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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/14897-h.zip b/14897-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fac1356 --- /dev/null +++ b/14897-h.zip diff --git a/14897-h/14897-h.htm b/14897-h/14897-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b8b6d83 --- /dev/null +++ b/14897-h/14897-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2773 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of That Old-Time Child, Roberta, by Sophie Fox Sea</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + table.enl {background: #ccccff; + color:#000000; + font-family: "Arial", non-serif; + font-size:9pt; } + table.note {background: #ccccff; + color:#000000; + font-family: "Times Roman", serif; + font-size:12pt; } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + hr.full { width: 100%; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre {font-size: 8pt;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, That Old-Time Child, Roberta, by Sophie Fox +Sea</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: That Old-Time Child, Roberta</p> +<p>Author: Sophie Fox Sea</p> +<p>Release Date: February 5, 2005 [eBook #14897]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THAT OLD-TIME CHILD, ROBERTA***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by David Garcia, Melissa Er-Raqabi,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + from page images generously made available by the Kentuckiana Digital Library<br /> + (<a href="http://kdl.kyvl.org/">http://kdl.kyvl.org/</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table class="note" border="0" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through the Kentuckiana + Digital Library, Kentuckiana Digital Texts Collection. See + <a href="http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?;page=simpleext"> + http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?;page=simpleext</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illustr-01.jpg" width="100%" +alt=""Must I look so when I die? Boo-oo!" "I'll cross my heart, Lil Missus, 'twuz dem drefful men dat sed 'Boo-oo!'"" +title=""Must I look so when I die? Boo-oo!" "I'll cross my heart, Lil Missus, 'twuz dem drefful men dat sed 'Boo-oo!'"" /> +</div> +<p class="center"><b>"Must I look so when I die? Boo-oo!" "I'll cross my heart, Lil Missus, 'twuz dem drefful men dat sed 'Boo-oo!'"</b> +</p> +<table class="enl" border="0" cellpadding="2"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="images/illustr-01.jpg">View Illustration Enlarged</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>"THAT OLD-TIME CHILD, ROBERTA"</h1> + +<h2>HER HOME-LIFE ON THE FARM</h2> + +<div><br /></div> + +<h2>BY SOPHIE FOX SEA</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h6>Louisville<br /> +Printed by John P. Morton and Company</h6> + +<p class="center">1892 +</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="center"><b>TO MY REVERED AND BELOVED FRIEND,<br /> +Mrs. Preston Pope,<br /> +I DEDICATE THIS CHILD'S STORY. IT WAS SHE WHOSE LOVE OF<br /> +CHILDREN FIRST SUGGESTED IT, AND WHOSE WORDS OF<br /> +KIND APPRECIATION AND ENCOURAGEMENT HAVE<br /> +BEEN TO ME "AS APPLES OF GOLD IN<br /> +PICTURES OF SILVER."</b> +</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>"THAT OLD-TIME CHILD, ROBERTA."</h2> + + +<p>Roberta Marsden, or Lil Missus, as the negroes called her, for the opening +of my story dates back several years before the Civil War began, lived on +a country place in Kentucky. She was a beautiful child, and despite a few +foibles that all flesh is heir to, such a really lovable one that she was +fairly worshiped by mother, aunt and uncle, and every one of the negroes, +from old Caleb, the testy and ancient coachman, to the veriest pickaninny, +who thought it a great feat to catch hold with grimy fingers to the +fluttering strings of the little girl's white apron when she came among +them at Christmas and on other occasions to distribute sweets and more +substantial tokens.</p> + +<p>It was a great wonder that the child was not utterly spoiled. But it +seemed that her nature reflected the love lavished on her as a mirror the +face that looks into it.</p> + +<p>Aunt Betsy declared she did not have one selfish bone in her whole body.</p> + +<p>I think the reason of that was, there were so many about her looking to +her for comfort in some way, that when little more than a baby in years +she fell into the habit of thinking of and caring for others almost as a +woman would.</p> + +<p>Aunt Betsy was a rheumatic, and always ailing, and the child could not +remember the time when her beautiful, patient mamma was not very, very +sad. Although she smiled often on her little daughter, it seemed as if +there were tears right behind the smiles, just like rain-drops shining +through the rays of the sun. And when she crept close to her at night she +could feel the long lashes sweep her cheek, and they were so often wet.</p> + +<p>The negroes on the place, especially the older ones, would grumble out +their aches and pains to the child, as if they thought she had the gift of +healing. And indeed she had, in her way.</p> + +<p>For when old Squire split his foot open with an ax, they lived so far in +the country they couldn't get a physician every time it needed attention, +and her kind, brave mamma undertook to dress the wound herself every +morning. She would let the deft little fingers squeeze a sponge full of +tepid water over the cut as many times as it was necessary, then hold the +scissors and bandages, and help in other ways. And old Squire said the +tender, compassionate little face "ho'ped 'im as much as Miss July did."</p> + +<p>Those that need sympathy intuitively know where to get it. It's just like +the flowers reaching out for sun and dew.</p> + +<p>I expect the city children who read this story feel very sorry for +Roberta because she lived in the country. But they needn't be, for she was +never lonely and scarcely ever idle. The older negroes on the place said +she was like "ole missus" (that was her grandmother) in her ways. And +among other things they told about the old lady, to show how stirring she +was and what a manager, was her method of arousing the household to their +duties in the beginning of the week: "Wake up! wake up! I say. To-day's +Monday, to-morrow's Tuesday, next day's Wednesday, next day's Thursday, +then comes Friday, and Saturday will be here before you know it, and +nothing done."</p> + +<p>Roberta didn't belong to any "mite society" nor the "little busy bees," +where city children are trained to think of and help the poor, and she +didn't wear the badge of the "Society for Prevention of Cruelty to +Animals," as many children do nowadays. Indeed I don't expect she ever +heard there was such a society. But she was instrumental nevertheless in +doing a great deal of real practical good. O, how her eyes did flash when +she saw animals mistreated. She made beds for the cats and beds for the +dogs; and when any of the milkers struck the cows while they were milking +them, if she was near about, she would say, "Mamma says good milkers are +always gentle with the cows, for they won't give down their milk unless +you treat them kindly. And anybody can tell by the quantity of milk you +get whether you are good to them or not. If I was a cow I wouldn't give +down my milk if you struck me and hollered at me."</p> + +<p>So she made the cruel milkers ashamed of themselves often. And she +practically established a foundling asylum for little motherless lambs and +calves; raised them herself on the bottle just like they were babies.</p> + +<p>"O, you tootsey weetsy darlin'," I've heard her say to a bright-eyed, +gentle lamb, her especial delight. The little creature would run to her +and bleat by way of telling her it was hungry, and when she had fed it it +would rub its pretty head against her knee and look love at her, just as I +have seen babies look love at their mothers.</p> + +<p>And, my! how she did fuss over the little negro children when they were +sick! It just kept her busy bringing them gourds of fresh water from the +spring and watching the well ones to see that they didn't purloin the +dainties she brought the sick. She actually learned how to sew, making +clothes for the pickaninnies.</p> + +<p>And you just ought to have seen her when any of the fathers and mothers +whipped their children severely. She would fly down to the cabin, tear the +pickaninnies away and trot them up to the big house, and pet them until +they were willing to take another whipping to get the good things she gave +them.</p> + +<p>"She's jes de very spi't ob her par," old Squire would say on those +occasions; "Dat's jest de way hees eyes useter flash out at Mis Betsy +when she cum 'twix' him an Mis July."</p> + +<p>O, I wish I could make the little children who read this story see, as I +have seen it, the country place where Roberta Marsden was raised.</p> + +<p>On either side fields of golden-tasseled corn, rustling in the breeze and +shimmering in the sunlight, many of the stalks so entwined with +morning-glories, pink, white, blue, and variegated, one could almost +believe fairies had been there and arrayed the yellow silken-haired corn +babies for some festival, so crowned and garlanded they were. In front of +the house were wooded slopes, where the birds sang their love songs and +chattered noisily in bird language all the day long. Those woodlands might +have been called a primeval forest, for the trees were truly there in the +earliest memory of the oldest living resident of the county.</p> + +<p>It used to puzzle me to understand how the birds knew when it was time to +wake up and begin their matin songs, for it was so like night there. +Roberta, who was an early riser and withal a child of poetic imagination, +used to say "that the fairies woke them up." She declared she saw a little +glittering thing, with wings and wand of silver, alight on the tops of the +trees and peep through at the Darbys and Joans of the bird tribe. And she +was sure it must have told them it was time to wake up; for soon would +begin a low twitter that swelled louder and louder, as bird after bird +joined in until every family of birds was represented. From the back porch +of the house could be seen a range of blue misty hills, that Roberta +called brides. They were often enveloped in white filmy folds, like bridal +veils, and one might catch glimpses of the river from there also gliding +along between banks of green.</p> + +<p>A giant's great glittering eye she called that; the trees on the hills +above the giant's brows, and the ferns and grasses growing on either bank +were upper and lower lashes. With a little encouragement Roberta would +have been a genuine poet.</p> + +<p>But Aunt Betsy took such a literal view of things, she was constantly +saying to Mrs. Marsden:</p> + +<p>"That child's imagination will get away with her, Julia, if you don't +check it. It will, indeed."</p> + +<p>And she had a way of making the child repeat over and over again +descriptions of things that had struck her fancy, and cutting here and +there until the description didn't seem applicable at all to the places +she had seen.</p> + +<p>"I feel just like the old woman in Mother Goose, Auntie," Roberta would +say, her eyes full of vexed tears, "when she woke up on the king's highway +and found her petticoats were cut off."</p> + +<p>"But truth is truth, child," said Aunt Betsy.</p> + +<p>Aunt Betsy's intensely realistic temperament could not understand that +fine, exquisite perception God had given the little girl, which enabled +her to see beauty that others, differently organized, would never see, +nor, believe was there.