerchief tied over her smooth braids; another, +slung on a stick over her shoulder, contained their luncheon and the +eggs for barter. All her movements were buoyant and free, like those of +a healthy animal let loose in pleasant pastures. She walked so lightly +that the eggs in the handkerchief were scarcely stirred. + +"See that little swampy patch!" she said, stopping when they had +rounded the curve in the road. "A week or two ago, that was all alive +with redbud flowers. I dunno the right name on 'em, an' I don't care. +Redbirds, I call 'em. I went over there, one day, an' walked along +between the hummocks, spush! spush! You won't find a nicer feelin' than +that, wherever ye go. Take off your shoes an' stockin's, an' wade into +a swamp! Warm, coarse grass atop! Then warm, black mud, an' arter that, +a layer all nice an' cold that goes down to Chiny, fur's I know! That +was the day I meant to git some thoroughwort over there, to dry, but I +looked at the redbird flowers so long I didn't have time, an' I +never've been sence." + +Molly laughed out, with a pretty, free ripple in her voice. + +"You're always sayin' that, Dilly! You never have time for anything but +doin' nothin'!" + +A bright little sparkle came into Dilly's eyes, and she laughed, too. + +"Why, that's what made me give' up nussin' two year ago," she said, +happily. "I wa'n't havin' no time at all. I couldn't live my proper +life. I al'ays knew I should come to that, so I'd raked an' scraped, +an' put into the bank, till I thought I'd got enough to buy me a mite +o' flour while I lived, an' a pine coffin arter I died; an' then I jest +set up my Ebenezer I'd be as free's a bird. Freer, I guess I be, for +they have to scratch pretty hard, come cold weather, an' I bake me a +'tater, an' then go clippin' out over the crust, lookin' at the bare +twigs. Oh, it's complete! If I could live this way, I guess a thousand +years'd be a mighty small dose for me. Look at that goldenrod, over +there by the stump! That's the kind that's got the most smell." + +Molly broke one of the curving plumes. + +"I don't see as it smells at all," she said, still sniffing delicately. + +"Le'me take it! Why, yes, it does, too! Everything smells _some_. +Oftentimes it's so faint it's more like a feelin' than a smell. But +there! you ain't a witch, as I be!" + +"I wish you wouldn't say that!" put in Molly, courageously. "You make +people think you are." + +"Law, then, let 'em!" said Dilly, with a kindly indulgence. "It don't +do them no hurt, an' it gives me more fun'n the county newspaper. +They'd ruther I'd say I was a witch'n tell 'em I've got four eyes an' +eight ears where they 'ain't but two. I tell ye, there's a good deal +missed when ye stay to home makin' pies, an' a good deal ye can learn +if ye live out-door. Why, there's Tolman's cows! He dunno why they dry +up; but I do. He, sends that little Davie with 'em, that don't have no +proper playtime; an' Davie gallops 'em all the way to pastur', so't he +can have a minute to fish in the brook. An' then he gallops 'em home +ag'in, because he's stole a piece out o' the arternoon. I ketched him +down there by the brook, one day, workin' away with a bent pin, an' the +next mornin' I laid a fish-hook on the rock, an' hid in the woods to +see what he'd say. My! I 'guess Jonah wa'n't more tickled when he set +foot on dry land. Here comes the wagons! There's the Poorhouse team +fust, an' Sally Flint settin' up straighter 'n a ramrod. An' there's +Heman an' Roxy! She don't look a day older'n twenty-five. Proper nice +folks, all on 'em, but they make me kind o' homesick jest because they +_be_ folks. They do look so sort o' common in their bunnits an' veils, +an' I keep thinkin' o' little four-legged creatur's, all fur!" The +Tiverton folk saluted them, always cordially, yet each after his kind. +They liked Dilly as a product all their own, but one to be partaken of +sparingly, like some wild, intoxicating root. + +They loved her better at home, too, than at Sudleigh Fair. It was like +a betrayal of their fireside secrets, to see her there in her +accustomed garb; so slight a concession to propriety would have lain in +her putting on a bonnet and shawl! + +As they neared Sudleigh town, the road grew populous with carriages and +farm-wagons, "step and step," not all from Tiverton way, but gathered +in from the roads converging here. Men were walking up and down the +market street, crying their whips, their toy balloons, and a multitude +of cheaper gimcracks. + +"Forty miles from home! forty miles from home!" called one, more +imaginative than the rest. "And no place to lay my head! That's why I'm +selling these little whips here to-day, a stranger in a strange land. +Buy one! buy one! and the poor pilgrim'll have a supper and a bed! Keep +your money in your pocket, and he's a wanderer on the face of the +earth!" + +Dilly, the fearless in her chosen wilds, took a fold of Molly's dress, +and held it tight. + +"You s'pose that's so?" she whispered. "Oh, dear! I 'ain't got a mite +o' money, on'y these six eggs. Oh, why didn't he stay to home, if he's +so possessed to sleep under cover? What does anybody leave their home +_for_, if they've got one?" + +But Molly put up her head, and walked sturdily on. + +"Don't you worry," she counselled, in an undertone. "It don't mean any +more 'n it does when folks say they're sellin' at a sacrifice. I guess +they expect to make enough, take it all together." + +Dilly walked on, quite bewildered. She had lost her fine, joyous +carriage; her shoulders were bent, and her feet shuffled, in a +discouraged fashion, over the unlovely bricks. Molly kept the lead, +with unconscious superiority. + +"Le's go into the store now," she said, "an' swap off the eggs. You'll +be joggled in this crowd, an' break 'em all to smash. Here, you le' me +have your handkerchief! I'll see to it all." She kept the handkerchief +in her hand, after their slight "tradin'" had been accomplished; and +Dilly, too dispirited to offer a word, walked meekly about after her. + +The Fair was held, according to ancient custom, in the town-hall, of +which the upper story had long been given over to Sudleigh Academy. +Behind the hall lay an enormous field, roped in now, and provided with +pens and stalls, where a great assemblage of live-stock lowed, and +grunted, and patiently chewed the cud. + +"Le's go in there fust," whispered Dilly. "I sha'n't feel so strange +there as I do with folks. I guess if the four-footed creatur's can +stan' it, I can. Pretty darlin'!" she added, stopping before a heifer +who had ceased eating and was looking about her with a mild and +dignified gaze. Dilly eagerly sought out a stick, and began to scratch +the delicate head. "Pretty creatur'! Smell o' her breath, Molly! See +her nose, all wet, like pastur' grass afore day! Now, if I didn't want +to live by myself, I'd like to curl me up in a stall, 'side o' her." + +"'Mandy, you an' Kelup come here!" called Aunt Melissa Adams. She +loomed very prosperous, over the way, in her new poplin and her +lace-trimmed cape. "Jest look at these roosters! They've got spurs on +their legs as long's my darnin'-needle. What under the sun makes 'em +grow so! An' ain't they the nippin'est little creatur's you ever see?" + +"They're fightin'-cocks," answered Caleb, tolerantly. + +"Fightin'-cocks? You don't mean to tell me they're trained up for +that?" + +"Yes, I do!" + +"Well, I never heard o' such a thing in a Christian land! never! Whose +be they? I'll give him a piece o' my mind, if I live another minute!" + +"You better let other folks alone," said Caleb, stolidly. + +"'Mandy," returned Aunt Melissa, in a portentous undertone, "be you +goin' to stan' by an' see your own aunt spoke to as if she was the dirt +under your feet?" + +Amanda had once in her life asserted herself at a crucial moment, and +she had never seen cause to regret it. Now she "spoke out" again. She +made her slender neck very straight and stiff, and her lips set +themselves firmly over the words,-- + +"I guess Caleb won't do you no hurt, Aunt Melissa. He don't want you +should make yourself a laughin'-stock, nor I don't either. There's +Uncle Hiram, over lookin' at the pigs. I guess he don't see you. Caleb, +le's we move on!" + +Aunt Melissa stood looking after them, a mass of quivering wrath. + +"Well, I must say!" she retorted to the empty air. "If I live, I must +say!" + +Dilly took her placid companion by the arm, and hurried her on. Human +jangling wore sadly upon her; under such maddening onslaught she was +not incapable of developing "nerves." They stopped before a stall where +another heifer stood, chewing her cud, and looking away into remembered +pastures. + +"Oh, see!" said Molly, "'Price $500'! Do you b'lieve it?" + +"Well, well!" came Mrs. Eli Pike's ruminant voice from the crowd. "I'm +glad I don't own that creatur'! I shouldn't sleep nights if I had five +hunderd dollars in cow." + +"Tain't five hunderd dollars," said Hiram Cole, elbowing his way to the +front. "'Tain't p'inted right, that's all. P'int off two ciphers--" + +"Five dollars!" snickered a Crane boy, diving through the crowd, and +proceeding to stand on his head in a cleared space beyond. "That's wuth +less'n Miss Lucindy's hoss!" + +Hiram Cole considered again, one lean hand stroking his cheek. + +"Five--fifty--" he announced. "Well, I guess _'tis_ five hunderd, arter +all! Anybody must want to invest, though, to put all their income into +perishable cow-flesh!" + +"You look real tired," whispered Molly. "Le's come inside, an' perhaps +we can set down." + +The old hall seemed to have donned strange carnival clothes, +for a mystic Saturnalia. It was literally swaddled in +bedquilts,--tumbler-quilts, rising-suns, Jacob's-ladders, log-cabins, +and the more modern and altogether terrible crazy-quilt. There were +square yards of tidies, on wall and table, and furlongs of home-knit +lace. Dilly looked at this product of the patient art of woman with a +dispirited gaze. + +"Seems a kind of a waste of time, don't it?" she said, dreamily, "when +things are blowin' outside? I wisht I could see suthin' made once to +look as handsome as green buds an' branches. Law, dear, now jest turn +your eyes away from them walls, an' see the tables full of apples! an' +them piles o' carrots, an' cabbages an' squashes over there! Well, +'tain't so bad if you can look at things the sun's ever shone on, no +matter if they be under cover." She wandered up and down the tables, +caressing the rounded outlines of the fruit with her loving gaze. The +apples, rich and fragrant, were a glory and a joy. There were great +pound sweetings, full of the pride of mere bigness; long purple +gilly-flowers, craftily hiding their mealy joys under a sad-colored +skin; and the Hubbardston, a portly creature quite unspoiled by the +prosperity of growth, and holding its lovely scent and flavor like an +individual charm. There was the Bald'in, stand-by old and good as +bread; and there were all the rest. We know them, we who have courted +Pomona in her fair New England orchards. + +Near the fancy-work table sat Mrs. Blair, of the Old Ladies' Home, on a +stool she had wrenched from an unwilling boy, who declared it belonged +up in the Academy, whence he had brought it "to stan' on" while he +drove a nail. And though he besought her to rise and let him return it, +since he alone must be responsible, the old lady continued sitting in +silence. At length she spoke,-- + +"Here I be, an' here I'm goin' to set till the premiums is tacked on. +Them pinballs my neighbor, Mis' Dyer, made with her own hands, an' +she's bent double o' rheumatiz. An' I said I'd bring 'em for her, an' +I'd set by an' see things done fair an' square." + +"There, Mrs. Blair, don't you worry," said Mrs. Mitchell, a director of +the Home, putting a hand on the martial and belligerent shoulder, +"Don't you mind if she doesn't get a premium. I'll buy the pinballs, +and that will do almost as well." + +"My! if there ain't goin' to be trouble between Mary Lamson an' +Sereno's Hattie, I'll miss my guess!" said a matron, with an +appreciative wag of her purple-bonneted head. "They've either on 'em +canned up more preserves 'n Tiverton an' Sudleigh put together, an' +Mary's got I dunno what all among 'em!--squash, an' dandelion, an' +punkin with lemon in't. That's steppin' acrost the bounds, _I_ say! If +she gits a premium for puttin' up gardin-sass, I'll warrant there'll be +a to-do. An' Hattie'll make it!" + +"I guess there won't be no set-to about such small potaters," said Mrs. +Pike, with dignity. Her broad back had been unrecognized by the herald, +careless in her haste. "Hattie's ready an' willin' to divide the +premium, if't comes to her, an' I guess Mary'd be, put her in the same +place." + +"My soul an' body!" exclaimed another, trudging up and waving a large +palmleaf fan. "Well, there, Rosanna Pike! Is that you? Excuse me all, +if I don't stop to speak round the circle, I'm so put to't with Passon +True's carryin's on. You know he's been as mad as hops over Sudleigh +Cattle-Show, reg'lar as the year come round, because there's a raffle +for a quilt, or suthin'. An' now he's come an' set up a sort of a stall +over t'other side the room, an' folks thinks he's tryin' to git up a +revival. I dunno when I've seen John so stirred. He says we hadn't +ought to be made a laughin'-stock to Sudleigh, Passon or no Passon. An' +old Square Lamb says--" + +But the fickle crowd waited to hear no more. With one impulse, it +surged over to the other side of the hall, where Parson True, standing +behind a table brought down from the Academy, was saying solemnly,-- + +"Let us engage in prayer!" + +The whispering ceased; the titters of embarrassment were stilled, and +mothers tightened their grasp on little hands, to emphasize the change +of scene from light to graver hue. Some of the men looked lowering; one +or two strode out of doors. They loved Parson True, but the Cattle-Show +was all their own, and they resented even a ministerial innovation. The +parson was a slender, wiry man, with keen blue eyes, a serious mouth, +and an overtopping forehead, from which the hair was always brushed +straight back. He called upon the Lord, with passionate fervor, to +"bless this people in all their outgoings and comings-in, and to keep +their feet from paths where His blessing could not attend them." + +"Is that the raffle, mother?" whispered the smallest Crane boy; and his +mother promptly administered a shake, for the correction of misplaced +curiosity. + +Then Parson True opened his eyes on his somewhat shamefaced flock and +their neighbor townsmen, and began to preach. It was good to be there, +he told them, only as it was good to be anywhere else, in the spirit of +God. Judgment might overtake them there, as it might at home, in house +or field. Were they prepared? He bent forward over the table, his slim +form trembling with the intensity of gathering passion. He appealed to +each one personally with that vibratory quality of address peculiar to +him, wherein it seemed that not only his lips but his very soul +challenged the souls before him. One after another joined the outer +circle, and faces bent forward over the shoulders in front, with that +strange, arrested expression inevitably born when, on the flood of +sunny weather, we are reminded how deep the darkness is within the +grave. + +"Let every man say to himself, 'Thou, God, seest me!'" reiterated the +parson. "Thou seest into the dark corners of my heart. What dost Thou +see, O God? What dost Thou see?" + +Elvin and Rosa had drawn near with the others. She smiled a little, and +the hard bloom on her cheeks had not wavered. No one looked at them, +for every eye dwelt on the preacher; and though Elvin's face changed +from the healthy certainty of life and hope to a green pallor of +self-recognition, no one noticed. Consequently, the general surprise +culminated in a shock when he cried out, in a loud voice, "God be +merciful! God be merciful! I ain't fit to be with decent folks! I'd +ought to be in jail!" and pushed his way through the crowd until he +stood before the parson, facing him with bowed head, as if he found in +the little minister the vicegerent of God. He had kept Rosa's hand in a +convulsive grasp, and he drew her with him into the eye of the world. +She shrank back, whimpering feebly; but no one took note of her. The +parson knew exactly what, to do when the soul travailed and cried +aloud. He stretched forth his hands, and put them on the young man's +shoulders. + +"Come, poor sinner, come!" he urged, in a voice of wonderful melting +quality. "Come! Here is the throne of grace! Bring your burden, and +cast it down." + +The words roused Elvin, or possibly the restraining touch. He started +back. + +"I can't!" he cried out, stridently. "I can't yet! I can't! I can't!" + +Still leading Rosa, who was crying now in good earnest, he turned, and +pushed his way out of the crowd. But once outside that warm human +circuit, Rosa broke loose from him. She tried to speak for his ear +alone, but her voice strove petulantly through her sobs: + +"Elvin Drew, I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself! You've made +me ridiculous before the whole town, and I never'll speak to you again +as long as I live. If I hadn't stayed with you every minute, I should +think you'd been drinking, and I believe to my soul you have!" She +buried her face in her handkerchief, and stumbled over to a table where +Laura Pettis was standing, open-eyed with amazement, and the two +clasped each other, while Rosa cried on. Elvin only looked about him, +in a bewildered fashion, when the warm hand was wrenched away; then, +realizing that he was quite alone, his head bent under a deeper +dejection. He seemed unable to move from the spot, and stood there +quite stupidly, until murmurs of "What's the matter of him?" came from +the waiting crowd, and Parson True himself advanced, with