</p> + +<p>The house, where four generations of Mrs. Marsden's family had lived, was +home-like, but quaint and unpretentious. It had a very solid look and was +in thorough repair, for the family were thrifty and well-to-do always. +Luxuriant vines of the Virginia creeper grew on the sides of the house and +around the pillars of the porches. Wandering tendrils hung from the eaves +and crept in the second-story windows. There was a wild-brier rose there +that had been planted by Mrs. Marsden's grandmother. It partook somewhat +of the nature of the old lady; nothing could keep it from doing its duty. +It filled the air with fragrance in its season, and was a mass of delicate +pink flower cups.</p> + +<p>Inside of the old house were many little nooks, and each nook haunted by +the spirit of some legendary story. As is the case in all houses where +successive generations of the same family have lived and died, ghostly +visitants came at certain times, so the negroes said, rang bells softly at +dead of night, tipped across the floor with but the echo of a step, +jostled medicine bottles together and did many curious things. Roberta, +brave as she was and sensible as she was, would actually cover up her head +with the bedclothes, and nearly smother for fear she would hear the bells +and ghostly steps.</p> + +<p>Mam' Sara was the only one of the negroes who didn't believe in ghosts. +"No, indeed, honey," she would say to Roberta, "daid fo'ks don' never cum +bak. If they gits ter Heaven, they don' wan'er, and if they gits ter de +udder place they can't. The devil won' never let 'em git away frum him, +kase he's wuk so hard ter git 'em."</p> + +<p>The part of the house of most interest to Roberta was the parlor, where +were stored the heir-looms of the family, a spinet with all the ivory worn +off the keys, two pier-glasses with brass claws for feet, and a clock so +tall and big she actually hid in it once when she was playing "hide and go +seek" with some little visitors, who said they had seen a clock "larger."</p> + +<p>Roberta was a very amiable child, but old Squire said she "wuz techus +erbout sum things." And the old clock must have been one of the things.</p> + +<p>The chairs were brought from Virginia on the backs of mules, and the +covers on them embroidered by the little girl's grandmother. The same busy +hands that superintended the manufacture of those piles of linen sheets +stored away in the presses above stairs, and the counterpanes woven with +the American eagle in the center, bunches of hollyhocks and sweet pea in +the corners, and trumpet vines running along the edges.</p> + +<p>The paper on the walls of the parlor was a curiosity. It was imported from +England many, many years before Roberta's mother was born, because her +grandfather saw a room somewhere, I think in Baltimore, that had similar +paper, and he took such a fancy to it he ordered some from the same place. +The paper was wrought in great panels, with life-size figures of orientals +in the center. They were terrible looking men, the children thought. They +had swarthy skins and beards down to their waists, and fierce eyes that +flashed out beneath their turbans with a fe-fo-fi-fum look.</p> + +<p>Those fierce eyes were the cause of no little alarm, I can assure you, +when darkness swooped down upon Roberta and Polly and Dilsy, playing +Lady-come-to-see in the old parlor in childlike unconsciousness of the +passage of time. Polly, the imp, would always insist upon singing "Lady +Jane Grey," as they tiptoed backward out of the room. They did not dare to +look away, for fear those terrible men would fly at them when they were +not looking and throttle them with their long, bony fingers, so they +joined hands and sung as they tiptoed backward:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>Lady Jane Grey, she went to church for to pray;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She went to the stile and there rested awhile;<br /></span> +<span>She went to the door and there rested a little more;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She went up the aisle and there rested awhile;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">She looked up; she looked down;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">She saw a corpse lie on the ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She said to the sexton, must I look so<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I die? Boo, boo!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Now when they came to the last part it was always Polly who stretched open +her eyes till they looked like an owl's great round eyes, and jumped at +Roberta and Dilsy and hollered "Boo, boo!" Although they knew it was +coming they were awfully scared, and would break loose and run, screaming +like mad things, into the sitting-room, really believing the orientals +were after them. They had made believe it so many times, and Polly had +said so many times, "I'll cross my heart, Lil Missus, 'twuz dem drefful +men dat sed 'boo-oo'; I seed thar lips muven; you don' ketch me in thar no +mo'," they had come to really believe it. They had heard the story of the +children who played wolf, and a wolf did sure enough come and devour them. +As many times as they had played Lady Jane Grey they were always worse +scared the last time than ever before. The sitting-room was a cozy place +when they got there, panting for breath after their fright in the parlor.</p> + +<p>In one of the deep window recesses Roberta had set up her entire doll +family to housekeeping. She was very fond of her dolls. The mother +instinct in her was developed very early. She had wax dolls and china +dolls and rag dolls. Mrs. Marsden painted features on the rag dolls, and +they looked very natural. There was Miss Prim and Miss Slim, Mrs. Jolly +and Mrs. Folly, Miss Snappy and Miss Happy, named from their different +expressions. Roberta had the quaintest way of talking to her dolls. She +had caught some of Aunt Betsy's old-time ideas:</p> + +<p>"Straighter, my dears, straighter. One's spine should never touch the back +of a chair," and, "Don't rest your elbows on the table while you are +eating; my great-grandmother used to keep cushions stuffed with pins to +slip under the children's elbows," etc.</p> + +<p>Her favorite dolls were the figures cut out of the fashion plates of +Godey's Lady's Book. She was an artist with her fingers, if there was a +pair of scissors in them. So she took sheets of different colored +tissue-paper, cut dresses, and fitted them nicely on her dolls. Each doll +had a variety.</p> + +<p>I believe she thought her dolls looked cosier at the dinner-table than +anywhere else, and she kept them sitting there a great deal. Sometimes +Polly, who seemed born to make trouble, would roll her eyes at the dolls +and say, "You iz de greedes' things. Whar iz you gwiner to put it?"</p> + +<p>Then, of course, Roberta would feel obliged to take some notice of their +sitting at the table so long: "Come, get down now, dears. Little ladies +should <i>not</i> appear greedy."</p> + +<p>Roberta was very much like some mothers of real children, who will wink at +what their little ones do at one time, and, if a neighbor drops in at +another, who is not of the same way of thinking, scold the poor children +for doing those very things they had winked at before. But Roberta did not +have it in her heart to scold anybody much, not even that impish Polly, +who would go around after she had provoked her little mistress beyond +endurance, sniffling and singing in a dolorous tone,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>Whar she goes en how she fars,<br /></span> +<span>Nobody knows en nobody kyars.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and invariably wind up by getting the very playthings she wanted from +Roberta as a peace offering.</p> + +<p>I must not forget to tell you about Roberta's Sunday School for little +negro children. If the child didn't always keep perfect order and make the +headway she would have liked, it wasn't because she didn't try. Her whole +heart was in the work. She really was very intelligent, and Aunt Betsy +said, "If there was such a thing as anybody being born in this world a +Christian, she believed Roberta was." I think she must have had the germ +of object teaching—that is the fad now—in her nature, she could paint +such vivid mental pictures to convey an idea. Once she was telling Polly +about God's punishment of sinners, and Polly said, "Lawdy, Lil Missus, I +feel dem blazes creepen' all over me dis minit." She had a great deal to +contend with, almost as much as Mrs. Marsden had, in getting the older +negroes to come in to prayers. Nine times out of ten, when she rang the +bell for them Sunday morning, Squire would put his head in the door and +say:</p> + +<p>"Mis July, dat deviles hoss dun played me dat same trick ergin. He dun +lade down in de mud en roll ober en ober. 'T will take me clar up ter de +time to start ter chech ter git dat mud orf him, en hard wurk at dat. Dat +hoss knows ez well when Sad-day night comes ez you duz. Jes' de way he dun +las' week when I hetch him in de plow: lay down en groan lak he sick enuff +ter die, ter keep fum worken'; en half hour arfter I turn him luse +frolerken lak er colt—jes' kicken' up his heels, I kin tell you."</p> + +<p>"Why not drive some of the others, Uncle Squire, so you can come in to +prayers?"</p> + +<p>"I dun turn em all out, en dey's gorn, de Lord unly knows whar. If I'd +unly know'd it en time now. But I'll show 'im—I'll show 'im. I gwiner be +mity solid wid 'im, en mebbe heel larn arfter while dat he aint his own +master."</p> + +<p>At other times it was a mule.</p> + +<p>"Mis July, dat mule dun tore down dat rock fence ergin. I bounter fix it +or de stock will git out en go orf, you knows dat ez well az I duz. Dat +mule's yours, en you kin do what you please wid him, but ef he 'longter me +I'd sell him de fus chance I git. Dat mule nuff ter mek er man strike hees +gran-daddy."</p> + +<p>Now, it was a well-known fact that Mrs. Marsden had tried several times to +sell the mule, and old Squire had always declared "the mule was the most +valuable animal on the place, and it was just giving him away to sell him +at the price offered."</p> + +<p>Polly was Squire's granddaughter, and inherited his want of reverence for +sacred things. She was very, very trying, especially on one occasion I +will tell you about.</p> + +<p>Roberta gathered the children together, took her Catechism and primer, +and went down to the summer-house. She noticed that Polly's expression was +sulky, and that she was rolling her eyes at Dilsy. But Polly was always +tormenting Dilsy. Dilsy was a little hunchback negro, that everybody but +Polly felt sorry for and tried to turn the soft side of life to.</p> + +<p>Roberta was not much discouraged by Polly's actions, still she knew it was +a great deal pleasanter to teach her when she was in a good humor, and +concluded to resort to a strategy to mollify her.</p> + +<p>The child was a close observer of nature, and knew how indispensable to +germinate seed was a mellow, rightly prepared soil, and what service +sunshine and timely rainfalls were to growing crops. So she intuitively +drew an analogy in her childish way between the soil the plow-man turns +over and the human heart.</p> + +<p>Now, if there was one thing that Polly delighted in more than another it +was the game of "Chick-a-mie, chick-a-mie, craney-crow."</p> + +<p>So the children joined hands and moved around and around in a circle, +singing:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"Chick-a-mie, chick-a-mie, craney-crow,<br /></span> +<span>Went to the well to wash my toe,<br /></span> +<span>When I got back my chickens was gone.<br /></span> +<span>What o'clock is it, old Buzzard?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then they would fly around looking for the chickens. At least all of them +but Polly would. Polly always took the part of old Buzzard, so she could +flop down in Dilsy's seat, although she knew she would have to get right +up.</p> + +<p>Somehow, that evening Roberta's strategy did not seem to have accomplished +its object, judging from Polly's expression. Still she hoped for the best. +Polly was the biggest, so she always begun with her.</p> + +<p>"Who made you, Polly?"</p> + +<p>No answer immediately; then,</p> + +<p>"Dunno fur sarten, spec' 't wuz Gord."</p> + +<p>A lump gathered in the child's throat. Her bump of reverence was so +largely developed it distressed her to see a want of it in others; she +said "it hurt her feelings."</p> + +<p>She passed it by, however, and ventured on another.</p> + +<p>"What else did God make?"</p> + +<p>"Dunno fur sarten, never seed 'im wuken'."</p> + +<p>"For shame, Polly! God made all things. Say 'God made all things.'"</p> + +<p>"No, never. Never made Dilsy thar. Dilsy nuffin' but er scrap he throw'd +erway when he got fru cutten' out de grow'd-up ones."</p> + +<p>"For shame, Polly! Don't you know everybody has to be little and grow up."</p> + +<p>"No, never! Adam and Eve wuz born'd grow'd up."</p> + +<p>"Well, that was because they were the first people on earth, and there was +nobody to be papa and mamma for 'em, and take care of 'em, when they were +little."</p> + +<p>"Dat's like Dilsy thar. Dilsy never had no daddy."</p> + +<p>"Well, Polly, you haven't answered my question yet. Say 'God made all +things.'"</p> + +<p>"No, never! God never made mammy's twins—no mo' dan he made Dilsy thar. +Dey iz prezak like dem monkeys I seed de time I went en town ter de +circus."</p> + +<p>Now Polly was not an impartial judge of the twins, for she had been +installed as their nurse, and she hated to nurse.</p> + +<p>"For shame, Polly! Those nice little babies. And then, besides, as God +made all things, he made monkeys too, of course."</p> + +<p>"No, never! You can't make me berleeve dat. Gord nerver wase hees valerbel +time maken' monkeys."</p> + +<p>That was the "last straw that broke the camel's back." After trying so +hard to be patient, and especially as she knew it was nothing but pure +contrariness in Polly, for only the Sunday before she had answered every +question correctly, and added some pious interpolations exceedingly +gratifying to her young teacher.</p> + +<p>So she got up, went to her refractory pupil, and lifted her forefinger by +way of giving emphasis to her words.</p> + +<p>But Polly, recognizing that her little mistress's temperature was rising, +felt a proportionate rise in her own, rolled her eyes till nothing but the +whites were visible, and stuck her lower lip out.</p> + +<p>It would be impossible to conceive of a creature uglier or more +aggravating looking than Polly, when she did that way.</p> + +<p>In a flash, down came Roberta's little soft pink palm on her cheek.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Marsden happened to be passing on her way to the quarters to visit a +sick servant, and witnessed the performance. She was amused, but worried +too, that Roberta had allowed herself to be so provoked, for it almost +made a farce of the whole thing; and she knew how much in earnest her +little daughter really was. The child's flushed cheeks and flashing eyes +brought back, O so vividly! another face and another pair of flashing orbs +so like hers. There were tears in Mrs. Marsden's eyes when she went in the +summer-house and took her seat on the bench that circled around it.</p> + +<p>"Did you strike Polly, daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes 'em, Mamma."</p> + +<p>"What did you strike her for, daughter?"</p> + +<p>"She wouldn't say her lesson, Mamma, and she knew it all the time. And she +rolled her eyes at me so, and stuck out her lip and looked so ugly, I just +couldn't help it, that's all."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, daughter, that you gave way to your temper so. For remember, +you are only the sower that plants the seed, and God takes care of all the +rest. If you really try to teach Polly, and she won't be taught, you +mustn't make a personal thing of it, but just leave it with God. Then, +again, daughter, unless you practice self-control, teaching others is a +farce. I know Polly has been very trying, indeed. But I want you to show a +real forgiving spirit, as one should always show when one is working for +the Master. I want you to tell Polly you are sorry you struck her. For you +are sorry, I know—I see it in your face."</p> + +<p>A kind of staccato snuffle was heard in the direction of Polly.</p> + +<p>Roberta gave another look at the surly, unprepossessing countenance, then +said, in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"I will, Mamma, if you will let me hide my face in your lap while I am +saying it."</p> + +<p>"But why hide your face in my lap, daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Because—because—Mamma—I am afraid—if she looks at me as she did +before, that I will slap her again. I don't believe I could keep from it +this evening; I am all out of sorts."</p> + +<p>Afterwards that observation of Polly's, "Dilsy never had no daddy," caused +Roberta no little thought. Really, she was no better off than Dilsy, she +reasoned, for of course the child did not take in the full significance of +the imp's meaning. Nobody ever told her that her papa was dead. Indeed she +had been taught to pray for him every night. She felt sure he was living. +But, where? Why did he not come home and pet her, like other little girls' +papas she knew—pet her, and make her beautiful, sad mother smile +sometimes. For it seemed to the child that she grew sadder and sadder all +the time. There was nobody she could talk to about him, for her mamma's +eyes filled with tears at any chance allusion to him. Aunt Betsy nearly +snapped her head off when she asked her a question, and Uncle Squire, +chatty as he was upon every other subject, would squint his eyes in a +knowing way, puff out his cheeks, and answer, "Lay o'ers ter ketch +meddlers." Yes, there was one person she was sure she could coax into +telling her why her papa never came home to see them all, and that was +dear, good Mam' Sarah, the weaver. When Aunt Betsy scolded Mam' Sarah, she +would get down on the floor by Aunt Betsy and hug her tight around the +knees and say, "God love you, Mistiss," to show her she wasn't mad at her +for scolding her. That was "religion," mamma said. Aunt Betsy would cry, +and say:</p> + +<p>"Get up, Sarah, you make me ashamed of myself."</p> + +<p>Yes, she would go to Mam' Sarah at the loom-house. It was considered a +great treat by Roberta to go down to the loom-house. That was where the +wool, cotton, and flax was carded, spun, and wove, then manufactured into +winter and summer clothes for the negroes on the place. Yard upon yard of +beautiful red and black flannel, blue and brown linseys, and blue and +white striped cottonades, for the women, jeans for the men, and that +coarse fabric called tow-linen made from the refuse of flax. The +wonderful counterpanes, I have mentioned before, were manufactured there +and the linen for sheets and towels. Let me tell you something curious +while I am on the subject of the loom-house: Roberta's grandmother raised +silk-worms in the room adjoining. She fed them on mulberry leaves. Mam' +Sarah told Roberta they made a noise like wind while they were feeding. +Those worms spun fluffy balls of silk, called cocoons, that the old lady +reeled her silk thread from. She had all the silk thread and embroidery +floss she needed.</p> + +<p>There were no silk-worms raised in Roberta's time, and the room was given +up to other uses.</p> + +<p>There was kept the huge iron mortar where the grains of corn were crushed +to make the delicious hominy Kentuckians are so fond of. When rightly +prepared each grain stands out like the beautiful white-plumed corn +captains and colonels that dance up so gaily over beds of live coals. +There were made also the tallow dips, almost the only light used in the +old days on the farms in Kentucky. Pieces of cotton wick were cut the +required length and fastened at regular intervals to sticks of wood. One +of the rows of wicks was dipped in the melted tallow, taken out and +suspended over a vessel to drip. Then another was dipped, and another, +till the same process was gone through with all. That was repeated many +times before the wicks held enough tallow to be used for candles. An +improved method was to run the wicks through tin molds, the required size +and shape, and fasten them at one end with a knot; then pour in the melted +tallow, and set the molds aside for the tallow to harden. The candles were +put in brass, silver, and bronze candlesticks, accompanied by quaint +little waiters that held snuffers, used to nip off the charred wick, as +the tallow melted away from it. Very primitive that, compared with the +brilliant luminaries we have now.</p> + +<p>Well, there were hanks of different colored yarns and strings of red +peppers hanging from the ceiling of the loom-house. Great beams ran +through, called "warping bars," where the various warp threads were +measured and cut for the loom. There were scutchens for dressing flax, +carding combs, spinning wheels, and the great wooden loom with shafts +reaching almost to the ceiling.</p> + +<p>It was prime fun for Roberta to go down to the loom-house in the long +winter evenings, and, sitting down before the open fire-place, help Polly +and the others card the wool in long, smooth "curls," and pile them in +even layers, ready for the spinner.</p> + +<p>It required deft fingers, too, to gather together all the bits of wool +caught on the many sharp teeth of the carding comb, and that, by working +the two parts of the comb up and down, like a see-saw, then turning them +over and smoothing the rolls with the back.</p> + +<p>Those were busy days on the farms in old Kentucky, and happy days, +besides. The very best days for many, both white and black. That +afternoon I will tell you about especially, Mam' Sarah had a +bright-colored rag carpet in the loom. There she sat, her eyes fixed +intently on the pattern before her, shuttles carrying the black, red, and +orange filling flying in and out under her deft, busy fingers. Many a +strip of that gay filling had the little girl cut, sewed, and wrapped. +Mam' Sarah raised her eyes and smiled at the child, but didn't stop +working.</p> + +<p>"Don't it tire you Mam' Sarah?" Roberta once compassionately asked.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, honey! Pear-lak I got sumfin' in my elbers en sumfin' in my +knees that keeps on goen, sumfin' like springs. I never gits tired. I +likes it."</p> + +<p>That was the secret, Mam' Sarah liked it. One can keep on forever when one +"likes it." "A merry heart goes all the day, a sad one tires in a mile."</p> + +<p>Roberta climbed upon a stool and sat there watching Mam' Sarah. She was a +nice person to watch. She had such kind eyes and such a pleasant mouth. +Roberta thought Mam' Sarah's mouth was just made to say "honey." Just like +a "prune" and "prism" mouth I've read of somewhere. Her skin was the color +of coffee, with a little cream in it. She always wore a head-handkerchief, +generally white, and one similar, folded over the bosom of her dress. Mam' +Sarah was very tall, and she had the best lap in the world to coddle down +in, Roberta thought.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illustr-02.jpg" width="60%" +alt="MAM' SARAH. "Sumfin' in my elbers en knees keeps on goen. +I never gits tired—I likes it."" +title="MAM' SARAH. "Sumfin' in my elbers en knees keeps on goen. +I never gits tired—I likes it."" /> +</div> +<p class="center"><b>MAM' SARAH. "Sumfin' in my elbers en knees<br /> +keeps on goen. I never gits tired—I likes it."</b></p> +<table class="enl" border="0" cellpadding="2"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="images/illustr-02.jpg">View Illustration Enlarged</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<div><br /></div> +<div><br /></div> + +<p>Presently Mam' Sarah took her foot off the treadle, went to the +fire-place, lit her pipe, returned to her seat and puffed away in peaceful +silence. Roberta waited for her to get through, for she knew how dearly +she loved her pipe. After a little Mam' Sarah laid her pipe aside and +looked at the child.