hands again +outstretched. But Dilly Joyce forestalled the parson. She, too came +forward, in her quick way, and took Elvin firmly by the arm. + +"Here, dear," she said, caressingly, "you come along out-doors with +us!" + +Elvin turned, still hanging his head, and the three (for little Molly +had come up on the other side, trying to stand very tall to show her +championship) walked out of the hall together. Dilly had ever a quick +eye for green, growing things, and she remembered a little corner of +the enclosure, where one lone elm-tree stood above a bank. Thither she +led him, with an assured step; and when they had reached the shadow, +she drew him forward, and said, still tenderly,-- + +"There, dear, you set right down here an' think it over. We'll stay +with ye. We'll never forsake ye, will we, Molly?" + +Molly, who did not know what it was all about, had no need to know. +"Never!" she said, stanchly. + +The three sat down there; and first the slow minutes, and then the +hours, went by. It had not been long before some one found out where +they were, and curious groups began to wander past, always in silence, +but eying them intently. Elvin sat with his head bent, looking fixedly +at a root of plantain; but Molly confronted the alien faces with a +haughty challenging stare, while her cheeks painted themselves ever a +deeper red. Dilly leaned happily back against the elm trunk, and dwelt +upon the fleece-hung sky; and her black eyes grew still calmer and more +content. She looked as if she had learned what things are lovely and of +good repute. When the town-clock struck noon, she brought forth their +little luncheon, and pressed it upon the others, with a nice +hospitality. Elvin shook his head, but Molly ate a trifle, for pride's +sake. + +"You go an' git him a mite o' water," whispered Dilly, when they had +finished. "I would, but I dunno the ways o' this place. It'll taste +good to him." + +Molly nodded, and hurried away; presently she came back, bearing a tin +cup, and Elvin drank, though he did not thank her. + +In the early afternoon, Ebenezer Tolman came striding down between the +pens in ostentatious indignation. He was a tall, red-faced man, with a +large, loose mouth, and blond-gray whiskers, always parted and blowing +in the wind. He wore, with manifest pride, the reputation of being a +dangerous animal when roused. He had bought a toy whip, at little +Davie's earnest solicitation, and, lashing it suggestively against his +boot, he began speaking long before he reached the little group. The +lagging crowd of listeners paused, breathless, to lose no word. + +"Look here, you! don't ye darken my doors ag'in, an' don't ye dast to +open your head to one o' my folks! We're done with ye! Do you hear? +We're done with ye! Rosy'll ride home with me to-night, an' she'll ride +with you no more!" + +Elvin said nothing, though his brow contracted suddenly at Rosa's name. +Ebenezer was about to speak again; but the little parson came striding +swiftly up, his long coat flying behind him, and Tolman, who was a +church-member, in good and regular standing, moved on. But the parson +was routed, in his turn. Dilly rose, and, as some one afterwards said, +"clipped it right up to him." + +"Don't you come now, dear," she advised him, in that persuasive voice +of hers. "No, don't you come now. He ain't ready. You go away, an' let +him set an' think it out." And the parson, why he knew not, turned +about, and went humbly back to his preaching in the hall. + +The afternoon wore on, and it began to seem as if Elvin would never +break from his trance, and never speak. Finally, after watching him a +moment with her keen eyes, Dilly touched him lightly on the arm. + +"The Tolmans have drove home," she said, quietly. "All on 'em. What if +you should git your horse, an' take Molly an' me along?" + +Elvin came to his feet with a lurch. He straightened himself. + +"I've got to talk to the parson," said he. + +"So I thought," answered Dilly, with composure, "but 'tain't no place +here. You ask him to ride, an' let Miss Dorcas drive home alone. We +four'll stop at my house, an' then you can talk it over." + +Elvin obeyed, like a child tired of his own way. When they packed +themselves into the wagon,--where Dilly insisted on sitting behind, to +make room,--the Tiverton and Sudleigh people stood about in groups, to +watch them. Hiram Cole came forward, just as Elvin took up the reins. + +"Elvin," said he, in a cautious whisper, with his accustomed gesture of +scraping his cheek, "I've got suthin' to say to ye. Don't ye put no +money into Dan Forbes's hands. I've had a letter from brother 'Lisha, +out in Illinois, an' he says that business Dan wrote to you +about--well, there never was none! There ain't a stick o' furniture +made there! An' Dan's been cuttin' a dash lately with money he got +som'er's or other, an' he's gambled, an' I dunno what all, an' been +took up. An' now he's in jail. So don't you send him nothin'. I thought +I'd speak." + +Elvin looked at him a moment, with a strange little smile dawning about +his mouth. + +"That's all right," he said, quickly, and drove away. + +To Molly, the road home was like a dark passage full of formless fears. +She did not even know what had befallen the dear being she loved best; +but something dire and tragic had stricken him, and therefore her. The +parson was acutely moved for the anguish he had not probed. Only Dilly +remained cheerful. When they reached her gate, it was she who took the +halter from Elvin's hand, and tied the horse. Then she walked up the +path, and flung open her front door. + +"Come right into the settin'-room," she said. "I'll git ye some water +right out o' the well. My throat's all choked up o' dust." + +The cheerful clang of the bucket against the stones, the rumble of the +windlass, and then Dilly came in with a brimming bright tin dipper. She +offered it first to the parson, and though she refilled it scrupulously +for each pair of lips, it seemed a holy loving-cup. They sat there in +the darkening room, and Dilly "stepped round" and began to get supper. +Molly nervously joined her, and addressed her, once or twice, in a +whisper. But Dilly spoke out clearly in, answer, as if rebuking her. + +"Le's have a real good time," she said, when she had drawn the table +forward and set forth her bread, and apples, and tea. "Passon, draw up! +You drink tea, don't ye? I don't, myself. I never could bear to spile +good water. But I keep it on hand for them that likes it. Elvin, here! +You take this good big apple. It's man's size more 'n woman's, I +guess." + +Elvin pushed back his chair. + +"I ain't goin' to put a mouthful of victuals to my lips till I make up +my mind whether I can speak or not," he said, loudly. + +"All right," answered Dilly, placidly. "Bless ye! the teapot'll be +goin' all night, if ye say so." + +Only Dilly and the parson made a meal; and when it was over, Parson +True rose, as if his part of the strange drama must at last begin, and +fell on his knees. + +"Let us pray!" + +Molly, too, knelt, and Elvin threw his arms upon the table, and laid +his head upon them. But Dilly stood erect. From time to time, she +glanced curiously from the parson to the lovely darkened world outside +her little square of window, and smiled slightly, tenderly, as if out +there she saw the visible God. The parson prayed for "this sick soul, +our brother," over and over, in many phrases, and with true and +passionate desire. And when the prayer was done, he put his hand on the +young man's shoulder, and said, with a yearning persuasiveness,-- + +"Tell it now, my brother! Jesus is here." + +Elvin raised his head, with a sudden fierce gesture toward Dilly. + +"She knows," he said. "She can see the past. She'll tell you what I've +done." + +"I 'ain't got nothin' to tell, dear," answered Dilly, peacefully. +"Everything you've done's between you an' God A'mighty. I 'ain't got +nothin' to tell!" + +Then she went out, and, deftly unharnessing the horse, put him in her +little shed, and gave him a feed of oats. The hens had gone to bed +without their supper. + +"No matter, biddies," she said, conversationally, as she passed their +roost. "I'll make it up to you in the mornin'!" + +When she entered the house again, Elvin still sat there, staring +stolidly into the dusk. The parson was praying, and Molly, by the +window, was holding the sill tightly clasped by both hands, as if +threatening herself into calm. When the parson rose, he turned to +Elvin, less like the pastor than the familiar friend. One forgot his +gray hairs in the loving simplicity of his tone. + +"My son," he said, tenderly, "tell it all! God is merciful." + +But again Dilly put in her voice. + +"Don't you push him, Passon! Let him speak or not, jest as he's a mind +to. Let God A'mighty do it His way! Don't _you_ do it!" + +Darkness settled in the room, and the heavenly hunter's-moon rose and +dispelled it. + +"O God! can I?" broke forth the young man. "O God! if I tell, I'll go +through with it. I will, so help me!" + +The moving patterns of the vine at the window began to etch themselves +waveringly on the floor. Dilly bent, and traced the outline of a leaf +with her finger. + +"I'll tell!" cried Elvin, in a voice exultant over the prospect of +freedom. "I'll tell it all. I wanted money. The girl I meant to have +was goin' with somebody else, an' I'd got to scrape together some +money, quick. I burnt down my house an' barn. I got the insurance +money. I sent some of it out West, to put into that furniture business, +an' Dan Forbes has made way with it. I only kept enough to take Rosa +an' me out there. I'll give up that, an' go to jail; an' if the Lord +spares my life, when I come out I'll pay it back, principal an' +int'rest." + +Molly gave one little moan, and buried her face in her hands. The +parson and Dilly rose, by one impulse, and went forward to Elvin, who +sat upright, trembling from excitement past. Dilly reached him first. +She put both her hands on his forehead, and smoothed back his hair. + +"Dear heart," she said, in a voice thrilled through by music,--"dear +heart! I was abroad that night, watchin' the stars, an' I see it all. I +see ye do it. You done it real clever, an' I come nigh hollerin' out to +ye, I was so pleased, when I see you was determined to save the +livestock. An' that barn-cat, dear, that old black Tom that's ketched +my chickens so long!--you 'most broke your neck to save him. But I +never should ha' told, dear, never! 'specially sence you got out the +creatur's." + +"And 'in Christ shall all be made alive!'" said the parson, wiping his +eyes, and then beginning to pat Elvin's hand with both his own. "Now, +what shall we do? What shall we do? Why not come home with me, and stay +over night? My dear wife will be glad to see you. And the morning will +bring counsel." + +Elvin had regained a fine freedom of carriage, and a decision of tone +long lost to him. He was dignified by the exaltation of the moment. + +"I've got it all fixed," he said, like a man. "I thought it all out +under that elm-tree, today. You drive me over to Sheriff Holmes's, an' +he'll tell me what's right to do,--whether I'm to go to the insurance +people, or whether I'm to be clapped into jail. He'll know. It's out o' +my hands. I'll go an' harness now." + +Parson True drew Molly forward from her corner, and held her hand, +while he took Elvin's, and motioned Dilly to complete the circle. + +"Jesus Christ be with us!" he said, solemnly. "God, our Father, help us +to love one another more and more tenderly because of our sins!" + +While Elvin was harnessing, a dark figure came swiftly through the +moonlight. + +"Elvin," whispered Molly, sharply. "O Elvin, I can't bear it! You take +what money you've got, an' go as fur as you can. Then you work, an' +I'll work, an' we'll pay 'em back. What good will it do, for you to go +to jail? Oh, what good will it do!" + +"Poor little Molly!" said he. "You do care about me, don't you? I +sha'n't forget that, wherever I am." + +Molly came forward, and threw her arms about him passionately. + +"Go! go!" she whispered, fiercely. "Go now! I'll drive you some'er's +an' bring the horse back. Don't wait! I don't want a hat." + +Elvin smoothed her hair. + +"No," said he, gravely, "you'll see it different, come mornin'. The +things of this world ain't everything. Even freedom ain't everything. +There's somethin' better. Good-by, Molly. I don't know how long a +sentence they give; but when they let me out, I shall come an' tell you +what I think of you for standin' by. Parson True!" + +The parson came out, and Dilly followed. When the two men were seated +in the wagon, she bent forward, and laid her hand on Elvin's, as it +held the reins. + +"Don't you be afraid," she said, lovingly. "If they shet ye up, you +remember there ain't nothin' to be afraid of but wrong-doin', an' +that's only a kind of a sickness we al'ays git well of. An' God +A'mighty's watchin' over us all the time. An' if you've sp'iled your +chance in this life, don't you mind. There's time enough. Plenty o' +time, you says to yourself, plenty!" + +She drew back, and they drove on. Molly, in heart-sick sobbing, threw +herself forward into the little woman's arms, and Dilly held her with +an unwearied cherishing. + +"There, there, dear!" she said, tenderly. "Ain't it joyful to think +he's got his soul out o' prison, where he shet it up? He's all free +now. It's jest as if he was born into a new world, to begin all over." + +"But, Dilly, I love him so! An' I can't do anything! not a thing! O +Dilly, yes! yes! Oh, it's little enough, but I could! I could save my +shoe-shop money, an' help him pay his debt, when he's out o' jail." + +"Yes," said Dilly, joyously. "An' there's more'n that you can do. You +can keep him in your mind, all day long, an' all night long, an' your +sperit'll go right through the stone walls, if they put him there, an' +cheer him up. + +"He won't know how, but so it'll be, dear, so it'll be. Folks don't know +why they're uplifted sometimes, when there ain't no cause; but _I_ say +it's other folks's love. Now you come in, dear, an' we'll make the +bed--it's all aired complete--an' then we'll go to sleep, an' see if we +can't dream us a nice, pleasant dream,--all about green gardins, an' +the folks we love walking in the midst of 'em!" + + + + +BANKRUPT + + +Miss Dorcas True stood in her square front entry, saying good-by to +Phoebe Marsh. The entry would have been quite dark from its +time-stained woodwork and green paper, except for the twilight glimmer +swaying and creeping through the door leading into the garden. Out +there were the yellow of coreopsis, and the blue of larkspur, melted +into a dim magnificence of color, suffusing all the air; to one who +knew what common glory was a-blowing and a-growing there without, the +bare seclusion of the house might well seem invaded by it, like a +heavenly flood. Phoebe, too, in her pink calico, appeared to spread +abroad the richness of her youth and bloom, and radiate a certain light +about her where she stood. She was tall, her proportions were ample, +and her waist very trim. She had the shoulders and arms of the women of +an elder time, whom we classify vaguely now as goddesses. The Tiverton +voices argued that she would have been "real handsome if she'd had any +sense about doin' her hair;" which was brought down loosely over her +ears, in the fashion of her Aunt Phoebe's miniature. Miss Dorcas beside +her looked like one of autumn's brown, quiescent stems left standing by +the way. She was firmly built, yet all her lines subdued themselves to +that meagreness which ever dwells afar from beauty. The deep marks of +hard experience had been graven on her forehead, and her dark eyes +burned inwardly; the tense, concentrated spark of pain and the glowing +of happy fervor seemed as foreign to them as she herself to all the +lighter joys and hopes. Her only possibility of beauty lay in an +abundance of soft dark hair; but even that had been restricted and +coiled into a compact, utilitarian compass. She had laid one nervous +hand on Phoebe's arm, and she grasped the arm absently, from time to +time, in talking, with unconscious joy in its rounded warmth. She spoke +cautiously, so that her voice might not be heard within. + +"Then you come over to-morrow, after the close of service, if it's +convenient. You can slip right into the kitchen, just as usual. Any +news?" + +Phoebe, too, lowered her voice, but the full sweetness of its quality +thrilled out. + +"Mary Frances Giles is going to be married next week. I've been down to +see her things. She's real pleased." + +"You don't suppose they'll ask father to marry 'em?" Miss Dorcas spoke +quite eagerly. + +"Oh, no, they can't! It's a real wedding, you know. It's got to be at +the house." + +"Yes, of course it's got to! I knew that myself, but I couldn't help +hoping. Well, goodnight. You come Sunday." + +Phoebe lifted her pink skirts about her, and stepped, rustling and +stately, down the garden walk. Miss Dorcas drew one deep breath of the +outer fragrance, and turned back into the house. A thin voice, +enfeebled and husky from old age, rose in the front room, as she +entered: + +"Dorcas! Dorcas! you had a caller?" + +Her father, old Parson True, lay in the great bed opposite the window. +A thin little twig of a man, he was still animated, at times, by the +power of a strenuous and dauntless spirit. His hair, brushed straight +back from the overtopping forehead, had grown snowy white, and the +eager, delicate face beneath wore a strange pathos from the very +fineness of its nervously netted lines. Not many years after his wife's +death, the parson had shown some wandering of the wits; yet his +disability, like his loss, had been mercifully veiled from him. He took +calmly to his bed, perhaps through sheer lack of interest in life, and +it became his happy invention that he was "not feeling well," from one +day to another, but that, on the next Sunday, he should rise and +preach. He seemed like an unfortunate and uncomplaining child, and the +village folk took pride in him as something all their own; a pride +enhanced by his habit, in this weak estate, of falling back into the +homely ways of speech he had used long ago when he was a boy "on the +farm." In his wife's day, he had stood in the pulpit above them, and +expounded scriptural lore in academic English; now he lapsed into their +own rude phrasing, and seemed to rest content in a tranquil certainty +that nothing could be better than Tiverton ways and Tiverton's homely +speech. + +"Dorcas," he repeated, with all a child's delight in his own +cleverness, "you've had somebody here. I heard ye!" + +Dorcas folded the sheet back over the quilt, and laid her hand on his +hair, with all the tenderness of the strong when they let themselves +brood over the weak. + +"Only Phoebe, on her way home," she answered, gently. "The doctor +visited her school to-day. She thinks he may drop in to see you +to-night. I guess he give her to understand so." + +The minister chuckled. + +"Ain't he a smart one?" he rejoined. "Smart as a trap! Dorcas, I 'ain't +finished my sermon. I guess I shall have to preach an old one. You lay +me out the one on the salt losin' its savor, an' I'll look it over." + +"Yes, father." + +The same demand and the same answer, varied but slightly, had been +exchanged between them every Saturday night for years. Dorcas replied +now without thinking. Her mind had spread its wings and flown out into +the sweet stillness of the garden and the world beyond; it even +hastened on into the unknown ways of guesswork, seeking for one who +should be coming. She strained her ears to hear the beating of hoofs +and the rattle of wheels across the little, bridge. The dusk sifted in +about the house, faster and faster; a whippoorwill cried from the +woods. So she sat until the twilight had vanished, and another of the +invisible genii was at hand, saying, "I am Night." + +"Dorcas!" called the parson again. He had been asleep, and seemed now +to be holding himself back from a broken dream. "Dorcas, has your +mother come in yet?" + +"No, father." + +"Well, you wake me up when you see her down the road; and then you go +an' carry her a shawl. I dunno what to make o' that cough!" His voice +trailed sleepily off, and Dorcas rose and tiptoed out of the room. She +felt the blood in her face; her ears thrilled noisily. The doctor's, +wagon, had crossed the bridge; now it was whirling swiftly up the road. +She stationed herself in the entry, to lose no step in his familiar +progress. The horse came lightly along, beating out a pleasant tune of +easy haste. He was drawn up at the gate, and the doctor threw out his +weight, and jumped buoyantly to the ground. There was the brief pause +of reaching for his medicine-case, and then, with that firm step whose +rhythm she knew so well, he was walking up the path. Involuntarily, as +Dorcas awaited him, she put her hand to her heart with one of those +gestures that seem so melodramatic and are so real; she owned to +herself, with a throb of appreciative delight, how the sick must warm +at his coming. This new doctor of Tiverton was no younger than Dorcas +herself, yet with his erect carriage and merry blue eye she seemed to +be not only of another temperament, but another time. It had never +struck him that they were contemporaries. Once he had told Phoebe, in a +burst of affection and pitying praise, that he should have liked Miss +Dorcas for a maiden aunt. + +"Good evening," he said, heartily, one foot on the sill. "How's the +patient?" + +At actual sight of him, her tremor vanished, and she answered very +quietly,-- + +"Father's asleep. I thought you wouldn't want he should be disturbed; +so I came out." + +The doctor took off his hat, and pushed back his thick, unruly hair. + +"Yes, that was right," he said absently, and pinched a spray of +southernwood that grew beside the door. "How has he seemed?" + +"About as usual." + +"You've kept on with the tonic?" + +"Yes." + +"That's good! Miss Dorcas, look up there. See that moon! See that wisp +of an old blanket dragging over her face! Do you mind coming out and +walking up and down the road while we talk? I may think of one or two +directions to give about your father." + +Dorcas stepped forward with the light obedience given to happy tasking. +She paused as quickly. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I can't. Father might wake up. I never leave him +alone." + +"Never mind, then! let's sit right down here on the steps. After all, +perhaps it's pleasanter. What a garden! It's like my mother's. I could +pick out every leaf in the dark, by the smell. But you're alone, aren't +you? I'm not keeping you from any one?" + +"Oh, no! I'm all alone, except father." + +"Yes. The fact is, I went into your school to-day, and the teacher said +she was coming here to-night. She offered to bring you a message, but I +said I should come myself. I'm abominably late. I couldn't get here any +earlier." + +"Oh, yes! Phoebe! She was here over an hour ago. Phoebe's a real +comfort to me." She was seated on the step above him, and it seemed +very pleasant to her to hear his voice, without encountering also the +challenge of his eyes. + +"No, is she though?" The doctor suddenly faced round upon her. "Tell me +about it!" + +Then, quite to her surprise, Dorcas found herself talking under the +spell of an interest so eager that it bore her on, entirely without her +own guidance. + +"Well, you see there's a good many things I keep from father. He +never's been himself since mother died. She was the mainstay here. But +he thinks the church prospers just the same, and I never've told him +the attendance dropped off when they put up that 'Piscopal building +over to Sudleigh. You 'ain't lived here long enough to hear much about +that, but it's been a real trial to him. The summer boarders built it, +and some rich body keeps it up; and our folks think it's complete to go +over there and worship, and get up and down, and say their prayers out +loud." + +The doctor laughed out. + +"I've heard about it," said he. "You know what Brad Freeman told Uncle +Eli Pike, when they went in to see how the service was managed? +Somebody found the places in the prayer-book for them, and Brad was +quick-witted, and got on very well; but Eli kept dropping behind. Brad +nudged him. 'Read!' he said out loud. 'Read like the devil!' I've heard +that story on an average of twice a day since I came to Tiverton. I'm +not tired of it yet!" + +Miss Dorcas, too, had heard it, and shrunk from its undisguised +profanity. Now she laughed responsively. + +"I guess they do have queer ways," she owned. "Well, I never let father +know any of our folks go over there. He'd be terrible tried. And I've +made it my part in our meeting to keep up the young folks' interest as +much as I can. I've been careful never to miss my Sunday-school class. +They're all girls, nice as new pins, every one of 'em! Phoebe was in it +till a little while ago, but now she comes here and sits in the kitchen +while I'm gone. I don't want father to know that, for I hope it +never'll come into his head he's so helpless; but I should be worried +to death to have him left alone. So Phoebe sits there with her book, +ready to spring if she should hear anything out o' the way." + +The doctor had lapsed into his absent mood, but now he roused himself, +with sudden interest. + +"That's very good of her, isn't it?" he said "You trust her, don't +you?" + +"Trust Phoebe! Well, I guess I do! I've known her ever since she went +to Number Five, and now she's keeping the school herself. She's a real +noble girl!" + +"Tell me more!" said the doctor, warmly. "I want to hear it all. +You're so new to me here in Tiverton! I want to get acquainted." + +Miss Dorcas suddenly felt as if she had been talking a great deal, and +an overwhelming shyness fell upon her. + +"There isn't much to tell," she hesitated. "I don't know's anything'd +happened to me for years, till father had his ill-turn in the spring, +and we called you in. He don't seem to realize his sickness was +anything much. I've told the neighbors not to dwell on it when they're +with him. Phoebe won't; she's got some sense." + +"Has she?" said the doctor, still eagerly. "I'm glad of that, for your +sake!" He rose to go, but stood a moment near the steps, dallying with +a reaching branch of jessamine; it seemed persuading him to stay. He +had always a cheery manner, but to-night it was brightened by a dash of +something warm and reckless. He had the air of one awaiting good news, +in confidence of its coming. Dorcas was alive to the rapt contagion, +and her own blood thrilled. She felt young. + +"Well!" said he, "well, Miss Dorcas!" He took a step, and then turned +back. "Well, Miss Dorcas," he said again, with an embarrassed laugh, +"perhaps you'd like to gather in one more church-goer. If I have time +tomorrow, I'll drop in to your service, and then I'll come round here, +and tell your father I went." + +Dorcas rose impulsively. She could have stretched out her hands to him, +in the warmth of her gratitude. + +"Oh, if you would! Oh, how pleased he'd be!" + +"All right!" Now he turned away with decision. "Thank you, Miss Dorcas, +for staying out. It's a beautiful evening. I never knew such a June. +Good-night!" He strode down the walk, and gave a quick word to his +horse, who responded in whinnying welcome. An instant's delay, another +word, and they were gone. + +Dorcas stood listening to the scatter of hoofs down the dusty road and +over the hollow ledge. She sank back on the sill, and, step by step, +tried to retrace the lovely arabesque the hour had made. At last, she +had some groping sense of the full beauty of living, when friendship +says to its mate, "Tell me about yourself!" and the frozen fountain +wells out, every drop cheered and warmed, as it falls, in the sunshine +of sympathy. She saw in him that perfection of life lying in strength, +which he undoubtedly had, and beauty, of which he had little or much +according as one chose to think well of him. To her aching sense, he +was a very perfect creature, gifted with, infinite capacities for help +and comfort. + +But the footfalls ceased, and the garden darkened by delicate yet swift +degrees; a cloud had gone over the moon, fleecy, silver-edged, but +still a cloud. The waning of the light seemed to her significant; she +feared lest some bitter change might befall the moment; and went in, +bolting the door behind her. Once within her own little bedroom, she +loosened her hair, and moved about aimlessly, for a time, careless of +sleep, because it seemed so far. Then a sudden resolve nerved her, and +she stole back again to the front door, and opened it. The night was +blossoming there, glowing now, abundant. It was so rich, so full! The +moonlight here, and star upon star above, hidden not by clouds but by +the light! Need she waste this one night out of all her unregarded +life? She stepped forth among the flower-beds, stooping, in a +passionate fervor, to the blossoms she could reach; but, coming back to +the southernwood, she took it in her arms. She laid her face upon it, +and crushed the soft leaves against her cheeks. It made all the world +smell of its own balm and dew. The fragrance and beauty of the time +passed into her soul, and awakened corners there all unused to such +sweet incense. She was drunken with the wine that is not of grapes. She +could not have found words for the passion that possessed her, though +she hugged it to her heart like another self; but it was elemental, +springing from founts deeper than those of life and death. God made it, +and, like all His making, it was divine. She sat there, the +southernwood still gathered into her arms, and at last emotion stilled +itself, and passed into thought; a wild temptation rose, and with its +first whisper drove a hot flush into her cheeks, and branded it there. +Love! she had never named the name in its first natal significance. She +had scarcely read it; for romance, even in books, had passed her by. +But love! she knew it as the insect knows how to spread his new +sun-dried wings in the air for which he was create. Sitting there, in a +happy drowse, she thought it all out. She was old, plain, unsought; the +man she exalted was the flower of his kind. He would never look on her +as if she might touch the hem of wifehood's mantle; so there would be +no shame in choosing him. Just to herself, she might name the Great +Name. He would not know. Only her own soul would know, and God who gave +it, and sent it forth fitted with delicate, reaching tentacles to touch +the rock set there to wound them. She began to feel blindly that God +was not alone the keeper of eternal Sabbaths, but the germinant heat at +the heart of the world. If she were a young girl, like Phoebe, there +would be shame. Even a thought of him would be a stretching forth her +hand to touch him, saying, "Look at me! I am here!" but for her it was +quite different. It would be like a dream, some grandmother dreamed in +the sun, of rosy youth and the things that never came to pass. No one +would be harmed, and the sleeper would have garnered one hour's joy +before she took up her march again on the lonesomest road of all,--so +lonesome, although it leads us, home! Thus she thought, half sleeping, +until the night-dews clung in drops upon her hair; then she went in to +bed, still wrapped about with the drapery of her dreams. + +Next morning, when Dorcas carried in her father's breakfast, she walked +with a springing step, and spoke in a voice so full and fresh it made +her newly glad. + +"It's a nice day, father! There'll be lots of folks out to meeting." + +"That's a good girl!" This was his commendation, from hour to hour; it +made up the litany of his gratitude for what she had been to him. "But +I dunno's I feel quite up to preachin' to-day, Dorcas!" + +"That'll be all right, father. We'll get somebody." + +"You bring me out my sermon-box after breakfast, an' I'll pick out +one," said he, happily. "Deacon Tolman can read it." + +But, alas! Deacon Tolman had been dead this many a year! + +A little later, the parson sat up in bed, shuffling his manuscript +about with nervous hands, and Dorcas, in the kitchen, stood washing her +breakfast dishes. That eager interest in living still possessed her. +She began humming, in a timid monotone. Her voice had the clearness of +truth, with little sweetness; and she was too conscious of its +inadequacy to use it in public, save under the compelling force of +conscience. Hitherto, she had only sung in Sunday-school, moved, as in +everything, by the pathetic desire of "doing her part;" but this +morning seemed to her one for lifting the voice, though not in Sunday +phrasing. After a little thought, she began thinly and sweetly,-- + + "Early one morning, just as the sun was rising, + I heard a maid sing in the valley below: + 'O don't deceive me! O never leave me + How could you use a poor maiden so?'" + +A gruff voice from the doorway broke harshly in upon a measure. + +"Yes! yes! Well! well! Tunin' up a larrady, ain't ye?" + +Dorcas knew who it was, without turning round,--a dark, squat woman, +broad all over; broad in the hips, the waist, the face, and stamped +with the race-mark of high cheekbones. Her thick, straight black hair +was cut "tin-basin style;" she wore men's boots, and her petticoats +were nearly up to her knees. + +"Good morning, Nancy!" called Dorcas, blithely, wringing out her +dishcloth. "Come right in, and sit down." + +Nance Pete (in other words, Nancy the wife of Pete, whose surname was +unknown) clumped into the room, and took a chair by the hearth. She +drew forth a short black pipe, looked into it discontentedly, and then +sat putting her thumb in and out of the bowl. + +"You 'ain't got a mite o' terbacker about ye? Hey what?" she asked. + +Dorcas had many a time been shocked at the same demand. This morning, +something humorous about it struck her, and she laughed. + +"You know I haven't, Nancy Pete! Did you mend that hole in your skirt, +as I told you?" + +Nance laboriously drew a back breadth of her coarse plaid skirt round +to the front, and displayed it, without a word. A three-cornered tear +of the kind known as a barn-door had been treated by tying a white +string well outside it, and gathering up the cloth, like a bag. +Dorcas's sense of fitness forbade her to see anything humorous in so +original a device. She stood before the woman in all the moral +excellence of a censor fastidiously clad. + +"O Nancy Pete!" she exclaimed. "How could you?" + +Nance put her cold pipe in her mouth, and began sucking at the +unresponsive stem. + +"You 'ain't got a bite of anything t' eat, have ye?" she asked, +indifferently. + +Dorcas went to the pantry, and brought forth pie, doughnuts and cheese, +and a dish of cold beans. The coffee-pot was waiting on the stove. One +would have said the visitor had been expected. Nance rose and tramped +over to the table. But Dorcas stood firmly in the way. + +"No, Nancy, no! You wait a minute! Are you going to meeting to-day?" + +"I 'ain't had a meal o' victuals for a week!" remarked Nance, +addressing no one in particular. + +"Nancy, are you going to meeting?" + +"Whose seat be I goin' to set in?" inquired Nance, rebelliously, yet +with a certain air of capitulation. + +"You can sit in mine. Haven't you sat there for the last five years? +Now, Nancy, don't hinder me!" + +"Plague take it, then! I'll go!" + +At this expected climax, Dorcas stood aside, and allowed her visitor to +serve herself with beans. When Nance's first hunger had been satisfied, +she began a rambling monologue, of an accustomed sort to which Dorcas +never listened. + +"I went down to peek into the Poorhouse winders, this mornin'. There +they all sut, like rats in a trap. 