</p> + +<p>"What's de matter, honey?" she asked. "Your putty eyes full of tears. +Ennybody hurt your feelens?"</p> + +<p>The touch of sympathy coming at that tender moment, like a rose-leaf upon +a full vessel of water, caused the pent-up emotion to overflow.</p> + +<p>Roberta climbed in Mam' Sarah's lap, put her head down on her shoulder and +sobbed like her heart would burst. The old woman caressed the golden head, +and droned out a quaint lullaby, accompanying it with a kind of swaying +motion of her body as though soothing an infant to slumber:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"Who's dis, who's dis, er coddlen down here?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I spec dis iz black mammy's gyurl;<br /></span> +<span>Her skin so white iz mammy's delite.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And her long golden ha'r in kyurl.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Shoo-oo-oo, shoo-oo-oo—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rest, white chile, rest, on black mammy's breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span>"Who's dis, who 's dis, er coddlen down here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wid her eyes full of greeven' tears?<br /></span> +<span>Fru de chink of the do', let de lite po',<br /></span> +<span class="i2">De shadders, my little gyurl skeers.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Shoo-oo-oo, shoo-oo-oo—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rest, white chile, rest, on black mammy's breast.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"This iz the way I useter nuss you when you wuz er baby. You wuz warken' +about fo' you know'd who your mammy wuz. You see, your mar wuz so troubled +after your par went erway, she diden' take no entres' in enny thing much; +po' thing! po' thing! You'd axel cum enter this wurl' with out a rag ter +your back, if I haden' hunted up sum baby cloze your mar wo', en git em +ready."</p> + +<p>"What made my papa go away, Mam' Sarah?" asked the child, quickly.</p> + +<p>"I dunno fur sarten, honey, wot did make him go erway. You see, he wuzen' +lak our fo'ks. Cum frum the Norf. Pear-lak he cuden' take ter our ways, +sumhow. Mars Robert was razed in town, en he diden' lak it out here in the +country. I heered him say he wuz so tired of the country, hee'd be glad +never ter see another blade of grass grow. Mis Betsy tho't that was orful. +He wuz allers arfter your mar ter sell all of us, en sell the place en go +Norf with him ter live. Sumhow he diden' lak culured peepel ter wate on +him. Jes lak hees sister, who cum down here to visit Mis July, en bro't +her little gal with her. When enny of us wud go ni the child, shee'd draw +bak en say, 'och-y,' jes lak our black skins wuz nasty. She seed Judy with +her hans en the biskit do', and she wuden' eat the biskits. She said the +blak rubbed orf in 'em. Shee'd never heered of worfles 'til she cum out +here, en she wuden' tech 'em, cors she tho't we made the holes in em with +our fingers. Yer mar felt mity bad cors de chile wuden' eat nuffin', for +she wuz a po' little wite-face thing ennyhow.</p> + +<p>"Well, you wanter know erbout your par en your mar. It ain' nuffin' but +natchel, en I'll tell you the best I know how. One day I wuz cleneen' your +mar's room. Your par en your mar wuz en de setten' room, en I heered him +say:</p> + +<p>"'It's unly a queshun of er little time, en they'll all be free. Sell 'em +now wile you kin en put the money en your pocket. Ef you wate, they'll be +er dead loss ter you. You made one fulis mistake en not selling Squire; +don't make another.'</p> + +<p>"Lemme tell you wot he mean by that, honey. Squire's mammy, Free Fanny, +cum down here fum the city, en tried ter buy Squire fum yer mar. She +orfered her er big price fur Squire; she wuz rich, en mity keen ter git +her unly son. But Squire, he jes' went on so, got down on his knees ter +your mar en begged her not to sell him ter his mammy. Axel cried, en got +your mar ter cryen', en Mis Betsy en Mars Charley. You never seed enny +thin' lak et. En your mar tole Free Fanny she wud leave it with Squire, en +do jes' ez he sed. Yer par wuz jes' out-dun. Pear-lak he cuden' git over +your mar payen' mo' tenshun ter Squire then ter him.</p> + +<p>"I nerver know'd why Squire diden' want your mar ter sell him ter hees own +mammy. It looked unnatchel. Free Fanny, that's hees mammy, wuz mity rich, +en owned six colored peeple hersef. Shee's liven' yet en the city, en +when she dies Squire will get her money.</p> + +<p>"Well, when yer par sed that, your mar sed:</p> + +<p>"'I cuden' sell them ef I wanter; you know that, Robert, en I don' +wanter.'</p> + +<p>"Then your par, he spoke up sharp:</p> + +<p>"'It's nonsense, it's wuss than nonsense fur the liven' ter be so bound by +the dead. Sarcumstances are allers changen'. I say you've got no rite ter +think of everbody fo' you duz me. En its jes' cum ter this pass, you've +got ter chuse twixt them en me. You've got ter sell 'em en sell this place +en go with me, war I kin make the liven' I wuz eddiketed for, or I'll +brake luse mysef, en go. I can't stan' this life no longer.'</p> + +<p>"Then your mar sed:</p> + +<p>"'I wud be miserbel, Robert, ef I broke my father's will. It would kill +me, I do believe. Besides, I wuden' sell em, ef I diden' have er cent ter +buy er crust of braid with, even ef I wuzen' boun' by the will. En ez fur +sellen' this place, war I wuz born'd en raze, I never spec' ter. I wan'er +live en die rite here. Besides, there's Aunt Betsy. She wud never consent +ter go away fum here, en I cuden' leave her by hersef.'</p> + +<p>"Yer par git up then, en slam the do, 'en I never heerd no mo'. 'Twuz the +fus' out-en-out quarrel they ever had; but they had menny er one arfter +that. Pear-lak one led ter ernuther; en thar wuz nobody ter take hold en +help. Mis Betsy wud pitch in en say things that made 'em madder en +madder. Well, one mawnen' early, Squire went ter the stable ter feed, en +he sed Mars Robert dun took the horses en buggy, en er wagin fur hees +trunk, en gorn. Erbout dinner time the men cum bak with the buggy en +wagin, but no Mars Robert. Fum that day ter this he never cum bak."</p> + +<p>"Did he never write to mamma?" asked the child, her cheeks burning.</p> + +<p>"I berleeve he did, unct; sent her sum money or sumfin'. I heered Mis +Betsy say, 'Put it en bank fur your unborn'd chile,' en your mar sed, 'I +don' want it; I have enuff.'</p> + +<p>"Tempers iz er mity bad thing, honey," continued Mam' Sarah. "Now, I don' +mean that nasty sperit that makes er dog snap hees teef at you, cors your +mar en par never had no temper lak dat, chile. Mo' lak spile chillen, that +dun had ther way so long they cuden' give in, speshly your par. If your +par haden' gorn so fur erway, your mar en him wud made up when you cum. +Chillens teeches fo'ks er heep. But you see, honey, they never had no +chance ter make up. My ole man en me haz menny ups en downs. Sumhow, when +he gits sick, or I haz ter do sumfin' fur him, I furgit erbout bein' mad +at him.</p> + +<p>"Pear-lak, ter me, honey, en I've stidded on it er heep, the mo' you do +fur fo'ks the better you laks 'em. 'Twud bin the same with your mar en +your par, ef your par haden' gorn so fur away. When you marry, honey, you +marry one of the nabor boys."</p> + +<p>"I never mean to marry anybody," said Roberta, getting down from Mam' +Sarah's lap, and shaking out the creases in her muslin dress. She was a +dainty creature. "I am going to be an old maid and take care of mamma. May +be I can make her laugh and sing, after a while, like Aunt Betsy says she +used to. I'll never leave her, never, never. And then there's Aunt Betsy +to take care of, and you, and Aunt Judy and all."</p> + +<p>"Bless your sweet mouf. But we've gotter die fo' long, honey, en be put +erway in the cold groun' fur the wurms ter make meals of; sum of us +cheaten' the grave rite now. What iz you gwiner do then, honey?"</p> + +<p>"Then," said the child, and her face was sober indeed, "when that comes to +pass I shall be very, very sorry for a long time; but I will try to make +others happy, as mamma does, and may be that will comfort me a little. I +will get all the little girls together, like me, that haven't got any +papas and mammas, and all the little hunchback darkies like Dilsy, and all +the sorrowful people like mamma, and I'll love 'em and take care of 'em +until the angel comes for us, the angel that God sends."</p> + +<p>Thus the years rolled by until the war came. Peaceful, happy years they +were to Roberta on the old farm; golden years, in which the child's +character grew and strengthened, with no unkindly influence to warp it, +and her nature, it seemed, became more responsive all the time to the love +that was lavished upon her.</p> + +<p>Mam' Sarah told Roberta that she was going down to the tobacco fields, +early Sad-day morning, July 4, '63, and Roberta coaxed her mamma to let +she and Polly and Dilsy go with her. Although Federal cannon were planted +along the bluff overlooking Green River, their presence occasioned no +especial uneasiness, nor suspicion of impending warfare. Mrs. Marsden as +well as everybody else had grown accustomed to them. Almost during the +entire civil war that point was thought important on account of the +bridge; army stores were constantly shipped South that way.</p> + +<p>So the three children started off, merry as larks, with their trusty +companion.</p> + +<p>On either side of the turnpike road were green fields flushed with light. +The morning air stirred about them, redolent in sweet scents and attuned +with the many voices of summer. They heard the drowsy hum of bees; and +butterflies were there, thick as motes in the midday sun. Roberta's +observant, nature-loving eyes roved delightedly from one point to another +of the sunny landscape, while she repeated gaily to Mam' Sarah a little +couplet. The child's memory was stored with quaint rhymes:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"A country lane between fields of clover<br /></span> +<span>Rippling in sunshine over and over.<br /></span> +<span>There the whirl of gay revelrie,<br /></span> +<span>Butterflies waltzing mad with glee,<br /></span> +<span>Honey-bees, powdered in dust of gold,<br /></span> +<span>Chassezing around like gay knights of old,<br /></span> +<span>Clad in silken doublet and hose;<br /></span> +<span>Lookout, lookout, if you tread on their toes."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Suddenly Polly broke away, pulled up an iron-weed growing on the +road-side, and fell to whipping a large purple thistle. Her thirst grew; +she left the thistle and fell to whipping the rank grass. Then was heard +an angry buzz, as the assaulted bees swarmed out of their defenses and +literally stormed her.</p> + +<p>They settled all over her. Head, face, bare feet and legs were attacked +all at once. They stung her terribly. The death of their comrade was +summarily avenged. She rent the air with her cries, and backed toward Mam' +Sarah, fighting them off as she went from different parts of her body. +Mam' Sarah covered up her retreat as well as she could, saying:</p> + +<p>"I natchel hate ter see fo'ks in trubble, but I ain' er bit sorry fur you. +I never seed ennybody fo' that wuz allers on the war-paf. Them bees haden' +dun nuffin' ter you. They is prezak lak humans. Ef you let 'em erlone you +won't hear from 'em; but fite 'em en they'll fite you back, erver time."</p> + +<p>At the same time that Mam' Sarah and Roberta were fussing over Polly, a +line of glittering points were coming up the rise near the bend of the +river. A column of Confederate soldiers appeared, marching shoulder to +shoulder, their arms shining in the morning sun. On they came, crossing +the fields with the springing step of hope and the steady step of high, +dauntless courage, making directly for the works the Federals had thrown +up and protected with the bodies of felled trees.