'Got ye, 'ain't they?' says I. Old +Sal Flint she looked up, an' if there'd been a butcher-knife handy, I +guess she'd ha' throwed it. 'It's that Injun!' says she to Mis' Giles. +'Don't you take no notice!' 'I dunno's I'm an Injun,' says I, 'I dunno +how much Injun I be. I can't look so fur back as that. I dunno's +there's any more Injun in me than there is devil in you!' I says. An' +then the overseer he come out, an' driv' me off. 'You won't git me in +there,' says I to him, 'not so long's I've got my teeth to chaw +sassafras, an' my claws to dig me a holler in the ground!' But when I +come along, he passed me on the road, an' old Sal Flint sut up by him +on the seat, like a bump on a log. I guess he was carryin' her over to +that Pope-o'-Rome meetin' they've got over to Sudleigh." + +Dorcas turned about, in anxious interest. + +"Oh, I wonder if he was! How _can_ folks give up their own meeting for +that?" + +Nance pushed her chair back from the table. + +"Want to see all kinds, I s'pose," she said, slyly. "Guess I'll try it +myself, another Sunday!" + +"Anybody to home?" came a very high and wheezy voice from the doorway. +Dorcas knew that also, and so did Nance Pete. + +"It's that old haddock't lives up on the mountain," said the latter, +composedly, searching in her pocket, and then pulling out a stray bit +of tobacco and pressing it tenderly into her pipe. + +An old man, dressed in a suit of very antique butternut clothes, stood +at the sill, holding forward a bunch of pennyroyal. He was weazened and +dry; his cheeks were parchment color, and he bore the look of an active +yet extreme old age. He was totally deaf. Dorcas advanced toward him, +taking a bright five-cent piece from her pocket. She held it out to +him, and he, in turn, extended the pennyroyal; but before taking it, +she went through a solemn pantomime. She made a feint of accepting the +herb, and then pointed to him and to the road. + +"Yes, yes!" said the old man, irritably. "Bless ye! of course I'm goin' +to meetin'. I'll set by myself, though! Yes, I will! Las' Sunday, I set +with Jont Marshall, an' every time I sung a note, he dug into me with +his elbow, till I thought I should ha' fell out the pew-door. My voice +is jest as good as ever 'twas, an' sixty-five year ago come spring, I +begun to set in the seats." + +The coin and pennyroyal changed ownership, and he tottered away, +chattering to himself in his senile fashion. + +"Look here, you!" he shouted back, his hand on the gate. "Heerd +anything o' that new doctor round here? Well, he's been a-pokin' into +my ears, an' I guess he'd ha' cured me, if anybody could. You know I +don't hear so well's I used to. He went a-peekin' an' a-pryin' round my +ears, as if he'd found a hornet's nest. I dunno what he see there; I +know he shook his head. I guess we shouldn't ha' got no such a man to +settle down here if he wa'n't so asthmy he couldn't git along where he +was. That's the reason he come, they say. He's a bright one!" + +Dorcas left her sweeping, and ran out after him. For the moment, she +forgot his hopeless durance in fleshly walls. + +"Did he look at 'em?" she cried. "Did he? Tell me what he said!" + +"Why, of course I don't hear no better yit!" answered old Simeon, +testily, turning to stump away, "but that ain't no sign I sha'n't! He's +a beauty! I set up now, when he goes by, so's I can hear him when he +rides back. I put a quilt down in the fore-yard, an' when the ground +trimbles a mite, I git up to see if it's his hoss. Once I laid there +till 'leven. He's a beauty, he is!" + +He went quavering down the road, and Dorcas ran back to the house, +elated afresh. An unregarded old man could give him the poor treasure +of his affection, quite unasked. Why should not she? + +Nance was just taking her unceremonious leave. Her pockets bulged with +doughnuts, and she had wrapped half a pie in the Sudleigh "Star," +surreptitiously filched from the woodbox. + +"Well, I guess I'll be gittin' along towards meetin'," she said, in a +tone of unconcern, calculated to allay suspicion. "I'm in hopes to git +a mite o' terbacker out o' Hiram Cole, if he's settin' lookin' at his +pigs, where he is 'most every Sunday. I'll have a smoke afore I go in." + +"Don't you be late!" + +"I'm a-goin' in late, or not at all!" answered Nance, contradictorily. +"My bunnit ain't trimmed on the congregation side, an' I want to give +'em a chance to see it all round. I'm a-goin' up the aisle complete!" + +Dorcas finished her work, and, having tidied her father's room, sat +down by his bedside for the simple rites that made their Sabbath holy. +With the first clanging stroke of the old bell, not half a mile away, +they fell into silence, waiting reverently through the necessary pause +for allowing the congregation to become seated. Then they went through +the service together, from hymn and prayer to the sermon. The parson +had his manuscript ready, and he began reading it, in the pulpit-voice +of his prime. At that moment, some of his old vigor came back to him, +and he uttered the conventional phrases of his church with conscious +power; though so little a man, he had always a sonorous delivery. After +a page or two, his hands began to tremble, and his voice sank. + +"You read a spell, Dorcas," he whispered, in pathetic apology. "I'll +rest me a minute." So Dorcas read, and he listened. Presently he fell +asleep, and she still went on, speaking the words mechanically, and +busy with her own tumultuous thoughts. Amazement possessed her that the +world could be so full of joy to which she had long been deaf. She +could hear the oriole singing in the elm; his song was almost +articulate. The trees waved a little, in a friendly fashion, through +the open windows; friendly in the unspoken kinship of green things to +our thought, yet remote in their own seclusion. One tall, delicate +locust, gowned in summer's finest gear, stirred idly at the top, as if +through an inward motion, untroubled by the wind. Dorcas's mind sought +out the doctor, listening to the sermon in her bare little church, and +she felt quite content. She had entered the first court of love, where +a spiritual possession is enough, and asks no alms of bodily nearness. +When she came to the end of the sermon, her hands fell in her lap, and +she gave herself up without reserve to the idle delight of satisfied +dreaming. The silence pressed upon her father, and he opened his eyes +wide with the startled look of one who comprehends at once the +requirements of time and place. Then, in all solemnity, he put forth +his hands; and Dorcas, bending her head, received the benediction for +the congregation he would never meet again. She roused herself to bring +in his beef-tea, and at the moment of carrying away the tray, a step +sounded on the walk. She knew who it was, and smiled happily. The +lighter foot keeping pace beside it, she did not hear. + +"Dorcas," said her father, "git your bunnit. It's time for +Sunday-school." + +"Yes, father." + +The expected knock came at the door. She went forward, tying on her +bonnet, and her cheeks were pink. The doctor stood on the doorstone, +and Phoebe was with him. He smiled at Dorcas, and put out his hand. +This, according to Tiverton customs, was a warm demonstration at so +meaningless a moment; it seemed a part of his happy friendliness. It +was Phoebe who spoke. + +"I'll stay outside while the doctor goes in. I can sit down here on the +step. Your father needn't know I am here any more than usual. I told +the doctor not to talk, coming up the walk." + +The doctor smiled at her. Phoebe looked like a rose in her Sunday +white, and the elder woman felt a sudden joy in her, untouched by envy +of her youth and bloom. Phoebe only seemed a part of the beautiful new +laws to which the world was freshly tuned, Dorcas coveted nothing; she +envied nobody. She herself possessed all, in usurping her one rich +kingdom. + +"All right," she said. "The doctor can step in now, and see father. +I'll hurry back, as soon as Sunday-school is over." She walked away, +glancing happily at the flowers on either side of the garden-path. She +wanted to touch all their leaves, because, last night, he had praised +them. + +Returning, when her hour was over, she walked very fast; her heart was +waking into hunger, and she feared he might be gone. But he was there, +sitting on the steps beside Phoebe, and when the gate swung open, they +did not hear. Phoebe's eyes were dropped, and she was poking her +parasol into the moss-encrusted path; the doctor was looking into her +face, and speaking quite eagerly. He heard Dorcas first, and sprang up. +His eyes were so bright and forceful in the momentary gleam of meeting +hers, that she looked aside, and tried to rule her quickening breath. + +"Miss Dorcas," said he, "I'm telling this young lady she mustn't forget +to eat her dinner at school. I find she quite ignores it, if she has +sums to do, or blots to erase. Why, it's shocking." + +"Of course she must eat her dinner!" said Dorcas, tenderly. "Why, yes, +of course! Phoebe, do as he tells you. He knows." + +Phoebe blushed vividly. + +"Does he?" she answered, laughing. "Well, I'll see. Good-by, Miss +Dorcas. I'll come in for Friday night meeting, if I don't before. +Good-by." + +"I'll walk along with you," said the doctor. "If you'll let me," he +added, humbly. + +Phoebe turned away with a little toss of her head, and he turned, too, +breaking a sprig of southernwood. Dorcas was glad to treasure the last +sight of him putting to his lips the fragrant herb she had bruised for +his sake. It seemed to carry over into daylight the joy of the richer +night; it was like seeing the silken thread on which her pearls were +strung. She called to them impetuously,-- + +"Pick all the flowers you want to, both of you!" Then she went in, but +she said aloud to herself, "They're all for you--" and she whispered +his name. + +"Dorcas," said her father, "the doctor's been here quite a spell. He +says there was a real full meetin.' Even Nancy Pete, Dorcas! I feel as +if my ministration had been abundantly blessed." + +Then, in that strangest summer in Dorcas's life, time seemed to stand +still. The happiest of all experiences had befallen her; not a +succession of joys, but a permanent delight in one unchanging mood. The +evening of his coming had been the first day; and the evening and the +morning had ever since been the same in glory. He came often, sometimes +with Phoebe, sometimes alone; and, being one of the men on whom women +especially lean, Dorcas soon found herself telling him all the poor +trials of her colorless life. Nothing was too small for his notice. He +liked her homely talk of the garden and the church, and once gave up an +hour to spading a plot where she wanted a new round bed. Dorcas +had meant to put lilies there, but she remembered he loved +ladies'-delights; so she gathered them all together from the nooks and +corners of the garden, and set them there, a sweet, old-fashioned +company. "That's for thoughts!" She took to wearing flowers now, not +for the delight of him who loved them, but merely as a part of her +secret litany of worship. She slept deeply at night, and woke with calm +content, to speak one name in the way that forms a prayer. He was her +one possession; all else might be taken away from her, but the feeling +inhabiting her heart must live, like the heart itself. + +By the time September had yellowed all the fields, there came a week +when Phoebe's aunt, down at the Hollow, was known to be very ill; so +Phoebe no longer came to care for the parson through the Sunday-school +hour. But the doctor appeared, instead. + +"I'm Phoebe," he said, laughing, when Dorcas met him at the door. "She +can't come; so I told her I'd take her place." + +These were the little familiar deeds which gilded his name among the +people. Dorcas had been growing used to them. But on the' next Sunday +morning, when she was hurrying about her kitchen, making early +preparations for the cold mid-day meal, a daring thought assailed her. +Phoebe might come to-day, and if the doctor also dropped in, she would +ask them both to dinner. There was no reason for inviting him alone; +besides, it was happier to sit by, leaving him to some one else. Then +the two would talk, and she, with no responsibility, could listen and +look, and hug her secret joy. + +"I ain't a-goin' to meetin' to-day!" came Nance Pete's voice from the +door. She stood there, smoking prosperously, and took out her pipe, +with a jaunty motion, at the words. "I stopped at Kelup Rivers', on the +way over, an' they gi'n me a good breakfast, an' last week, that young +doctor gi'n me a whole paper o' fine-cut. I ain't a-goin' to meetin'! +I'm goin' to se' down under the old elm, an' have a real good smoke." + +"O Nancy!" Dorcas had no dreams so happy that such an avalanche could +not sweep them aside. "Now, do! Why, you don't want me to think you go +to church just because I save you some breakfast!" + +Nance turned away, and put up her chin to watch a wreath of smoke. + +"I dunno why I don't," said she. "The world's nothin' but buy an' sell. +You know it, an' I know it!' 'Tain't no use coverin' on't up. You heerd +the news? That old fool of a Sim Barker's dead. The doctor, sut up all +night with him, an' I guess now he's layin' on him out. I wouldn't ha' +done it! I'd ha' wropped him up in his old coat, an' glad to git rid on +him! Well, he won't cheat ye out o' no more five-cent pieces, to +squander in terbacker. You might save 'em up for me, now he's done +for!" Nance went stalking away to the gate, flaunting a visible air of +fine, free enjoyment, the product of tobacco and a bright morning. +Dorcas watched her, annoyed, and yet quite helpless; she was outwitted, +and she knew it. Perhaps she sorrowed less deeply over the loss to her +pensioner's immortal soul, thus taking holiday from spiritual +discipline, than the serious problem involved in subtracting one from +the congregation. Would a Sunday-school picnic constitute a bribe worth +mentioning? Perhaps not, so far as Nance was concerned; but her own +class might like it, and on that young blood she depended, to vivify +the church. + +A bit of pink came flashing along the country road. It was Phoebe, +walking very fast. + +"Dear heart!" said Dorcas, aloud to herself, as the girl came hurriedly +up the path. She was no longer a pretty girl, a nice girl, as the +commendation went. Her face had gained an exalted lift; she was +beautiful. She took Miss Dorcas by the arms, and laughed the laugh that +knows itself in the right, and so will not be shy. + +"Miss Dorcas," she said, "I've got to tell you right out, or I can't do +it at all. What should you say if I told you I was married?--to the +doctor?" + +Dorcas looked at her as if she did not hear. + +"It's begun to get round," went on Phoebe, "and I wanted to give you +the word myself. You see, auntie was sick, and when he was there so +much, she grew to depend on him, and one day, when we'd been engaged a +week, she said, why shouldn't we be married, and he come right to the +house to live? He's only boarding, you know. And nothing to do but it +must be done right off, and so I--I said 'yes! And we were married, +Thursday. Auntie's better, and O Miss Dorcas! I think we're going to +have a real good time together." She threw her arms about Dorcas, and +put down her shining brown head upon them. + +Dorcas tried to answer. When she did speak, her voice sounded thin and +faint, and she wondered confusedly if Phoebe could hear. + +"I didn't know--" she said. "I didn't know--" + +"Why, no, of course not!" returned Phoebe, brightly. "Nobody did. You'd +have been the first, but I didn't want the engagement talked about till +auntie was better. Oh, I believe that's his horse's step! I'll run out, +and ride home with him. You come, too, Miss Dorcas, and just say a +word!" + +Dorcas loosened the girl's arms about her, and, bending to the bright +head, kissed it twice. Phoebe, grown careless in her joy, ran down the +walk to stop the approaching wagon; and when she looked round, Dorcas +had shut the door and gone in. She waited a moment for her to reappear, +and then, remembering the doctor had had no breakfast, she stepped into +the wagon, and they drove happily away. + +Dorcas went to her bedroom, touching the walls, on the way, with her +groping hands. She sat down on the floor there, and rested her head +against a chair. Once only did she rouse herself, and that was to go +into the kitchen and set away the great bowl of _blanc-mange_ she had +been making for dinner. She had not strained it all, and the sea-weed +was drying on the sieve. Then she went back into the bedroom, and +pulled down the green slat curtains with a shaking hand. Twice her +father called her to bring his sermons, but she only answered, "Yes, +father!" in dull acquiescence, and did not move. She was benumbed, +sunken in a gulf of shame, too faint and cold to save herself by +struggling. Her poor innocent little fictions made themselves into +lurid writings on her brain. She had called him hers while another +woman held his vows, and she was degraded. Her soul was wrecked as +truly as if the whole world knew it, and could cry to her "Shame!" and +"Shame!" The church-bells clanged out their judgment of her. A new +thought awakened her to a new despair. She was not fit to teach in +Sunday-school any more. Her girls, her innocent, sweet girls! There was +contagion in her very breath. They must be saved from it; else when +they were old women like her, some sudden vice of tainted blood might +rise up in them, no one would know why, and breed disease and shame. +She started to her feet. Her knees trembling under her, she ran out of +the house, and hid herself behind the great lilac-bush by the gate. + +Deacon Caleb Rivers came jogging past, late for church, but driving +none the less moderately. His placid-faced wife sat beside him; and +Dorcas, stepping out to stop them, wondered, with a wild pang of +perplexity over the things of this world, if 'Mandy Rivers had ever +known the feeling of death in the soul. Caleb pulled up. + +"I can't come to Sunday-school, to-day," called Dorcas, stridently. +"You tell them to give Phoebe my class. And ask her if she'll keep it. +I sha'n't teach any more." + +"Ain't your father so well?" asked Mrs. Rivers, sympathetically, +bending forward and smoothing her mitts. Dorcas caught at the reason. + +"I sha'n't leave him any more," she said. "You tell 'em so. You fix +it." + +Caleb drove on, and she went back into the house, shrinking under the +brightness of the air which seemed to quiver so before her eyes. She +went into her father's room, where he was awake and wondering. + +"Seems to me I heard the bells," he said, in his gentle fashion. "Or +have we had the 'hymns, an' got to the sermon?" + +Dorcas fell on her knees by the bedside. + +"Father," she began, with difficulty, her cheek laid on the bedclothes +beside his hand, "there was a sermon about women that are lost. What +was that?" + +"Why, yes," answered the parson, rousing to an active joy in his work. +"'Neither do I condemn thee!' That was it. You git it, Dorcas! We must +remember such poor creatur's; though, Lord be praised! there ain't many +round here. We must remember an' pray for 'em." + +But Dorcas did not rise. + +"Is there any hope for them, father?" she asked, her voice muffled. +"Can they be saved?" + +"Why, don't you remember the poor creatur' that come here an' asked +that very question because she heard I said the Lord was pitiful? Her +baby was born out in the medder, an' died the next day; an' she got up +out of her sickbed at the Poorhouse, an' come totterin' up here, to ask +if there was any use in her sayin', 'Lord, be merciful to me, a +sinner!' An' your mother took her in, an' laid her down on this very +bed, an' she died here. An' your mother hil' her in her arms when she +died. You ask her if she didn't!" The effort of continuous talking +wearied him, and presently he dozed off. Once he woke, and Dorcas was +still on her knees, her head abased. "Dorcas!" he said, and she +answered, "Yes, father!" without raising it; and he slept again. The +bell struck, for the end of service. The parson was awake. He stretched +out his hand, and it trembled a moment and then fell on his daughter's +lowly head. + +"The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ--" the parson said, and went +clearly on to the solemn close. + +"Father," said Dorcas. "Father!" She seemed to be crying to One afar. +"Say the other verse, too. What He told the woman." + +His hand still on her head, the parson repeated, with a wistful +tenderness stretching back over the past,-- + +"'Neither do I condemn thee; go, and sin no more.'" + + + + +NANCY BOYD'S LAST SERMON + + +It was the lonesome time of the year: not November, that accomplishment +of a gracious death, but the moment before the conscious spring, when +watercourses have not yet stirred in awakening, and buds are only +dreamed of by trees still asleep but for the sweet trouble within their +wood; when the air finds as yet no response to the thrill beginning to +creep where roots lie blind in the dark; when life is at the one dull, +flat instant before culmination and movement. I had gone down +post-haste to my well-beloved Tiverton, in response to the news sent me +by a dear countrywoman, that Nancy Boyd, whom I had not seen since my +long absence in Europe, was dying of "galloping consumption." Nancy +wanted to bid me good-by. Hiram Cole met me, lean-jawed, dust-colored, +wrinkled as of old, with the overalls necessitated by his "sleddin'" at +least four inches too short. Not the Pyramids themselves were such +potent evidence that time may stand still, withal, as this lank, +stooping figure, line for line exactly what it had been five years +before. Hiram helped me into the pung, took his place beside me, and +threw a conversational "huddup" to the rakish-looking sorrel colt. We +dashed sluing away down the country road, and then I turned to look at +my old friend. He was steadfastly gazing at the landscape ahead, the +while he passed one wiry hand over his face, to smooth out its +broadening smile. He was glad to see me, but his private code of +decorum forbade the betrayal of any such "shaller" emotion. + +"Well, Hiram," I began, "Tiverton looks exactly the same, doesn't it? +And poor Nancy, how is she?" + +"Nancy's pretty low," said Hiram, drawing his mitten over the hand that +had been used to iron out his smile, and giving critical attention to +the colt's off hind-leg. "She hil' her own all winter, but now, come +spring, she's breakin' up mighty fast. They don't cal'late she'll live +more'n a day or two." + +"Her poor husband! How will he get along without her!" + +Hiram turned upon me with vehemence. + +"Why, don't you know?" said he. "'Ain't nobody told ye? She 'ain't got +no husband." + +"What? Is the Cap'n dead?" + +"Dead? Bless ye, he's divorced from Nancy, an' married another woman, +two year ago come this May!" + +I was amazed, and Hiram looked at me with the undisguised triumph of +one who has news to sell, be it good or bad. + +"But Nancy has written me!" I said. "She told me the neighborhood +gossip; why didn't she tell me that?" + +"Pride, I s'pose, pride," said Hiram. "You can't be sure how misery'll +strike folks. It's like a September gale; the best o' barns'll blow +down, an' some rickety shanty'll stan' the strain. But there! Nancy's +had more to bear from the way she took her troubles than from the +troubles themselves. Ye see, 'twas this way. Cap'n Jim had his own +reasons for wantin' to git rid of her, an' I guess there was a time +when he treated her pretty bad. I guess he as good's turned her out o' +house an' home, an' when he sued for divorce for desertion, she never +said a word; an' he got it, an' up an' married, as soon as the law'd +allow, Nancy never opened her head, all through it. She jest settled +down, with a bed an' a chair or two, in that little house she owned +down by Wilier Brook, an' took in tailorin' an' mendin'. One spell, she +bound shoes. The whole town was with her till she begun carryin' on +like a crazed creatur', as she did arterwards." + +My heart sank. Poor Nancy! if she had really incurred the public scorn, +it must have been through dire extremity. + +"Ye see," Hiram continued, "folks were sort o' tried with her from the +beginnin'. You know what a good outfit she had from her mother's +side,--bureaus, an' beddin', an' everything complete? Well, she left it +all right there in the house, for Jim to use, an' when he brought his +new woman home, there the things set jest the same, an' he never said a +word. I don't deny he ought to done different, but then, if Nancy +wouldn't look out for her own interests, you can't blame him so much, +now can ye? But the capsheaf come about a year ago, when Nancy had a +smart little sum o' money left her,--nigh onto a hunderd dollars. Jim +he'd got into debt, an' his oxen died, an' one thing an' another, he +was all wore out, an' had rheumatic fever; an' if you'll b'lieve it, +Nancy she went over an' done the work, an' let his wife nuss him. She +wouldn't step foot into the bedroom, they said; she never see Jim once, +but there she was, slavin' over the wash-tub and ironin'-board,--an' as +for that money, I guess it went for doctor's stuff an' what all, for +Jim bought a new yoke of oxen in the spring." + +"But the man! the other wife! how could they?" + +"Oh, Jim's wife's a pretty tough-hided creatur', an' as for him, I +al'ays thought the way Nancy behaved took him kind o' by surprise, an' +he had to give her her head, an' let her act her pleasure. But it made +a sight o' town talk. Some say Nancy ain't quite bright to carry on so, +an' the women-folks seem to think she's a good deal to blame, one way +or another. Anyhow, she's had a hard row to hoe. Here we be, an' +there's Hannah at the foreroom winder. You won't think o' goin' over to +Nancy's till arter supper, will ye?" + +When I sat alone beside Nancy's bed, that night, I had several sides of +her sad story in mind, but none of them lessened the dreariness of the +tragedy. Before my brief acquaintance with her, Nancy was widely known +as a travelling-preacher, one who had "the power." She must have been a +strangely attractive creature, in those early days, alert, intense, +gifted with such a magnetic reaching into another life that it might +well set her aside from the commoner phases of a common day, and +crowned, as with flame, by an unceasing aspiration for the highest. At +thirty, she married a dashing sailor, marked by the sea, even to the +rings in his ears; and when I knew them, they were solidly comfortable +and happy, in a way very reassuring to one who could understand Nancy's +temperament; for she was one of those who, at every step, are flung +aside from the world's sharp corners, bruised and bleeding. + +As to the storm and shipwreck of her life, I learned no particulars +essentially new. Evidently her husband had suddenly run amuck, either +from the monotony of his inland days, or from the strange passion he +had conceived for a woman who was Nancy's opposite. + +That night, I sat in the poor, bare little room, beside the billowing +feather-bed where Nancy lay propped upon pillows, and gazing with +bright, glad eyes into my face, one thin little hand clutching mine +with the grasp of a soul who holds desperately to life. And yet Nancy +was not clinging to life itself; she only seemed to be, because she +clung to love. + +"I'm proper glad to see ye," she kept saying, "proper glad." + +We were quite alone. The fire burned cheerily in the kitchen stove, and +a cheap little clock over the mantel ticked unmercifully fast; it +seemed in haste for Nancy to be gone. The curtains were drawn, lest the +thrifty window-plants should be frostbitten, and several tumblers of +jelly on the oilcloth-covered table bore witness that the neighbors had +put aside their moral scruples and their social delicacy, and were +giving of their best, albeit to one whose ways were not their ways. But +Nancy herself was the centre and light of the room,--so frail, so +clean, with her plain nightcap and coarse white nightgown, and the +small checked shawl folded primly over her shoulders. Thin as she was, +she looked scarcely older than when I had seen her, five years ago; yet +since then she had walked through a blacker valley than the one before +her. + +"Now don't you git all nerved up when I cough," she said, lying back +exhausted after a paroxysm. "I've got used to it; it don't trouble me +no more'n a mosquiter. I want to have a real good night now, talkin' +over old times." + +"You must try to sleep," I said. "The doctor will blame me, if I let +you talk." + +"No, he won't," said Nancy, shrewdly. "He knows I 'ain't got much time +afore me, an' I guess he wouldn't deny me the good on't. That's why I +sent for ye, dear; I 'ain't had anybody I could speak out to in five +year, an' I wanted to speak out, afore I died. Do you remember how you +used to come over an' eat cold b'iled dish for supper, that last summer +you was down here?" + +"Oh, don't I, Nancy! there never was anything like it. Such cold +potatoes--" + +"B'iled in the pot-liquor!" she whispered, a knowing gleam in her blue +eyes. "That's the way; on'y everybody don't know. An' do you remember +the year we had greens way into the fall, an' I wouldn't tell you what +they was? Well, I will, now; there was chickweed, an' pusley, an' +mustard, an' Aaron's-rod, an' I dunno what all." + +"Not Aaron's-rod, Nancy! it never would have been so good!" + +"It's truth an' fact! I b'iled Aaron's-rod, an' you eat it. That was +the year Mis' Blaisdell was mad because you had so many meals over to +my house, an' said it was the last time she'd take summer boarders an' +have the neighbors feed 'em." + +"They were good old days, Nancy!" + +"I guess they were! yes, indeed, I guess so! Now, dear, I s'pose you've +heard what I've been through, sence you went away?" + +I put the thin hand to my cheek. + +"Yes," I said, "I have heard." + +"Well, now, I want to tell you the way it 'pears to me. You'll hear the +neighbors' side, an' arter I'm gone, they'll tell you I was +under-witted or bold. They've been proper good to me sence I've been +sick, but law! what do they know about it, goin' to bed at nine +o'clock, an' gittin' up to feed the chickens an' ride to meetin' with +their husbands? No more'n the dead! An' so I want to tell ye my story, +myself. Now, don't you mind my coughing dear! It don't hurt, to speak +of, an' I feel better arter it. + +"Well, I dunno where to begin. The long an' short of it was, dear, +James he got kind o' uneasy on land, an' then he was tried with me, an' +then he told me, one night, when he spoke out, that he didn't care +about me as he used to, an' he never should, an' we couldn't live no +longer under the same roof. He was goin' off the next day to sea, or to +the devil, he said, so he needn't go crazy seein' Mary Ann Worthen's +face lookin' at him all the time. It ain't any use tryin' to tell how I +felt. Some troubles ain't no more 'n a dull pain, an' some are like +cuts an' gashes. You can feel your heart drop, drop, like water off the +eaves. Mine dropped for a good while arter that. Well, you see I'd been +through the fust stages of it. I'd been eat up by jealousy, an' I'd +slaved like a dog to git him back; but now it had got beyond such +folderol. He was in terrible trouble, an' I'd got to git him out. An' I +guess 'twas then that I begun to feel as if I was his mother, instid of +his wife. 'Jim,' says I, (somehow I have to Say 'James,' now we're +separated!) 'don't you fret. I'll go off an' leave ye, an' you can get +clear o' me accordin' to law, if you want to. I'm sure you can. I +sha'n't care.' He turned an' looked at me, as if I was crazed or he was +himself, 'You won't care?' he says. 'No,' says I, 'I sha'n't care.' I +said it real easy, for 'twas true. Somehow, I'd got beyond carin'. My +heart dropped blood, but I couldn't bear to have him in trouble. 'They +al'ays told me I was cut out for an old maid,' I says, 'an' I guess I +be. Housekeepin' 's a chore, anyway. You let all the stuff set right +here jest as we've had it, an' ask Cap'n Fuller to come an' bring his +chist; an' I'll settle down in the Willer Brook house an' make +button-holes. It's real pretty work.' You see, the reason I was so high +for it was 't I knew if he went to sea, he'd git in with a swearin', +drinkin' set, as he did afore, an' in them days such carryin's-on were +dretful to me. If I'd known he'd marry, I dunno what course I should +ha' took; for nothin' could ha' made that seem right to me, arter all +had come and gone. But I jest thought how James was a dretful handy man +about the house, an' I knew he set by Cap'n Fuller. The Cap'n 'ain't no +real home, you know, an' I thought they'd admire to bach it together." + +"Did you ever wonder whether you had done right? Did you ever think it +would have been better for him to keep his promises to you? For him to +be unhappy?" + +A shade of trouble crossed her face. + +"I guess I did!" she owned. "At fust, I was so anxious to git out o' +his way, I never thought of anything else; but when I got settled down +here, an' had all my time for spec'latin' on things, I was a good deal +put to 't whether I'd done the best anybody could. But I didn't reason +much, in them days; I jest felt. All was, I couldn't bear to have James +tied to me when he'd got so's to hate me. Well, then he married--" + +"Was she a good woman?" + +"Good enough, yes; a leetle mite coarse-grained, but well-meanin' all +through. Well, now, you know the neighbors blamed me for lettin' her +have my things. Why, bless you, I didn't need 'em! An' Jim had used 'em +so many years, he'd ha' missed 'em if they'd been took away. Then he +never was forehanded, an' how could he ha' furnished a house all over +ag'in, I'd like to know? The neighbors never understood. The amount of +it was, they never was put in jest such a place, any of 'em." + +"O Nancy, Nancy!" I said, "you cared for just one thing, and it was +gone. You didn't care for the tables and chairs that were left behind!" + +Two tears came, and dimmed her bright blue eyes. Her firm, delicate +mouth quivered. + +"Yes," she said, "you see how 'twas. I knew you would. Well, arter he +was married, there was a spell when 'twas pretty tough. Sometimes I +couldn't hardly help goin' over there by night an' peekin' into the +winder, an' seein' how they got along. I went jest twice. The fust time +was late in the fall, an' she was preservin' pears by lamplight. I +looked into the kitchin winder jest as she was bendin' over the stove, +tryin' the syrup, an' he was holdin' the light for her to see. I dunno +what she said, but 'twas suthin' that made 'em both laugh out, an' then +they turned an' looked at one another, proper pleased. I dunno why, but +it took right hold o' me, an' I started runnin' an' I never stopped +till I got in, here an' onto my own bed. I thought 'twould ha' been +massiful if death had took me that night, but I'm glad it didn't, dear, +I'm glad it didn't! I shouldn't ha' seen ye, if it had, an' there's a +good many things I shouldn't ha' had time to study out. You jest put a +mite o' cayenne pepper in that cup, an' turn some hot water on it. It +kind o' warms me up." + +After a moment's rest, she began again. + +"The next time I peeked was the last, for that night they'd had some +words, an' they both set up straight as a mack'rel, an' wouldn't speak +to one another. That hurt me most of anything. I never've got over the +feelin' that I was James's mother, an' that night I felt sort o' +bruised all through, as if some stranger'd been hurtin' him. So I never +went spyin' on 'em no more. I felt as if I couldn't stan' it. But when +I went to help her with