</p> + +<p>Well-nigh impregnable, those works, from their vast advantage of +position, but in their line of march it was the policy of their leaders to +fight every thing of like nature that came in the way, to hide, if +possible, their real weakness in numbers. So they were told to take those +works, and take them they would. Knowing not the hesitancy of doubt, nor +the trammels of fear, what recked they of danger or of death, as they +sprung to their work?</p> + +<p>Alas! the awful death-trap that caught them, held them, while that deadly +fusilade opened upon them, reddened with their warm, young blood the soil +of their native State—mowed them down, ruthlessly, those hapless +Kentuckians. For ruthless it ever seems, when youth and hope and glorious +promise are offered in vain. At last they fell back, the living; what +flesh and blood could do otherwise? Fell back, but undismayed, and +fighting stubbornly inch by inch, as they bore off their wounded. O, those +darlings of old Kentucky! whose light went out on that July morning nearly +thirty years ago, those eager souls that God sealed with His eternal peace +ere aught had ruffled them, other than the zest of a hurdle-race or quail +hunt on their native bluegrass; many of them scarce passed the mile-stones +of boyhood, fresh from the classroom and tender home circle. Yet, they +plunged into the awful fire of that needless sacrifice, like veterans, to +whom the smoke and crash of charging squadrons is a pastime.</p> + +<p>No braver souls than they ever perished; none more loyal to the land that +gave them birth. Well may Kentucky embalm their worth in enduring tablets +of brass and marble. Let her see to it that she keeps their memory green +in her heart, for they loved her with a love passing the love of woman.</p> + +<p>When Mam' Sarah heard the firing she caught hold of Roberta's hand and +started to run, calling on the others to follow. She heard voices shouting +to her, in reality the voices of the negroes who had gone down to the +tobacco fields, calling to her to turn back. But, in her excitement she +thought they were war cries, and ran as fast as she could away from them.</p> + +<p>"Let's go to the play-house under the hill, Mam' Sarah," said quick-witted +Roberta.</p> + +<p>That play-house was a rocky recess, once the bed of some subterranean +stream, and protected from view by a sycamore's gnarled, knotted branches +extending down, and hung with matted wild grape tendrils. Mam' Sarah had +often gone down there and spread her linen on the grass to bleach, and she +generally took the children along for company. That's how they happened to +find out the rocky recess or cave, for it ran under the hill a +considerable distance. They hadn't been in there long before a shadow +darkened the entrance to the recess. A figure crept toward them with the +muzzle of a gun pointing straight at them.</p> + +<p>"O, don't shoot!" they cried in terror.</p> + +<p>"I won't," responded a boyish voice, and when their tears subsided they +saw it was a mere lad, wounded and bleeding.</p> + +<p>"Are you much hurt?" asked Roberta.</p> + +<p>"O, no; just a scratch."</p> + +<p>His chin fell on his chest. A dry sob burst from him.</p> + +<p>"I wish now I had been killed with the rest of 'em."</p> + +<p>"Have you got a mother?" Roberta asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've got a mother; but what will she say when I tell her I left Bert +lying yonder in that death-trap? That's what's the matter. I wanted to +find Bert and take him away with me. I hunted for him all along among +those trees, and I got cut off from our boys. I think I must have lost my +head, for I forgot which way they went."</p> + +<p>"Who is Bert?" asked Roberta.</p> + +<p>"Bert was my brother, and the best boy that ever lived. Curse them!" he +cried, shaking his clenched fist; "curse the Yankees. What right have they +on Kentucky soil, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"O, don't curse them," said the child; "my papa is a Yankee."</p> + +<p>"Is he?" He stopped short and looked at her with a kind of pity. "I am +sorry for you, that's all; sorry from my heart. I'd rather be a negro +trader."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry too," said Roberta. There was a droop about the corners of her +mouth. "But don't you worry about your brother. Mam' Sarah and me will +find him and do all we can for him."</p> + +<p>"Will you?" said the hoy eagerly; "will you, really? O! that will be too +kind for any thing. I can never forget it, never."</p> + +<p>"But how am I to know him? Is he like you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is like me; we were twins; but ten million times better looking. +He looked like an angel, as he is, as he is."</p> + +<p>Great throes convulsed his chest in his efforts to control himself.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to be a baby, but I was never away from Bert a day in my +life. Say, I can tell you how to know him. He has a picture of mother and +a Testament in his pocket, with his name written on the fly-leaf, 'Albert +Kurl.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, we will find him," said Roberta.</p> + +<p>There was a whispered consultation between the three, Mam' Sarah, Roberta +and the soldier. It seemed entirely satisfactory. And then Mam' Sarah told +Roberta they must hurry home on account of her mammy. "We kin cum back, +honey, en find him."</p> + +<p>And come back they did. They found him and washed the blood away from the +poor mangled features, straightening out the twisted limbs as well as they +could. Roberta took charge of the little pocket Bible with his name +written on the fly-leaf, and the picture of his mother, such a stately, +beautiful lady. Albert Kurl's body was not the only one they looked for. +Mam' Sarah's tears fell like rain, as she went from one to another +searching for curly-haired Mars Charley, the little boy she nursed. She +would have known him, she was sure, no matter how he looked. But, thank +God, he was not there. She remembered so well the morning he rode off on +his prancing horse, with the bands playing Dixie.</p> + +<p>"Charlie," called Aunt Betsy, "take this Bible with you."</p> + +<p>"O Auntie," laughed the merry young fellow, "I can't, but I'll promise to +say, 'Now I lay me down to sleep' every night."</p> + +<p>"O, what duz make fo'ks git so mad with ech other?" said Mam' Sarah. "It +will all cum rite, if they'll only hol' back en trust God."</p> + +<p>Just before tea, Roberta ran down to uncle Squire's cabin, on the hill +back of the spring-house. She told him she had a secret for his ears +alone, made him look under the bed, the cup-board, chairs, and every +place, to be sure there were no eaves-droppers. Then she sat down on a +stool and slided it along towards him. He edged his chair a little closer +towards her, so by the time she began her communication their heads almost +touched. It was comical to see the old man's various facial expressions +while the child talked. He would squint his eyes like he was trying to +sight something away ahead of him, puffed out his cheeks till they +resembled an inflated bellows. Finally, slapped his thigh vigorously, +blurting out, "You iz er sharp one, Lil Misus, you won' never 'go fru er +thicket en pick up er 'oop-pole', he-he-he."</p> + +<p>"Can you manage it for me, Uncle Squire?" asked the child anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Ob cose I kin, Lil Misus, ob cose I kin. Squire's your man."</p> + +<p>"O, you dear, good, Uncle Squire," cried the delighted child. "I feel like +hugging you."</p> + +<p>The old man twisted around in his seat and went through his facial +pantomimes again, pretty much on the principle of a dog wagging his tail +when he is fed.</p> + +<p>Roberta was feeding him with the daintiest of food, the nectar of the gods +to all of us, old and young, high and low.</p> + +<p>Although it was July, there was a bed of glowing embers on the stone +hearth, where Uncle Squire was cooking his supper. He liked the +independence of it. A pot of steaming coffee stood close beside the fire, +slices of middling meat were broiling on the coals, and an ash cake slowly +browning. He nodded his head toward them, on hospitable thoughts intent.</p> + +<p>"Iz you hongry, Lil Missus?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I believe I am, rather, Uncle Squire, and your supper looks nice, +but I think I will save myself for Aunt Judy's waffles. I took her a +basketful of fresh eggs, and she promised me some waffles and scrambled +eggs. You know I adore waffles and scrambled eggs, Uncle Squire."</p> + +<p>Suddenly the child burst into a ringing peal of laughter. Something very +funny was evidently suggested by the eggs.</p> + +<p>"O, Uncle Squire," she cried, "did I tell you how I got the best of Jemimy +at last?"</p> + +<p>"Iz dat de hen dat's been so bobstreperous, you bin tellen' me erbout, Lil +Missus?"</p> + +<p>"The very same, Uncle Squire. O 'twas nice, the way I managed her +yesterday. I let all of the good hens out, and I said, 'Jemimy, you've got +to stay in. You haven't been doing your duty lately at all. I am just +ashamed of you. You will ruin your reputation. People will stop coming +here to get your eggs to set with." Aunt Betsy says, "Jemimy, A bird that +can sing, and wont sing, ought to be made to sing, and I am going to do my +duty by you. I am just going to keep you in here until you get in the +habit, the habit, you hear, Jemimy, of laying one egg a day.' You know, +Uncle Squire, habit is every thing. Jemimy cackled, just like she was +going right at it. But I said, 'No, Jemimy, you've fooled me before.' Then +she ruffled up her feathers and flew around, determined to get out. I was +firm with her, Uncle Squire, and wouldn't let her out. This evening I went +there and found two beautiful eggs, fresh laid, in her nest."</p> + +<p>"You iz er sharp one, Lil Missus; I allers sed it. Who'd s'poze now you +cud make dat hen underston' lak er human creeter, dat she gotter turn over +er new leaf en do better. Pear-lak, sum chillen's born'd en de wurl' +now-er-days wid ez much sense ez grow'd-up fo'ks."</p> + +<p>As they sat there a rumble of thunder was heard. Roberta listened +intently: "'Tater wagens, Uncle Squire, <i>big</i> 'tater wagens, rumbling over +the bridge."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Lil Missus, it's comen'. En de stormier 'tis, en de darker 'tis, de +better fur him en me."</p> + +<p>That night about nine o'clock Mrs. Marsden heard a low but distinct rap on +the shutters of the sitting-room window opening on the porch. She happened +to be there alone. It startled her for an instant, but she soon recovered +composure and asked:</p> + +<p>"Who is it?"</p> + +<p>"A friend," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"What do you want"</p> + +<p>"Shelter for a few hours, a bite to eat, and—I will tell you more anon."</p> + +<p>"These are dreadful times, and I am not in the habit of taking strangers +in at this hour of the night."</p> + +<p>"All right," said he on the outside; then added with the glibness of a +Fourth of July stump speaker, "that is, if you can reconcile it with your +conscience to turn the cold shoulder on a fellow being in the desperate +strait I am in."</p> + +<p>"Where did you come from?" was next asked.</p> + +<p>"From those who are wandering up and down the earth, seeking how they may +devour me."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going to?"</p> + +<p>"Destination unknown. Depends somewhat on yourself."</p> + +<p>Without another word, Mrs. Marsden turned the lamp down low, and hurried +towards the front hall door.</p> + +<p>"Take a light with you, Julia," called Aunt Betsy, from the bed-room +adjoining.</p> + +<p>"Not for the world, Auntie."</p> + +<p>Her acute ear had caught the tramp of horses' hoofs coming through the +avenue. When she opened the door, a tall man dressed in the Federal +uniform stood outside, his hair disheveled by wind, and face shining with +dashes of rain. She locked and bolted the door after him, and led the way +to the dining-room, where Roberta sat playing "checkers" with a +boyish-looking soldier, also dressed in Federal uniform.</p> + +<p>"Give this gentleman some cake and wine, dear," she said to Roberta, "and +entertain him until I return; and you," to the other soldier, "go outside +for a little; Squire will show you where to go."</p> + +<p>Her surmises were correct. Heavy spurred boot-heels crossed the porch +floor; there was a thundering knock with the butt-end of a riding-whip on +the outside of the door.</p> + +<p>Inwardly quaking, and strengthening herself with silent prayer, she +opened the door. A squad of Federal soldiers stood before her. One of them +lifted his hat, and said courteously:</p> + +<p>"We have come with authority from headquarters to search your house, +Madam; we understand you are harboring rebels."</p> + +<p>"You are at liberty to search my house," she answered in a clear, +penetrating voice. "You will find some women and children, and one of your +cloth, here."</p> + +<p>They searched sitting-room, bed-room, and passed into the dining-room; saw +a brother Federal there partaking of light refreshments; were pleasantly +accosted by him, and told he belonged to Company G, of Colonel M.'s +Michigan volunteers; had been sick and was out on furlough at the house of +a friend. One of them, a social kind of fellow, lingered on the threshold, +amused at the badinage passing between the soldier and the beautiful +child.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you are not a rebel," the soldier was saying, "you can't make me +believe that; you've got too honest a face to be a rebel. Now, just +confess you are glad of the drubbing our boys gave 'em this morning."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not glad;" said Roberta, her eyes were filling with tears and her +lips quivering, "I'm just as sorry as I can be."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I'll tell you what I expect the trouble is. You've got a +sweetheart among them; and if I was you, I'd trade him off for a Union +sweetheart right away."</p> + +<p>"I don't want any sweetheart at all; but if I wanted one I wouldn't have a +Yankee." Her eyes flashed and her cheeks crimsoned.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" continued her tormentor. "They are lots nicer than the rebels; +have more to eat, and wear better clothes. Besides, didn't the rebels +steal your mamma's best horses, the last time they passed this way, and +leave her nothing but two starved, broken-down nags in their place? Didn't +they, now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," the child was reluctantly forced to admit. Suddenly her face +brightened; she almost trembled with eagerness. "Who stole my mamma's +negroes, I wonder; every one of them but Mam' Sarah, and Aunt Judy, and +Uncle Squire, and Polly and Dilsy—every one; who did that?"</p> + +<p>That sally provoked such a peal of laughter and put everybody in such a +good humor, possibly the search was not prosecuted as vigorously as it +might have been otherwise.</p> + +<p>The next morning about sunrise two Federal soldiers sat on their horses +before Mrs. Marsden's front door. The family were assembled on the porch. +They were always early risers, and their being up a little earlier than +usual would have caused no comment. Possibly the leave-taking might have +seemed a little queer to prying eyes.</p> + +<p>"Take care of my gun," the youngest-looking of the soldiers whispered to +Roberta, "and if I live, I'll come back before long and get it."</p> + +<p>"Will you?" said the child, delightedly. "Then I'll take care of it, +sure." An instant afterwards added, with the serio-comic imitation of the +fire of older tongues, so common at that time, "They will have to walk +over my dead body before they take it from me."</p> + +<p>As the soldiers rode through the avenue the murkiness overhead cleared, +and shafts of clear gold fell earthward; each blade of grass sparkled like +a diamond, and tiny globules hung from the leaves of the trees, reflecting +countless dazzling prisms of light. A lark started up from the high grass +of the meadow, and soared aloft, dropping soft trills and quavers and +clear, fresh warbles from his happy little throat. Just outside of the +avenue gate they met a line of milch-cows en route for the "cuppen." They +moved swiftly as though there was purpose in their movements, and glanced +about with eager eyes. Slender streams of milk flowed from their swollen +teats, and marked their passage along the road-side. In barnyards near +calves were waiting, frantic to get at those same swollen teats. The black +boy who had them in charge opened the avenue gate for them, then stood and +looked after the soldiers, the very embodiment of shrewd, impish humor. +Hands burrowing in his pockets; his body, from the waist up, thrown back; +his mouth stretched in a broad grin, and indeed every feature replete +with fun. When they passed out of ear-shot, he put his thumb on the end of +his nose, and bawled out: "It's all in my eye, Betty Martin," and wound up +by turning somersaults on the grass by the roadside.</p> + +<p>Later on the sun glared like a great ball of brass. Anon a light breeze +sprung up with a breath of moisture in it.</p> + +<p>"That's good," said the oldest soldier, taking off his cap and baring his +forehead to it; "that's good. 'Twill make more bearable the rays of yonder +heater."</p> + +<p>Their bodies were refreshed and spirits hopeful in proportion. They did +not converse much; seemed to be taken up with noting the country, as +though comparing it with some memoranda retained in recollection only. +They were evidently strangers to that locality, for they relied for +direction upon milestones and the sign-posts that appeared at intersecting +roads. At last, when they had passed over about ten miles, they came to an +Irishman beating rock by the roadside.</p> + +<p>The oldest of the travelers was accustomed to read the countenance, for he +was bred a lawyer, and gave up a large practice in criminal courts to join +the army. He observed a shrewdness in the Irishman's countenance that he +thought might possibly be of service; but it was a delicate matter to get +at in those times, when one might well be afraid often of the members of +one's own household.</p> + +<p>"Good morning," he finally said.</p> + +<p>"Good morning to ye," the Irishman responded without raising his eyes from +his rock pile.</p> + +<p>"Have you heard the news?" was next asked.</p> + +<p>"Faith, an' so much of it flies here and there, if a mon lets all of it +roost, 'twill stale his pace of mind like the thaving crows stale his +corn."</p> + +<p>"What I mean is, the fight yesterday at Green River bridge. Ar'n't you +glad of the drubbing our boys gave the rebels? There's many a mother's son +of them lying in those green bottom lands there, that the morning's +reveille will never awaken more."</p> + +<p>The face of the youngest soldier was turned away. His eyelashes were wet, +and his teeth gnawed his under lip. Once he drew his coat sleeve across +his eyes, and once he looked as if the conversation had become unbearable, +almost.</p> + +<p>"Weel, an' when it comes to that, I am the last man to be glad at the +death of a sinner, an' I take it, many a sinner handed in his checks there +yistiddy."</p> + +<p>After a few general remarks the soldiers rode on. When they had gone about +three hundred yards they stopped, held a brief consultation, and finally +returned. The oldest man, who seemed to be the speaker, said:</p> + +<p>"We have been struck with your answers to our questions, and have come +back to confide to you our situation and ask your aid. We are not," he +continued, "what we seem to be."</p> + +<p>"If ye are not what ye seem to be, what are ye?"</p> + +<p>"We are escaped rebel prisoners trying to make our way south. At least I +am, and that young fellow there was in this fight yesterday and got cut +off from his command. We believe you are a friend to our cause, and we +must have your advice and aid, for we are here without knowledge of people +or country."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the Irishman, "if ye are decaving me the sin is all yer own. +If ye be honest an' true men, follow my advice and all will be well. I +live just two miles up the road, the first white frame house on the left +hand side of the road, with a barn in front of it. The country is full of +spies, an' you must be careful. Just ye ride up where I live, get off your +horses and go in. Make my wife take the horses to the stable and feed 'em. +Then order your dinner, an' when you've eaten it, drive the wimmen and +children out of the house and raise the divil ginerilly."</p> + +<p>The soldiers went on, and the Irishman resumed his work. In less than an +hour a neighbor rode up in hot haste, told him the Yankees had taken +possession of his house and driven wife and children into the road.</p> + +<p>"Ye say they have?" responded he, laying down his hammer and serenely +lighting his pipe.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! come on and do something for your family."</p> + +<p>"Holy saints and angels, defend us! What kin I do? It's not me all by +meself, neighbor, that kin whip out the whole Yankee army. Gineril Lee +an' Stonewall Jackson have been thrying it for some time, an' faith, if +they can't, how kin I?"</p> + +<p>The dismayed messenger returned to report to the excited wife and children +that the husband and father would do nothing for them. Again and again was +a messenger sent, but to no purpose. The Irishman sat and plied his hammer +to his rocks in serene quiet.</p> + +<p>About four in the afternoon a rockaway drove up, stopped a few yards away, +and a lady got out, accompanied by a little girl, and approached the man +at the rock-pile. They were Mrs. Marsden and Roberta.</p> + +<p>"May I ask," said the lady hesitatingly, "if two soldiers dressed in +Federal uniform have passed here this morning; and how long since? The +reason I ask is this, a flying rumor has reached me that two soldiers +wearing the Federal uniform were arrested not far from here and carried to +headquarters as Confederate spies."</p> + +<p>"Faith, an' the shoe is on the other foot intirely, madam. It's meself +that's been arristed, or it amounts to about the same thing. Them same +soldiers you ax about have taken possession of my house, driv my wife an' +childers out of doors, and raised the divil ginerilly."</p> + +<p>"O! I am so sorry to hear it," answered Mrs. Marsden. Then noticing a sly +twinkle in the man's eyes, utterly out of keeping with his words, the +quick-witted woman instantly caught on to the "cue."</p> + +<p>"O! Mr. McGarvy!" she cried, "for you are Mr. McGarvy, ar'n't you? I +might have known you would have helped them to carry out the blind, if +they came anywhere near you; but I thought they were going a different +way."</p> + +<p>She added, admiration kindling her features as she looked at him, "I don't +believe there is another man in Kentucky, sharp enough to conceive of such +a blind, or self-sacrificing enough to carry it out, and may God bless +you."</p> + +<p>She turned away, her beautiful eyes filled with tears.</p> + +<p>At sundown Mr. McGarvy hitched his horse to his cart, lit his pipe, and +jolted slowly homeward. His wife and children were still in the road, and +the soldiers still had possession of the house.</p> + +<p>"I would not have believed it, Jim McGarvy," cried his wife, her bosom +panting with rage, "not if the Holy Mither of God had tould me."</p> + +<p>"Have they hurt you, Rosy, darlint?"</p> + +<p>"Not them, Jim McGarvy. They have been civil spoke enough. It's you that's +hurt me—you that have gone back on the wife of your bosom an' your own +flesh an' blood."