the work, that time he was sick, I guess the +neighbors thought I hadn't any sense of how a right-feelin' woman ought +to act. I guess they thought I was sort o' coarse an' low, an' didn't +realize what I'd, been through. Dear, don't you never believe it. The +feelin' that's between husband an' wife's like a live creatur', an' +when he told me that night that he didn't prize me no more, he wounded +it; an' when he married the other woman, he killed it dead. If he'd ha' +come back to me then, an' swore he was the same man I married, I could +ha' died for him, jest as I would this minute, but he never should ha' +touched me. But suthin' had riz up in the place o' the feelin' I had +fust, so't I never could ha' helped doin' for him, any more'n if he'd +been my own child." + +"'In the resurrection, they neither marry nor are given in marriage!'" + +"I guess that's it," said Nancy. "On'y you have to live through a good +deal afore you understand it. Well, now, dear, I'm nearin' the end. +There's one thing that's come to me while I've been livin' through +this, that I 'ain't never heard anybody mention; an' I want you to +remember it, so's you can tell folks that are in great trouble, the way +I've been. I've been thinkin' on't out that there's jest so much of +everything in the world,--so much gold, so much silver, so many +di'monds. You can't make no more nor no less. All you can do is to pass +'em about from hand to hand, so't sometimes here'll be somebody that's +rich, an' then it'll slip away from him, an' he'll be poor. Now, +accordin' to my lights, it's jes' so with love. There's jest so much, +an' when it's took away from you, an' passed over to somebody else, +it's alive, it's there, same as ever it was. So 't you ain't goin' to +say it's all holler an' empty, this world. You're goin' to say, 'Well, +it's som'er's, if 'tain't with me!'" + +Nancy had straightened herself, without the support of her pillows. Her +eyes were bright. A faint flush had come upon her cheeks. A doctor +would have told me that my devoted friendship had not saved me from +being a wretched nurse. + +"My home was broke up," she went on, "but there's a nice, pretty house +there jest the same. There's a contented couple livin' in it, an' what +if the wife ain't me? It ain't no matter. P'r'aps it's a lot better +that somebody else should have it, somebody that couldn't git along +alone; an' not me, that can see the rights o' things. Jest so much +love, dear--don't you forgit that--no matter where 'tis! An' James +could take his love away from me, but the Lord A'mighty himself can't +take mine from him. An' so 'tis, the world over. You can al'ays love +folks, an' do for 'em, even if your doin' 's only breakin' your heart +an' givin' 'em up. An' do you s'pose there's any sp'ere o' life where +I sha'n't be allowed to do somethin' for James? I guess not, dear, I +guess not, even if it's only keepin' away from him." + +Nancy lived three days, in a state of delighted content with us and our +poor ministrations; and only once did we approach the subject of that +solemn night. As the end drew near, I became more and more anxious to +know if she had a wish unfulfilled, and at length I ventured to ask her +softly, when we were alone,-- + +"Would you like to see him?" + +Her bright eyes looked at me, in a startled way. + +"No, dear, no," she said, evidently surprised that I could ask it. +"Bless you, no!" + + + + +STROLLERS IN TIVERTON + + +In Tiverton, when reminiscences are in order, we go back to one very +rich year; then the circus and strolling players came to town, and the +usual camp-meeting was followed by an epidemic of scarlet fever, which +might have stood forth as the judgment of heaven, save that the newly +converted were stricken first and undoubtedly fared hardest. Hiram Cole +said it was because they'd "got all their nerve-juice used up, +hollerin' hallelujah." But that I know not. This theory of nerve-juice, +was a favorite one with Hiram: he contended that it had a powerful hand +in determining the results of presidential elections; and, indeed, in +swaying the balance of power among the nations of the earth. + +Even in the early spring, there had been several cases of fever at +Sudleigh; and so, when the circus made application for a license to +take possession of the town, according to olden custom, the public +authorities very wisely refused. Tiverton, however, was wroth at this +arbitrary restriction. For more years than I can say, she had driven +over to Sudleigh "to see the caravan;" and now, through some +crack-brained theory of contagion, the caravan was to be barred out. We +never really believed that the town-fathers had taken their highhanded +measure on account of scarlet fever. We saw in it some occult political +significance, and referred ominously to the butter we carried there on +Saturdays, and to the possibility that, if they cast us off, a +separation might affect them far more seriously than it would us. But +to our loud-voiced delight, the caravan, finding that it was to be +within hailing distance, and unwilling to pass on without further +tribute, extended the sceptre to Tiverton herself; and Brad Freeman +joyfully discussed the project of making a circus ground of his old +race-course, which, he declared, he had purposed planting with tobacco. +We never knew whether to believe this or not, though we had many times +previously gone over Brad's calculation, by which he figured that he +could sell at least three tons of fine-cut from one summer's produce. +To that specious logic, we always listened with unwilling admiration; +but when we could shake off the glamour inseparable from a problem made +to come out right, we were accustomed to turn to one another, demanding +with cold scepticism, "Where'd he git his seed?" + +In spite of the loss of this potential crop, however, Brad was +magnanimously willing to let his field; and Tiverton held her head +high, in the prospect of having a circus of her own. We intimated that +it would undoubtedly be fair weather, owing to our superior moral +desert as compared with that of Sudleigh, which was annually afflicted +with what had long been known as "circus-weather." For Sudleigh had +sinned, and Nature was thenceforth deputed to pay her back, in good old +Hebrew style. One circus-day--before the war, as I believe--Sudleigh +fenced up the spring in a corner of her grounds, and with a foolish +thrift sold ice-water to the crowd, at a penny a glass. Tiverton was +furious, and so, apparently, were the just heavens; for every +circus-day thereafter it rained, in a fashion calculated to urge any +forehanded Noah into immediate action. We of Tiverton never allowed our +neighbor to forget her criminal lapse. When, on circus-afternoon, we +met one of the rival township, dripping as ourselves, we said, with all +the cheerfulness of conscious innocence,-- + +"Water enough for everybody, to-day! Guess ye won't have to peddle none +out!" + +"Seems to be comin' down pretty fast! You better build a platfoam over +that spring! Go hard with ye if't overflowed!" + +Strange to say, Sudleigh seemed to regard these time-licensed remarks +with little favor; she even intimated that they smacked of the past, +and were wearisome in her nostrils. But not for that did we halt in +their distribution. Moreover, we flaunted our domestic loyalty by +partaking of no Sudleigh fluid within the grounds. We carried tea, +coffee, lemonade, milk, an ambitious variety of drinks, in order that +even our children might be spared the public disgrace of tasting +Sudleigh water; and it was a part of our excellent fooling to invite +every Sudleighian to drink with us. Even the virtues, however, spare +their votaries no pang; and in every family, this unbending fealty +resulted in the individual members' betaking themselves to the pump or +well, immediately on getting home, even before attempting to unharness. +About five o'clock, on circus-afternoon, there would be a general +rumbling of buckets and creaking of sweeps, while a chorus rose to +heaven, "My! I was 'most choked!" + +But our _fete_-day dawned bright and speckless. We rose before three +o'clock, every man, woman and child of us, to see the procession come +into town. It would leave the railway at Sudleigh, and we had a faint +hope of its forming in regulation style, and sweeping into Tiverton, a +blaze of glittering chariots surmounted by queens of beauty, of lazy +beasts of the desert sulking in their cages, and dainty-stepping +horses, ridden by bold amazons. For a time, the expectation kept us +bright and hopeful, although most of us had only taken a "cold bite" +before starting; but as the eastern saffron pencilled one line of light +and the bird chorus swelled in piercing glory, we grew cross and all +unbefitting the smiling morn. Only Dilly Joyce looked sunshiny as ever, +for she had no domestic cares to beckon her; she and Nance Pete, who +was in luck that day, having a full pipe. Dilly had nestled into a +rock, curved in the form of a chair, and lay watching the eastern sky, +a faint smile of pleasure parting her lips when the saffron hardened +into gold. + +"Nice, dear, ain't it?" she said, as I paused a moment near her, "I +al'ays liked the side o' the road. But it's kind o' disturbin' to have +so much talk. I dunno's you can help it, though, where there's so many +people. Most o' the time, I'm better on't to home, but I did want to +see an elephant near to!" + +The sky broadened into light, and the birds jeered at us, poor, +draggled folk who lived in boxes and were embarrassed by the morn. The +men grew nervous, for milking-time was near, and in imagination I have +no doubt they heard the lowing of reproachful kine. + +"Well, 'tain't no use," said Eli Pike, rising from the stone-wall, and +stretching himself, with decision. "I've got to 'tend to them cows, +whether or no!" And he strolled away on the country-road, without a +look behind. Most of the other men, as in honor bound, followed him; +and the women, with loud-voiced protest against an obvious necessity, +trailed after them, to strain the milk. Only we who formed the gypsy +element were left behind. + +"I call it a real shame!" announced Mrs. Pike, gathering her summer +shawl about her shoulders, and stepping away with an offended dignity +such as no delinquent elephant could have faced. "I warrant ye, they +wouldn't ha' treated Sudleigh so. They wouldn't ha' dared!" + +"I dunno's Sudleigh's any more looked up to'n we be," said Caleb +Rivers, who had been so tardy in bestirring himself that he formed a +part of the women's corps. "I guess, if the truth was known, Tiverton +covers more land'n Sudleigh does, on'y Sudleigh's all humped up +together into a quart bowl. I guess there's countries that 'ain't heard +o' Sudleigh, an' wouldn't stan' much in fear if they had!" + +And so Tiverton dispersed, unamiably, and with its public pride hurt to +the quick. I tried to take pattern by Dilly Joyce, and steal from +nature a little of the wonderful filial enjoyment which came to her +unsought. When Dilly watched the sky, I did, also; when she brightened +at sound of a bird hitherto silent, I tried to set down his notes in my +memory; and when she closed her eyes, and shut out the world, to think +it over, I did the same. But the result was different. Probably Dilly +opened hers again upon the lovely earth, but I drifted off into +dreamland, and only awoke, two hours after, to find the scenes +marvellously changed. It was bright, steady morning, the morning come +to stay. Tiverton had performed its dairy rites, and returned again, +enlivened by a cup of tea; and oh, incredible joy! there was a grunting +and panting, a swaying of mighty flanks. The circus was approaching, +from Sudleigh way. Instantly I was alert and on my feet, for it would +have been impossible to miss the contagion of the general joy. I knew +how we felt, not as individuals, but as Tivertonians alone. We were +tolerant potentates, waiting, in gracious majesty, to receive a +deputation from the farther East. It grieves me much to stop here and +confess, with a necessary honesty, that this was but a sorry circus, +gauged by the conventional standards; else, I suppose, it had never +come to Tiverton at all. The circus-folk had evidently dressed for +travelling, not for us. The chariots, some of them still hooded in +canvas, were very small and tarnished. There were but three elephants, +two camels, and a most meagre display of those alluring cages made to +afford even the careless eye a sudden, quickening glimpse of restless, +tawny form, or slothful hulk within. Yet why depreciate the raw +material whereof Fancy has power divine to build her altogether perfect +heights? Here was the plain, homely setting of our plainer lives, and +right into the midst of it had come the East. The elephants affected us +most; we probably thought little about the immemorial mystery, the +vague, occult tradition wrapped in that mouse-colored hide; but even to +our dense Western imagination such quickening suggestion was vividly +apparent. We knew our world; usually it seemed to us the only one, even +when we looked at the stars. But at least one other had been created, +and before us appeared its visible sign,--my lord the elephant! There +he was, swaying along, conscious philosopher, conscious might, yet +holding his omniscience in the background, and keeping a wary eye out +for the peanuts with which we simple country souls had not provided +ourselves. There was one curious thing about it all. We had seen the +circus at Sudleigh, as I have said, yet the fact of entertaining it +within our borders made it seem exactly as if we had never laid eyes +upon it before. This was our caravan, and God Almighty had created the +elephant for us. Dilly Joyce slipped her hand quickly in mine and +pressed it hard. She was quite pale. Yet it was she who acted upon the +first practical thought. She recovered herself before my lord went by, +took a ginger cookie from her pocket, and put it into Davie Tolman's +hand. + +"Here," she said, pushing him forward, "you go an' offer it to him. +He'll take it. See'f he don't!" + +Davie accepted the mission with joy, and persisted in it until he found +himself close beside that swaying bulk, and saw the long trunk curved +enticingly toward him. Then he uttered one explosive howl, and fell +back on the very toes of us who were pressing forward to partake, by +right of sympathy, in the little drama. + +"Lordy Massy, keep still!" cried out Nance Pete; and she snatched him +up bodily, and held him out to the elephant. I believe my own pang at +that moment to have been general. I forgot that elephants are not +carnivorous, and shuddered back, under the expectation of seeing Davie +devoured, hide and hair. But Nance had the address to stiffen the +little arm, and my lord took the cookie, still clutched in the +despairing hand, and passed on. Then Davie wiped his eyes, after +peeping stealthily about to see whether any one was disposed to jeer at +him, and took such courage that he posed, ever after, as the hero of +the day. + +The procession had nearly passed us when we saw a sight calculated to +animate us anew with a justifiable pride. Sudleigh itself, its young +men and maidens, old men and children, was following the circus into +our town. It would not have a circus of its own, forsooth, but it would +share in ours! We, as by one consent, assumed an air of dignified +self-importance. We were the hosts of the day; we bowed graciously to +such of our guests as we knew, and, with a mild tolerance, looked over +the heads of those who were unfamiliar. Yet nothing checked our happy +companionship with the caravan; still we followed by the side of the +procession, through tangles of blackberry vine, and over ditch and +stubble. Some of the boys mounted the walls, and ran wildly, dislodging +stones as they went, and earning no reproof from the fathers who, on +any other day, would have been alive to a future mowing and the +clashing of scythe and rock. There was, moreover, an impression abroad +that our progress could by no means be considered devoid of danger. + +"S'pose that fellar should rise up, an' wrench off them bars!" +suggested Heman Blaisdell, pointing out one cage where a great +creature, gaudy in stripes, paced back and forth, throwing us an +occasional look of scorn and great despite. "I wouldn't give much for +my chances! Nor for anybody else's!" + +"My soul an' body!" ejaculated a woman. "I hope they don't forgit to +lock them cages up! Folks git awful careless when they do a thing every +day! I forgot to shet up the hins last week, an' that was the night the +skunk got in." + +"I'm glad Brad brought his gun," said another, in the tone of one who +would have crossed herself had there been a saint to help. And +thereafter we kept so thickly about Brad, walking with his long free +stride, that his progress became impeded, and he almost fell over us. +Suddenly, from the front, a man's voice rose in an imperative cry,-- + +"Turn round! turn round!" + +Quite evidently the mandate was addressed to us, and we turned in a +mass, fleeing back into Sudleigh's very arms. For a moment, it was like +Sparta and Persia striving in the Pass; then Sudleigh turned also, such +as were on foot, and fled with us. We pressed up the bank, as soon as +we could collect our errant wits; some of us, with a sense of coming +calamity, mounted the very wall, and there we had a moment to look +about us. The caravan was keeping steadily on, like fate and taxes, and +facing it stood a carryall attached to a frightened horse. On the front +seat, erect in her accustomed majesty, sat Aunt Melissa Adams; and +Uncle Hiram, ever a humble charioteer, was by her side. They, too, had +driven out to see the circus, but alas! it had not struck them that +they might meet it midway, with no volition of drawing up at the side +of the road and allowing it to pass. The