</p> + +<p>"Whisht, Rosy, darlint, whisht." He got as close to her as circumstances +would allow. "Them soldiers are our own boys, who are trying to make their +way south, I've jis' had them do all that for a blind, jis' for a blind, +the poor fellers. Sure, an' you know, Rosy, darlint, that Jim McGarvy is +a spotted man, an' the very first one in these parts that the inimy would +go for."</p> + +<p>Wondrous the transformation.</p> + +<p>"Is that thrue?" she cried, with beaming face, forgetting already the +day's worry, "are they raly our own boys? Sure, an' it's a dolt I am, not +to know what the tallest one meant when he whispered to me:</p> + +<p>"When the South is free, I am for Jim McGarvy for any office he wants."</p> + +<p>"Whisht, Rosy, darlint, birds of the air carry tidings; but come along now +and get us a hot supper, and a good one too to stay our stomachs, for I've +got to carry the boys further on their way to-night, the holy Mither of +God bless 'em!"</p> + +<p>Now I am going to tell you how Roberta kept her promise about taking care +of the soldier boy's gun. Not many weeks after that memorable Fourth, +Squire came home in great excitement, saying the soldiers were searching +every house for contraband articles, and soon would be at theirs.</p> + +<p>"I should be very sorry," said Mrs. Marsden, "to have to give up the suit +of gray jeans I've made for Charlie and the dear boy's boots."</p> + +<p>"You won't have to give them up, mamma," responded Roberta, who had lain +awake night after night, planning what she should do in the event the +soldiers came after them. Now what do you suppose she did? Pushed boots +and clothes to the very bottom of the flour-barrel under the flour. Not +even our own Yankee Bligh could have detected their whereabouts. Then she +dressed the gun up in baby clothes, with long white robe and cloak and +pretty baby cap; tied a veil over the cap. When she was through, it really +looked very much like a baby. She gave the gun to Polly, and told her to +walk up and down the porch with it and sing a lullaby. Polly didn't like +counterfeit babies any more than she liked real babies.</p> + +<p>"Lawdy! Lawdy! Lawdy!" said Polly, "iz you rite sho', Lil Missus, thar +ain' nuffin' in it that's gwiner blow my head orf?"</p> + +<p>"Right sure, Polly. Uncle Squire cleaned it out yesterday."</p> + +<p>"O, Lawdy, Lawdy, Lawdy! I dunno howter ketch on ter de creeter, nohow. +I'd redder nuss real live babies, I wud."</p> + +<p>"Be a good girl, Polly. Take hold this way. Now sing:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"Dear little baby, shut your eyes,<br /></span> +<span>Stars are shining in the skies;<br /></span> +<span>Soon an angel will at you peep,<br /></span> +<span>Whisper to you while you sleep.<br /></span> +<span>Dear little baby, what do you hear?<br /></span> +<span>Mamma's voice, sweet and clear.<br /></span> +<span>Why, mamma's the angel, baby dear."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"I dunno it; I never heered it."</p> + +<p>"Be a good girl, Polly, and I will give you my new China tea-set."</p> + +<p>"I don' like cheeny dishes, caze I have ter wash 'em when dey gets dirty. +I'd redder eat orf chips en frow 'em erway."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I'll give you the pretty colored paper dolls I cut out of +Godey's Lady's Book; any thing, just so you make believe it's a real live +baby. Sing this, then:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"Folks, won't you go? Folks, won't you go?<br /></span> +<span>Folks, won't you go to see the monkey show?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"You know it, Polly; I heard you singing it yesterday."</p> + +<p>(The soldiers were coming up the avenue.)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"The royal tiger will be there,<br /></span> +<span>The ring-tailed monkey<br /></span> +<span>And the polar bear;<br /></span> +<span>The royal tiger will be there," etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"I'll cross my heart, I dunno it. I natchelly 'spize babies, ennyhow. If I +wuz er blue-gum nigger, I'd bite 'em," said Polly, showing her teeth +viciously.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Roberta in desperation, "I'll give you my red sash that +you think so pretty; I will indeed."</p> + +<p>That did the work; Polly's love of finery was intense. She began to sing +in a surly tone, that straightened out as visions suggested by the song +flitted before her. The circus was her delight.</p> + +<p>If the soldiers, in passing, noticed the incongruous lullaby, they made +no comment. Possibly, they were not family men.</p> + +<p>They went through the house; pushed their bayonets in the mattresses, +lifted them up and looked underneath; searched every nook and corner below +stairs, then tramped up. Roberta called to Polly:</p> + +<p>"Is the baby asleep, Polly?"</p> + +<p>"No; yes. Lawdy, Lawdy! I'ze gwiner drap it, sho'; it's sliden'."</p> + +<p>Roberta looked through the window at the counterfeit baby; she flew out on +the porch, took it away from the awkward nurse, saying:</p> + +<p>"You will never make a nurse, Polly; there's no use trying to teach you;" +carried it in and laid it on the dismantled bed, just in time to prevent +the drapery from slipping off and exposing the shining metal. She darkened +the room, and sat there patting it and singing to it till the search was +over and the soldiers gone. Then the child put her head in her mamma's +lap, and sobbed from pure nervousness. But she had kept her promise, the +loyal little soul. In years to come, she made and kept another promise, +that the first one led to, as links in a chain.</p> + +<p>In the muddy back yard Polly was strutting, proud as a peacock, in her +scarlet sash. The ends swept the ground, and she glanced back over her +shoulder at them every step. Roberta burst out laughing, Polly looked so +ridiculous.</p> + +<p>"O, Mamma!" she said, "do call Polly in and sing to her about—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"The little girl that was so vain,<br /></span> +<span>Strutting up a dirty lane,<br /></span> +<span>With mamma's best dress for a train,<br /></span> +<span>O, fie, fie, fie! O, fie, fie, fie!<br /></span> +<span>She'd better sweep cob-webs from the sky;<br /></span> +<span>She'd better bake, she'd better stew,<br /></span> +<span>She'd better knit, she'd better sew;<br /></span> +<span>O, fie, fie, fie! O, fie, fie, fie!<br /></span> +<span>The little girl put her finger in her eye,<br /></span> +<span>Looked down at her shoe, and said 'boo-oo.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Now I am going to tell you how the soldier boy kept his promise.</p> + +<p>Old Squire had loaded a wagon with pumpkins, golden-brown russet apples, +and splendid potatoes to take into town, a few miles off. He promised to +give the children a lift as far as the forks of the road. Roberta coaxed +Aunt Judy to fix her a nice lunch. They wanted to gather wild grapes and +nuts in the woods and have a tea-party besides. Aunt Judy fried her some +spiced apple turnovers, made beaten biscuits, crisp and brown, split them +while they were hot, buttered them, and put thin slices of pink ham +between. Then she got at least one half of an iced white mountain cake, +left from Sunday, and packed that in with the other things. Little did +Roberta suspect who would eat that lunch, and think it the best lunch ever +eaten.</p> + +<p>It was good; Aunt Judy knew all about fixing lunches. She was a great +"Camp-meeting" woman.</p> + +<p>Roberta took up the basket and flew out to the wood-pile, where Uncle +Squire was cutting wood. He saw her coming, and called out:</p> + +<p>"Look out, honey! chips iz mity keerless things, you never know when they +gwiner fly at you, like some fo'ks I knows."</p> + +<p>"Old man," called Judy from the kitchen, "that ash-hopper is plum dry. +Don' forgit ter put some water in it fo' you goze."</p> + +<p>"Dat ash-hopper allers iz dry. It's like me since Mars Charlie's bin gorn. +Judy," he called out again, with a mighty bravado of voice, "I am got no +time ter be fillin' dat ash-hopper fo' I goze, you knows dat."</p> + +<p>"I can wait, Uncle Squire," said the child, always willing to make peace +at any cost to her own convenience.</p> + +<p>"'Twon' take no mo' dan er minit to fill it up, honey, I got de water +ready. I jes' wanter show her I wuzen' gwiner be bullied inter it."</p> + +<p>The children thought it was prime fun to be jostled along in the wagon +with the pumpkins and potatoes. Inconveniences in youth are diversions +only. One seeks them.</p> + +<p>If the children who read this story have never seen our glorious Kentucky +woods in October, they can have but faint idea of its beauty. It is just +like some vast cathedral—aisle upon aisle opening before one, columned +and gorgeous beyond description, in infinite variety of tint, shaded from +blood-red to pink, from orange to tawny yellow, from golden russet-brown +to more delicate wood-colors.</p> + +<p>Under foot is a tesselated floor, mosaiced with the same gorgeous colors. +From every quarter is wafted herby odors. Here and there one comes to +trees whose leaves are all a vivid glowing crimson. You can't imagine any +thing more beautiful when the light shines through them. Through openings +in the columned aisles one sees fields steeped in golden glamour, where +float feathery tufts of down. There also linger a few late golden-rods, +and butterflies with limbs chilled by the crisp air.</p> + +<p>Later on those same meadows are enveloped morn and eve in veils of +floating white mist; the golden-rod is gone; the butterflies lie in their +shroud; but grape-vines are loaded with rich purple clusters, ripened by +the frost. The beautiful persimmon trees glow with luscious fruit. +Roberta's mother used to gather the persimmon apples and pack them away in +glass jars, in alternate layers of fruit and sugar. They are as nice as +dates. Wherever you turn the ground is covered with nuts—hickories, +walnuts, and chestnuts. You can hear them "drop" every few seconds. +Sometimes I think our Kentucky woods were made for children.</p> + +<p>That afternoon I am going to tell you about, when the forks of the road +were reached, Squire lifted the children down, cautioning them against +lingering too late, mounted his wagon and was about starting when there +appeared a little ahead two horsemen riding abreast and coming directly +toward the children. They were dressed in gray, and sat their horses with +the air of "Charlie has come to his own again," softly singing snatches of +"My Old Kentucky Home." Roberta could hardly believe her eyes.</p> + +<p>"O, Uncle Squire, it's the rebels, it's the rebels!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's 'pintly dem," he answered, a broad grin overspreading his face.</p> + +<p>When they came up with the children they drew rein, and one of them +reached out his hand to Roberta. It was the soldier boy.</p> + +<p>"Have you come for your gun?" asked she.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illustr-03.jpg" width="80%" +alt=""Have you come for your gun?" the child asked. +"Yes, and to see you," was the reply." +title=""Have you come for your gun?" the child asked. +"Yes, and to see you," was the reply." /> +</div> +<p class="center"><b>"Have you come for your gun?" the child asked. "Yes, and to see you," was the reply.</b></p> +<table class="enl" border="0" cellpadding="2"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="images/illustr-03.jpg">View Illustration Enlarged</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<div><br /></div> +<div><br /></div> + +<p>"Yes, and to see you."</p> + +<p>The child had no coquetry in her nature, else would have noticed the +earnest look in the boy's brown eyes that accompanied his significantly +spoken words. As it was, she only smiled and said:</p> + +<p>"Well, I kept it for you; and are you as hungry as you were that night?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, I reckon so. Soldiers generally are; at least our boys are. +But why do you ask? I wanted you to forget how many beat biscuits I ate."