old horse, hardened to the +vicissitudes of many farming seasons, had necessarily no acquaintance +with the wild beasts of the Orient; no past experience, tucked away in +his wise old head, could explain them in the very least. He plunged and +reared; he snorted with fear, and Aunt Melissa began to emit shrieks of +such volume and quality that the mangy lion, composing himself to sleep +in his cage, rose, and sent forth a cry that Tiverton will long +remember. We did not stop to explain our forebodings, but we were sure +that, in some mysterious way, Aunt Melissa was doomed, and that she had +brought her misfortune on herself. A second Daniel, she had no special +integrity to stand her in need. And still the circus advanced, and the +horse snorted and backed. He was a gaunt old beast, but in his terror, +one moment of beauty dignified him beyond belief. His head was high, +his eyes were starting. + +"Turn round!" cried the men, but Uncle Hiram was paralyzed, and the +reins lay supine in his hands, while he screamed a wheezy "Whoa!" Then +Brad Freeman, as usual in cases outside precedent, became the good +angel of Tiverton. He forced his gun on the person nearest at hand--who +proved to be Nance Pete--and dashed forward. Seizing the frightened +horse by the head, he cramped the wheel scientifically, and turned him +round. Then he gave him a smack on the flank, and the carryall went +reeling and swaying back into Tiverton, the _avant-courrier_ of the +circus. You should have heard Aunt Melissa's account of that ride, an +epic moment which she treasured, in awe, to the day of her death. +According to her, it asked no odds from the wild huntsman, or the +Gabriel hounds. Well, we cowards came down from the wall, assuring each +other, with voices still shaking a little, that we knew it was nothing, +after all, and that nobody but Aunt Melissa would make such a fuss. How +she did holler! we said, with conscious pride in our own +self-possession when brought into unexpectedly close relations with +wild beasts; and we trudged happily along through the dust stirred by +alien trampling, back to Tiverton Street, and down into Brad Freeman's +field. It would hardly be possible to describe our joy in watching the +operation of tent-raising, nor our pride in Brad Freeman, when he +assumed the character of host, and not only made the circus-folk free +of the ground they had hired, but hurried here and there, helping with +such address and muscular vigor that we felt defrauded in never having +known how accomplished he really was. The strollers recognized his +type, in no time; they were joking with him and clapping him on the +back before the first tent had been unrolled. Now, none of us had ever +seen a circus performer, save in the ring; and I think we were +disappointed, for a moment, at finding we had in our midst no spangled +angels in rosy tights, no athletes standing on their heads by choice, +and quite preferring the landscape upside down, but a set of shabbily +dressed, rather jaded men and women, who were, for all the world, just +like ourselves, save that they walked more gracefully, and spoke in +softer voice. But when the report went round that the cook was getting +breakfast ready--out of doors, too!--we were more than compensated for +the loss of such tinsel joys. Chattering and eager, we ran over to the +dining-tent, and there, close beside it, found the little kitchen, its +ovens smoking hot, and a man outside, aproned and capped, cutting up +chops and steaks, with careless deftness, and laying them in the great +iron pans, preparatory to broiling. + +"By all 't's good an' bad!" swore Tom McNeil, a universal and sweeping +oath he much affected, "they've got a whole sheep an' a side o' beef! +Well, it's high livin', an' no mistake!" + +We who considered a few pies a baking, watched this wholesale cookery +in bewildered fascination. A savory smell arose to heaven. I never was +so hungry in my life, and I believe all Tiverton would own to the same +craving. Perhaps some wild instinct sprang up in us with the scent of +meat in out-door air, but at any rate, we became much exhilarated, and +our attention was only turned from the beguiling chops by Mrs. Wilson's +saying, in a low tone, to her husband,-- + +"Lothrop, if there ain't Lucindy, an' that Molly McNeil with her! +What's Lucindy got? My sake alive! you might ha' known she'd do suthin' +to make anybody wish they'd stayed to home. If you can git near her, +you keep a tight holt on her, or she'll be jumpin' through a hoop!" + +I turned, with the rest. Yes, there was Miss Lucindy, tripping happily +across the level field. Molly McNeil hastened beside her, and between +them they carried a large clothes-basket, overflowing with flaming +orange-red; a basket heaped with sunset, not the dawn! They were very +near me when I guessed what it was; so near that I could see the happy +smile on Lucindy's parted lips, and note how high the rose flush had +risen in her delicate cheek, with happiness and haste. + +"Stortions!" broke out a voice near me, in virile scorn,--Nance +Pete's,--"stortions! Jes' like her! Better picked 'em a mess o' pease!" + +It was, indeed, a basket of red nasturtiums, and the sun had touched +them into a glory like his own. For one brief moment, we were ashamed +of Lucindy's "shallerness" and irrelevancy; but the circus people +interpreted her better. They rose from box and hamper where they had +been listlessly awaiting their tardy breakfast, and crowded forward to +meet her. They knew, through the comradeship of all Bohemia, exactly +what she meant. + +"My!" said Miss Lucindy, smiling full at them as they came,--her old, +set smile had been touched, within a year, by something glad and +free,--"set 'em down now, Molly. My! are you the folks? Well, I thought +you'd seem different, somehow, but anyway, we brought you over a few +blooms. We thought you couldn't have much time, movin' round so, to +work in your gardins, especially the things you have to sow every year. +Yes, dear, yes! Take a good handful. Here's a little mignonette I put +in the bottom, so't everybody could have a sprig. Yes, there's enough +for the men, too. Why, yes, help yourself! Law, dear, why don't you +take off your veil? Hot as this is!" for the bearded lady, closely +masked in black _barege_, had come forward and hungrily stretched out a +great hand for her share. + +We never knew how it all happened, but during this clamor of happy +voices, the chops were cooked and the coffee boiled; the circus people +turned about, and trooped into the tent where the tables were set, and +they took Miss Lucindy with them. Yes, they did! Molly McNeil stayed +contentedly outside; for though she had brought her share of the +treasure, quite evidently she considered herself a friendly helper, not +a partner in the scheme. But Miss Lucindy was the queen of the +carnival. We heard one girl say to another, as our eccentric townswoman +swept past us, in the eager crowd, "Oh, the dear old thing!" We saw a +sad-eyed girl bend forward, lift a string of Miss Lucindy's apron +(which, we felt, should have been left behind in the kitchen) and give +it a hearty kiss. Later, when, by little groups, we peeped into the +dining-tent, we saw Miss Lucindy sitting there at the table, between +two women who evidently thought her the very nicest person that had +ever crossed their wandering track. There she was, an untouched roll +and chop on her plate, a cup of coffee by her side. She was not +talking. She only smiled happily at those who talked to her, and her +eyes shone very bright. We were ashamed; I confess it. For was not +Sudleigh, also, there to see? + +"Oh, my soul!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, in fretful undertone. "I wish the +old Judge was here!" + +Her husband turned and looked at her, and she quailed; not with fear of +him, but at the vision of the outraged truth. + +"Well, no," she added, weakly, "I dunno's I wish anything so bad as +that, but I do declare I think there ought to be somebody to keep a +tight grip on Lucindy!" + +Who shall deem himself worthy to write the chronicle of that glorious +day? There were so many incidents not set down in the logical drama; so +many side-shows of circumstance! We watched all the mysterious +preparations for the afternoon performance, so far as we were allowed, +with the keenness of the wise, who recognize a special wonder and will +not let it pass unproved. We surrounded Miss Lucindy, when she came +away from her breakfast party, and begged for an exact account of all +her entertainers had said; but she could tell us nothing. She only +reiterated, with eyes sparkling anew, that they were "proper nice +folks, proper nice! and she must go home and get Ellen. If she'd known +they were just like other folks she'd have brought Ellen this morning; +but she'd been afraid there'd be talk that little girls better not +hear." + +At noon, we sat about in the shade of the trees along the wall, and ate +delicious cold food from the butter-boxes and baskets our men-folks had +brought over during the forenoon lull; and we assiduously offered +Sudleigh a drink, whenever it passed the counter where barrels of free +spring-water had been set. And then, at the first possible moment, we +paid our fee, and went inside the tent to see the animals. That scrubby +menagerie had not gained in dignity from its transference to canvas +walls. The enclosure was very hot and stuffy; there was a smell of dust +and straw. The lion stretched himself, from time to time, and gave an +angry roar for savage, long-lost joys. One bear, surely new to the +business, kept walking up and down, up and down, moaning, in an abandon +of homesickness. Brad Freeman stood before the cage when I was there. + +"Say, Brad," said the Crane boy, slipping his arm into the hunter's, in +a good-fellowship sure to be reciprocated. "Davie Tolman said you's +goin' to fetch over your fox, an' sell him to the circus. Be you?" + +"My Lord!" answered Brad, very violently for him, the ever-tolerant. +"No! I'm goin' to let him go. _Look at that!_" And while the Crane boy, +unconcerned, yet puzzled, gave his full attention to the bear, Brad +passed on. + +There was a wolf, I remember, darting about his cage, slinking, +furtive, ever on a futile prowl. He especially engaged the interest of +Tom McNeil, who said admiringly, as I, too, looked through the bars, +"Ain't he a prompt little cuss?" I felt that with Tom it was the +fascination of opposites; he never could understand superlative energy. + +Just as we were trooping into the larger tent (there were no three +rings, I beg to say, maliciously calculated to distract the attention! +One, of a goodly size, was quite enough for us!) a little voice piped +up, "The snake's got loose!" How we surged and panted, and fought one +another for our sacred lives! In vain were we urged to stand still; we +strove the more. And when a bit of rope perversely and maliciously +coiled itself round Rosa Tolman's ankle, she gave a shriek so loud and +despairing that it undid us anew. If Sheriff Holmes had not come +forward and sworn at us, I believe we should have trampled one another +out of existence; but he seemed so palpably the embodiment of +authority, and his oath the oath undoubtedly selected by legislature +for that very occasion, that we paused, and on the passionate +asseveration of a circus man that the snake was safely in his cage, +consented to be calm. But Aunt Melissa Adams, unstrung by her earlier +experience, would trust no doubtful circumstance. She plodded back into +the animal-tent, assured herself, with her own eyes, of the snake's +presence at his own hearthstone, and came back satisfied, just as the +clown entered the ring. The performance needs no bush. We had palmleaf +fans offered us, pop-corn, and pink lemonade. We sweltered under the +blazing canvas, laughed at the clown's musty fooling, which deserved +rather the reverence due old age, and wondered between whiles if there +would be a shower, and if tent-poles were ever struck. Then it was all +over, and we trailed out, in great bodily discomfort and spiritual joy, +to witness, quite unlooked for, the most vivid drama of the day. Young +Dana Marden was there, he and his wife who lived down in Tiverton +Hollow. Dana was a nephew of Josh, of hapless memory, and "folks said" +that, like Josh, he had "all the Marden setness, once git him riled." +But Mary Worthen had not been in the least afraid of that when she +married him. Before their engagement, some one had casually mentioned +Dana's having inherited "setness" for his patrimony. + +"I know it," she said, "and if I had anything to do with him, I'd break +him of it, or I'd break his neck!" + +Tiverton had been very considerate in never repeating that speech to +Dana; and his wife, in all their five years of married life, had not +fulfilled her threat. As we were making ready to leave the grounds, +that day, and those who had horses were "tacklin up," we became aware +that Dana, a handsome, solid, fresh-colored fellow, sat in his wagon +with pretty Mary beside him, and that they evidently had no intention +of moving on. Of course we approached, to find out what the trouble +might be. + +"We can send word to have Tom Bunker milk the cows," said Dana, with +distinct emphasis, "an' we can stay for the evenin' performance. Or we +can go now. Only, you've got to say which!" + +"I don't want to say," returned Mary, placidly, "because I don't know +which you'd rather have. You just tell me _so_ much!" + +A frown contracted his brow; he looked a middle-aged man. When he +spoke, his voice grated. + +"You tell which, or we'll set here all night, an' I don't speak another +word to you till you do!" + +But Mary said nothing. + +"My soul!" whispered Mrs. Rivers to me. "She's got herself into it now, +jest as they say Lyddy Ann Marden done, with Josh. She'll have to back +down!" + +Several more of those aimless on-lookers, ever ready for the making of +crowds, surged forward. The wagon was blocking the way. We realised +with shame that Sudleigh, too, was here, to say nothing of sister towns +less irritating to our pride. It was Uncle Eli Pike who stepped into +the breach. + +"Here, Dana!" he called, and, as we were glad to remember, all the +aliens in the crowd could hear, "I guess that hoss o' yourn's gittin' a +mite balky. I'll lead him a step, if you say so." And without a word of +assent from Dana, he guided the horse out of the grounds, and started +him on the road. We watched the divided couple, on their common way. +Dana was driving, it is true; but we knew, with a heavy certainty, that +he was not speaking to his wife. He was a Marden, and nothing would +make him speak. + +This slight but very significant episode sent us home in a soberer mind +than any of us had anticipated, after the gaudy triumphs of the day. We +could not quell our curiosity over the upshot of it all, and that +night, after the chores were done, we sat in the darkness, +interspersing our comments on the spangled butterflies of horse and +hoop with an awed question, now and then, while the minute-hand sped, +"S'pose they've spoke yit?" + +Alas! the prevailing voice was still against it; and when we went to +market, and met there the people from the Hollow (who were somewhat +more bucolic than we), they passed about the open secret. Dana did not +speak to his wife. Again we knew he never would. The summer waned; the +cows were turned into the shack, and the most "forehanded" among us +began to cut boughs for banking up the house, and set afoot other +preparations for winter's cold. Still Dana had not spoken. But the +effect on Mary was inexplicable to us all. We knew she loved him +deeply, and that the habits of their relationship were very tender; we +expected her to sink and fail under the burden of this sudden exile of +the heart, just as Lyddy Ann had done, so many years ago. But Mary held +her head high, and kept her color. She even "went abroad" more than +usual; ostentatiously so, we thought, for she would come over to +Tiverton to pass the afternoon, after the good, old-fashioned style, +with women whom she knew but slightly. And, most incredible of all, +though Dana would not speak to her, she spoke to him! Once, in driving +past, I heard her clear voice (it seemed now a dauntless voice!) +calling,-- + +"Dana, dinner's ready!" Dana dropped the board he was carrying, and +went in, a fierce yet dogged look upon his face, as if it needed hourly +schooling to mirror his hard heart. Then the agent of the Sudleigh +"Star," who was canvassing for a new domestic paper, had also his story +to tell. He went to the Mardens', and Mary, who admitted him, put down +her name, and then called blithely into the kitchen,-- + +"Dana, I'm all out o' change. Will you hand me a dollar 'n' a quarter?" + +Dana, flushed red and overwhelmed by a pitiable embarrassment, came to +the door and gave the money; and Mary, with that proud unconsciousness +which made us wonder anew every time we saw it in her, thanked him, and +dismissed the visitor, as if nothing were wrong. The couple went as +usual to church and sociable. Certain lines deepened in Dana's face, +but Mary grew every day more light-heartedly cheerful. Yet the +one-sided silence lived, with the terrible tenacity of evil. + +So the days went on until midwinter snows began to blow, and then we +learned, with a thrill of pride, that the International Dramatic +Company proposed coming to our own little hall, for a two weeks' +engagement. Some said Sudleigh Opera House was too large for it, and +too expensive; but we, the wiser heads, were grandly aware that, with +unusual acumen, the drama had at last recognized the true emporium of +taste. We resolved that this discriminating company should not repent +its choice. A week before the great first night, magnificent posters in +red and blue set before us, in very choice English, the dramatic +performances, "Shakespearean and otherwise," destined to take place +among us. The leading parts were to be assumed by Mr. and Mrs. Van +Rensellaer Wilde, "two of the foremost artists in the stellar world, +supported by an adequate company." + +The announcement ended with the insinuating alliteration, "Popular +prices prevail." The very first night, we were at the door, an excited +crowd, absolutely before it was open; but early as we went, the +hospitable pianist held the field before us; the hall resounded with +his jocund banging at the very moment when the pioneer among us set +foot within. I have never seen anywhere, either on benefit or farewell +night, a cordiality to be compared with that which presided over our +own theatre in Tiverton Hall. Mr. Van Rensellaer Wilde himself stood +within the doorway, to greet us as we came; a personable man, with the +smooth, individual face of his profession, a moist and beery eye, a +catholic smile, tolerant enough to include the just and the unjust, a +rusty, old-fashioned stock, and the very ancientest brown Prince Albert +coat still in reputable existence,--a strange historical epitome of +brushings and spongings, of camphor exile and patient patching. Quite +evidently he was not among the prosperous, even in his stellar world. +But not for that would he repine. This present planet was an admirable +plot of ground, and here he stood, cheerfully ready to induct us, the +Puritan-born, into the fictitious joys thereof. And popular prices +prevailed; the floor of the hall itself confirmed it. It was divided, +by chalk-lines, into three sections. Enter the first division, and a +legend at your feet indicated the ten-cent territory. Advance a little, +and "twenty-five cents" met the eye; and presently, approaching the +platform, you were in the seats of the scornful, thirty-five cents +each. The latter, by common consent, were eschewed by the very first +comers, not alone for reasons of thrift, but because we thought they +ought to be left for old folks, "a leetle mite hard o' hearin'," or the +unfortunates who were "not so fur-sighted" as we. So we seated +ourselves in delight already begun, for was not Mr. Gad Greenfield +performing one of the "orchestral pieces" which the programme had led +us to expect? The piano was an antique, accustomed to serve as victim +at Sudleigh's dancing-school and sociables. I have never heard its +condition described, on its return to Sudleigh; I only know that, from +some eccentric partiality, Gad Greenfield's music was all _fortissimo_. +Sally Flint, brought thither by the much-enduring overseer, for the +sake of domestic peace, seemed to be the only one who did not regard +Gad's performance with unquestioning awe. She was heard to say aloud, +in a penetrating voice,-- + +"My soul an' body! what a racket!" + +Whereupon she deliberately pulled some wool from the tassel of her +chinchilla cloud, and stuffed a little wad into each ear. We were sorry +for the overseer, thus put to shame by his untutored charge, and +delicately looked away, after making sure Sally had "r'ared as high" as +she proposed doing. She was the overseer's cross; no one could help him +bear it. + +And now the curtain went up,--though not on the play, let me tell you! +On slighter joys, a fillip to the taste. A juggler, "all complete" in +black small-clothes and white kid gloves, stood there ready to burn up +our handkerchiefs, change our watches into rabbits, and make omelets in +our best go-to-meeting hats. I cannot remember all the wonderful things +he did (everything, I believe, judging from the roseate glow left in my +mind, everything that juggler ever achieved short of the Hindoo marvel +of cutting up maidens and splicing them together again, or planting the +magic tree); I only know we were too crafty to help him, and though he +again and again implored a volunteer from the audience to come and play +the willing victim, we clung to our settees the more, so that Gad of +the piano was obliged to fill the gap. And when the curtain came down, +and went up again on a drawing-room, with a red plush chair in it, and +a lady dressed in a long-tailed white satin gown, where were we? In +Tiverton? Nay, in the great world of fashion and of crime. I remember +very little now about the order of the plays; very little of their +names and drift. I only know we were swept triumphantly through the +widest range ever imagined since the "pastoral-comical, +historical-pastoral," of old Polonius. And in all, fat, middle-aged Wilde +was the dashing hero, the deep-dyed villain; and his wife, middle-aged +as he, and far, oh, far more corpulent! played the lovely heroine, the +blooming victim, the queen of hearts. And she was truly beautiful to +us, that blowsy dame, through the beguiling witchery of her art. The +smarting tears came into our eyes when, in "Caste," she staggered back, +despairing, lost in grief, unable to arm her soldier for the march. +Melodrama was her joy, and as we watched her lumbering about the stage +in a white muslin dress, with the artificial springiness of a youth +that would never return, we could have risen as one man, to snatch her +from the toils of villany. She was a cool piece, that swiftly +descending star! She had a way of deliberately stepping outside the +scenes and letting down her thin black hair, before the tragic moment; +then would she bound back again, and tear every passion to tatters, in +good old-fashioned style. In "The Octoroon" especially she tore our +hearts with it, so that it almost began to seem as if political issues +were imminent. For between the acts, men bent forward to their +neighbors, and put their heads together, recalling abolition times; and +one poor, harmless old farmer from Sudleigh way was glared at in a +fashion to which he had once been painfully accustomed, while murmurs +of "Copperhead! Yes, Copperhead all through the war!" must have +penetrated where he sat. But he was securely locked up in his fortress +of deaf old age, and met the hostile glances benignly, quite +unconscious of their meaning. In one particular, we felt, for a time, +that we had been deceived. The Shakespearean drama had not been touched +on as we had been led to expect; but at last, in the middle of the +second week, we were rejoiced by the announcement that "Othello" would +that night be appropriately set forth. The Moor of Venice! He would +never have recognized himself--his great creator would never have +guessed his identity--as presented by Mr. Van Rensellaer Wilde. I give +you my word for that! From beginning to end of the performance, +Tiverton groped about, in a haze of perplexity, rendered ever the more +dense by the fact that none of the actors knew their parts. I am +inclined to think they had enriched their announcement by this allusion +to the Shakespearean drama in a moment of wild ambition, as we gladly +commit ourselves to issues far-off and vague; and then, with a +chivalrous determination to vindicate their written word; they had +embarked on a troublous sea for which they had "neither mast nor sail, +nor chart nor rudder." So they went bobbing about in a tub, and we, +with a like paucity of equipment, essayed to follow them. + +Othello himself was a veiled mystery in our eyes. + +"Ain't he colored?" whispered Mrs. Wilson to me; and while I hesitated, +seeking to frame an answer both terse and true, she continued, although +he was at that moment impressing the Senate with his great apology, "Is +he free?" + +I assured her on that point, and she settled down to a troubled study +of the part, only to run hopelessly aground when Desdemona, in her +stiff white satin gown, announced her intention of cleaving to the +robust blackamoor, in spite of fate and father. That seemed a +praiseworthy action, "taken by and large," but we could not altogether +applaud it. "Abolition," as we were, the deed wounded some race +prejudice in us, and Mrs. Hiram Cole voiced the general sentiment when +she remarked audibly,-- + +"One color's as good as another, come Judgment Day, but let 'em marry +among themselves, _I_ say!" + +The poverty of the scenery had something to do with our dulness in +following the dramatic thread, for how should we know that our own +little stage, disguised by a slender tree-growth, was the island of +Cyprus, and that Desdemona, tripping through a doorway, in the same +satin gown, had just arrived from a long and perilous voyage? "The +riches of the ship" had "come on shore," but for all we knew, it had +been in the next room, taking a nap, all the while. In the crucial +scene between Cassio and Iago, we got the impression that one was as +drunk as the other, and that Cassio acted the better man of the two, +chiefly because of his grandiloquent apostrophe relative to the +thieving of brains. We approved of that, and looked meaningly round at +old Cap'n Fuller, who was at that time taking more hard cider than we +considered good for him. But when the final catastrophe came, we, +having missed the logical sequence, were totally unprepared. Mr. Wilde, +with a blackamoor fury irresistibly funny to one who has seen a city +coal-man cursing another for not moving on, smothered his shrieking +spouse in a pillow brought over for that purpose from the Blaisdells', +where most of the actors were boarding. We were not inclined to endure +this quietly. The more phlegmatic among us moved uneasily in our seats, +and one or two men, excitable beyond the ordinary, sprang up, with an +oath. Mrs. Wilson dragged her husband down again. + +"For massy sake, do set still!" she urged. "He 'ain't killed her. Don't +you see them toes a-twitchin'?" + +No, Mrs. Wilde was not dead, as her weary appearance in the afterpiece +attested; but she had been cruelly abused, and the murmurs, here and +there, as we left the hall, went far to show that Othello had done well +in voluntarily paying the debt of nature, and that Emilia thought none +too ill of him. + +"Ought to ha' been strong up, by good rights," growled Tiverton, "you +can't find a jury't would acquit _him_!" + +Night after night, we conscientiously sat out the aforesaid afterpiece, +innocently supposed to be our due because it had formed a part of the +initial performance. However long our weary strollers might delay it, +in the empty hope of our going home content, there we waited until the +curtain went up. It was a dreary piece of business, varied by +horse-play considered "kind o' rough" by even the more boisterous among +us. Sometimes it was given, minstrel-wise, in the time-honored panoply +of burnt cork; again, poor weary souls! they lacked even the spirit to +blacken themselves, and clinging to the same dialogue, played boldly in +Caucasian fairness, with the pathetically futile disguise of a Teuton +accent. And last of all, Mr. Wilde would appear before the curtain, and +"in behalf of Mrs. Wilde, self and company" thank us movingly for our +kind attention, and announce the next night's bill. + +The last half hour was my chosen time for leaning back against the +wall, and allowing thought and glance to dwell lovingly on Tiverton +faces. O worn and rugged features of the elder generation to whose +kinship we are born! What solution, even of Time, the all-potent, +shall wash your meaning from the heart? An absolute lack of +self-consciousness had quite transformed the gaze they bent upon the +stage. A veil had been swept aside, and the true soul shone forth; that +soul which ever dwells apart, either from the dignity of its estate or, +being wrought of fibre more delicate than air, because it fears recoil +and hurt. There were Roxy and her husband, he too well content with +life as it is, to be greatly moved by its counterfeit; she sparkling +back some artless reply to the challenge of feeble romance and wingless +wit. There was Uncle Eli, a little dazed by these strange doings, the +hand on his knee shaking, from time to time, under the stimulus of +unshared thought. There was Miss Lucindy, with Ellen and all the +McNeils, a care-free, happy phalanx, smiling joyously at everything set +before them, with that spontaneous rapture so good to see. One night, +Nance Pete appeared, and established herself, with great importance, in +the first row of the ten-cent seats; but she fell asleep, and snored +with embarrassing volume and precision. She never came again, and +announced indifferently, to all who cared to hear, that when she +"wanted to see a passel o' monkeys, she'd go to the circus, an' done +with it." There, too, one night when Comedy burlesqued her own rapt +self, was Dana Marden; but he came alone. Mary had a cold, we heard, +and "thought she'd better stay in." Dana sat through the foolish play, +unmoved. His brow loomed heavy, like Tragedy's own mask, and it grew +ever blacker while the scene went on. Hiram Cole whispered me,-- + +"He'll kill himself afore he's done with it. He's gone in for the whole +hog, but he 'ain't growed to it, as Old Josh had. The Marden blood run +emptin's afore it got to him." + +The last night came of all our blissful interlude, and on that night, +by some stroke of fate, the bill was "Oliver Twist." Of that +performance let naught be spoken, save in reverence. For, by divine +leading it might seem, and not their own good wit, those poor players +had been briefly touched by the one true fire. Shakespeare had beckoned +them, and they had passed him by; Comedy and Tragedy had been their +innocent sport. How funny their tragedy had been, how sad their comedy, +Momus only might tell. But to-night some gleaming wave from a greater +sea had lifted them, and borne them on. Still they played, jarringly, +for that was their untutored wont. Their speech roared, loud defiance +to grammar's idle saws, their costumes were absurd remnants of an +antique past; but a certain, rude, and homely dignity had transfigured +them, and enveloped, too, this poor drama which, after all, goes very +deep, down to the springs of life and love. There was a dirty and +wicked abomination of a Fagin. Wilde himself played Sykes, and we of +Tiverton, who know little about the formless monster dwelling under the +garnished pavement of every great city, and rising, once in a century +or so, to send red riot and ruin through the streets,--even we could +read the story of his word and glance. Unconsciously to ourselves, we +guessed at Whitechapel and the East End "tough," and shuddered under +the knowledge of evil. Mrs. Wilde, her heavy face many a shade sincerer +than when she walked in dirty white satin, was Nancy; and in her death, +culminated the grand moment of Tiverton's looking the drama in the +face, and seeing it for what it is,--the living sister of life itself. +Sykes really killed her alarmingly well. Round the stage he dragged +her, bruised and speechless, with such cruel realism that we women +crouched and shivered; and when she staggered to her knees, and told +her pitiful lie for the brute she loved, the general shudder of worship +and horror thrilled us into a mighty reverence for the tie stronger +than death and hell, binding the woman to the man, and lifting Love +triumphant on his cross of pain. With Nancy's final sigh, another swept +through the hall, like breath among the trees, and, drawn by what +thread I know not, I looked about me, and all unwittingly was present +at another great last act. Dana Marden and his wife were in front of +me, not three seats away. Mary was very pale, and sat quite motionless, +looking down into her lap; but Dana bent forward, gripping the seat in +front of him with white and straining hands. His face, drawn and +knotted, was a mirror of such anguish as few of us imagine; we only +learn its power when it steals upon us in the dark, and our souls +wrestle with it for awful mastery. He seemed to be suffering an +extremity of physical pain. After that, I gave little heed to the +stage. I was only conscious that the curtain had gone down, and that +Mr. Wilde was thanking us for our kind attention, and expressing a +flattering hope that another year would find him again in our midst. We +did not want the farce, that night, even as our rightful due. We got +up, and filed out in silence. I was just behind Dana and Mary; so near +that I could have touched him when, half-way, down the hall, he put out +a clumsy hand and drew her shawl closer about her shoulders. Then he +set his face straight forward again, but not before I had noticed how +the lips were twitching still, in that dumb protest against the fetters +of his birth. Again he turned to her, as suddenly as if a blow had +forced his face about. I heard his voice, abrupt, explosive, full of +the harshness so near at hand to wait on agony,-- + +"You got your rubbers on?" + +Mary started a little, and a tremor like that of cold, went over her; +but she kept her head firmly erect. + +"Yes, Dana," she said, clearly, just as she had spoken to him all those +months, "I've got 'em on." + +Before eleven o'clock, the next morning, the news had spread all over +joyful Tiverton. Dana had spoken at last! But Mary! Within a week, she +took to her bed, quite overmastered by a lingering fever. She "came out +all right," as we say among ourselves, though after Dana had suffered +such agonies of tenderness over her as few save mothers can know, or +those who have injured their beloved. But she has never since been +quite so dauntless, quite so full of the joy of life. As Hiram Cole +again remarked, it is a serious thing to draw too heavily on the +nerve-juice. + +THE END. + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Meadow Grass, by Alice Brown + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEADOW GRASS *** + +***** This file should be named 9367.txt or 9367.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/3/6/9367/ + +Produced by A. Templeton, J. Sutherland, T. Allen and the +PG Distributed Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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