</p> + +<p>"Because I've got a nice lunch here that I will give you. Aunt Judy fixed +it up for me to have a tea party in the woods."</p> + +<p>"Who were you going to have at your tea party—Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said the child, a fine scorn kindling her features; "no, +indeed. We were going to have General Morgan and Uncle Charlie and you. Of +course it was make-believe. That's the way we play, but we like it ever so +much."</p> + +<p>"Well, if I take your chicken fixings you can't have any tea party."</p> + +<p>"O yes, I can. I can just make-believe some hungry soldier has come along +and eaten it all up."</p> + +<p>"There is no make-believe about that," laughed the soldier; "that's real."</p> + +<p>There was a smothered sound in the direction of Polly. The boy turned +toward her, evidently seeing her for the first time.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with you, tar baby?"</p> + +<p>"I wuz gwiner tell you erbout de time de Union sojer stole Miss Betsy's +bee-hives, en he wuz dat hongry he pitch en ter de honey fo' de bees got +out, en one git en hees frote en stung him; Lawdy, how he hollered! But I +won't, cors you called me tar baby."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, I meant no offense. I just have an unfortunate habit +of calling things by their names. I am like the hungry old lady who sung:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"'Alack-alack, alack-alack!<br /></span> +<span>A dinner's a dinner, a snack's a snack.<br /></span> +<span>I can call them none other, alack-alack!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"But I think I have gotten the gist of your story from the preamble; so +am not inconsolable. Anyhow," he turned to Roberta, "if you wait here a +little you can have a sure-enough General Morgan and Uncle Charlie at your +tea party. They are just behind. Only, if they are as hungry as I am, I +don't know how they will like that make-believe part."</p> + +<p>Away ran the child to Squire that she might tell him Uncle Charlie was +just behind, and urge him forward to meet him. The soldier looked after +her with a rueful expression.</p> + +<p>"'Le roi est mort; vive le roi!'" he said—("'The king is dead; live the +king!') My little sweetheart is a gem, if she did go back on me for Uncle +Charlie."</p> + +<p>While Lewie Kurl talked with Roberta the animal he rode seemed laboring +under strange excitement. She looked back at the horses in old Squire's +wagon, neighed joyously and with spirit. Absorbed in his conversation, +Lewie let the reins fall loosely about the mare's neck. In an instant she +turned and made for the wagon. Then began a pantomimic show of +affectionate demonstrations. The old comrades of the stable and meadow +kissed and caressed each other fondly. It required a firm hold upon the +reins to separate them. When Lewie rejoined his companion his mare tossed +her mane angrily at the turn affairs had taken. Little shivers of +dissatisfaction ran over her. She continued to look back and neigh, almost +viciously, and one of the horses in old Squire's wagon responded in like +manner.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>Back again to the bluegrass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Horse and rider too;<br /></span> +<span>Back again to the old haunts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Comrades tried and true.<br /></span> +<span>Forgot, the weary marches;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forgot, the hunger and cold.<br /></span> +<span>Back again to the bluegrass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hearts whose worth is gold.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>As old Squire and the children moved on a squad of soldiers mounted the +crest of the hill, then halted. They met right there a man in citizen's +clothes, on horseback, with a pair of fat saddle-bags swung across the +pommel of his saddle. The men in gray surrounded him instantly; one seized +hold of his bridle-rein, another made threatening demonstrations toward +his saddle-bags.</p> + +<p>"O, Uncle Squire," cried Roberta, "that's Mr. Shanks, that's Sallie's dear +grandpapa! O, my heart just trembles for him. I hope they won't do any +thing to him."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dat's him. He dun kotch up wid at las'. He gwiner be paid back fur +all hees meanness at las'."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" asked he who held the bridle-rein.</p> + +<p>"Home, to my family."</p> + +<p>"What have you got in your saddle-bags?" was next asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing but a calico dress for my wife."</p> + +<p>"Well, hand it out; I know a 'print' when I see it," responded he who had +made the threatening demonstrations towards the saddle-bags—was even then +diving in them.</p> + +<p>"O, Uncle Squire," cried Roberta, "won't they give the calico dress back +to him? Poor Mrs. Shanks needs it awfully. The one she has on is all +faded, and her elbows are out."</p> + +<p>"If he's gotter calicer dress en thar fur her," grunted old Squire, +"'twill be de fus'. I heered her say he never give her de rappens ob her +finger, en dat she wuden min' hees whippen' her ef hee'd unly previde fur +her."</p> + +<p>He who was diving in Mr. Shanks' saddle-bags, drew thence a long slip of +white paper with something printed on it in black letters. He cleared his +throat, and read aloud the following:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Fellow-citizens, I took up arms for my country in the War of 1812, + and were it not for the infirmities of age, would be again in the + saddle, to drive that notorious horse-thief and scoundrel, John + Morgan, from the State."</p></div> + +<p>"You would, hey?" said the soldier. "Well, wait here a little, and see +what General Morgan says about that."</p> + +<p>A dust was even then arising ahead, and in a few moments a squad of +Confederates dashed up. The foremost one, a soldierly looking-man, with a +pair of keen, humorous eyes, halted beside the group on the hill-side.</p> + +<p>"What are you detaining this gentleman for?" he asked, in a clear, +ringing voice; "we are not making war on citizens."</p> + +<p>"Well; but, General, just see this circular," handing him one.</p> + +<p>General Morgan took it, glanced over it, then with a shrug of his +shoulders and a "pshaw!" dropped it to the ground, and rode on. The +vidette followed him.</p> + +<p>"Well; but, General, what must we do with the prisoner?"</p> + +<p>"Do?" responded the General, "Do? Why, turn him loose. He is nothing but a +little constable."</p> + +<p>Up to the moment Roberta heard the circular read, her sympathies were all +with Mr. Shanks, the poor man looked so terribly frightened. He had +started out with his circulars, not knowing the Confederates were within a +hundred miles; and he expected every moment to have a bullet put through +his brain, or be swung up to the nearest limb. When she heard the circular +read, the wind veered from another quarter altogether.</p> + +<p>As the soldiers rode off, the released prisoner came swiftly towards +Squire and the children.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would let me empty these drotted things under them 'taters an' +apples, thar," he said.</p> + +<p>Roberta came forward before Squire could reply.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, you can't put those dreadful things in our wagon. No, indeed. +I heard what you said about my Uncle Charlie, just the dearest and best +man on this earth."</p> + +<p>"I never said nothing about your Uncle Charlie," said Mr. Shanks, +recognizing the child.</p> + +<p>"Well, you said it about General Morgan, and that's the same thing. My +Uncle Charlie is one of his captains, and I think General Morgan is the +bestest man that ever lived not to do something awful to you. If I was +you, I would turn over a new leaf, and stop writing bad things about +people, your neighbors, too; and the Bible says, 'Love your neighbors as +yourself.' Mamma read it to me last night."</p> + +<p>Who was that dashing towards them in a cloud of dust? Dust whitening his +long, unkempt beard; whitening his brown, curly locks; belted all around +with pistols and knives; teeth glistening through his tawny mustache; +radiant, positively radiant with joy, as he leaped from his panting horse, +and fairly crushed the startled child in his arms? She screamed aloud in +nervous terror.</p> + +<p>"O, you goosey!" said he, "don't you know Uncle Charlie?"</p> + +<p>The next minute he had sprung on to the wagon wheel, squeezed old Squire's +hand until the bones snapped, and snatched up a hatful of russets, +craunching one of them between his white teeth, stopping after each bite +to ask questions about everybody at home. Well, I reckon there were never +three happier children than the three who returned home that afternoon, +with the tall soldier walking beside them, leading his horse, and eating +russet apples as fast as ever he could. Old Squire jolted slowly along +behind, grinning from ear to ear.</p> + +<p>Uncle Charlie wouldn't sleep in the house that night, but wrapped himself +in his blanket and laid down on the ground under a great elm tree in the +corner of the yard, with his faithful horse close by. Mrs. Marsden and +Roberta watched from an upper porch, and old Squire by the avenue gate.</p> + +<p>At least Roberta thought she watched, but next morning mamma told her with +tears in her eyes that Uncle Charlie was gone, that somebody had given him +away. Uncle Squire heard the Federals coming, and told him, and he barely +had time to escape.</p> + +<p>In February of '64 old Squire came out from town one afternoon strutting, +as Aunt Judy said, for all the world just "lak er turkey goberler." He +made six consecutive trips to the sitting-room, carrying one stick of wood +each time as a pretext, before he caught Roberta's eye. When he finally +succeeded, he beckoned mysteriously to her, and she got right up and +followed him from the room. He led her out of ear-shot of the others +before he told her what he wanted.</p> + +<p>"Lil Missus, how's it happen dat you never axes me no mo' whar your par +is?"</p> + +<p>"Because, Uncle Squire, I am afraid you will tell me 'lay o'ers to catch +meddlers.'"</p> + +<p>"I neber sed erlong wid dat, honey, 'en you'd be de fus' one caught.' +Well, if I never sect dat, thar's nuffin' sartin erbout who I means when I +sez 'lay o'ers ter ketch meddlers'; you musen jump et conclugeons, honey. +Ennyhow, you ax me ergin, en see what I'll say dis time."</p> + +<p>She asked him, her eager eyes uplifted to his face, her small hands +clasped, wondering and hope bursting into instant full dawn. A way hope +has of doing in youth.</p> + +<p>The old man went through his accustomed facial pantomime, slapped himself +on the thigh, and blurted out:</p> + +<p>"In town wid de Unions. He is Kyurnel Robert Marsden now."</p> + +<p>"Who told you, Uncle Squire?" Her eyes were filled with sudden gathered +tears, and her scarlet lips trembled.</p> + +<p>"Jim, dat is Kyurnel Tadlock's man, telled me. He seed him en know'd him. +But he is mity sick, honey, mity sick."</p> + +<p>"O, Uncle Squire," cried the delighted child, "won't mamma go right +straight in town and take me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, now, dat's er gray hoss ob ernuther color. Mebbe she mout, en mebbe +she mouten."</p> + +<p>The child's countenance fell, her sensitive nature touched. Already a +womanly intuition, wonderful in one so childlike and ignorant of the +world's ways, begun to stir faintly.</p> + +<p>"If mamma can't leave Aunt Betsy, don't you reckon she will let me go with +you in town to see him, Uncle Squire?"</p> + +<p>"You en your mar fur dat, honey. But Squire's your man."</p> + +<p>That night after Aunt Betsy had been given her medicine and tucked away, +the child climbed to her mamma's lap and coddled down to her. +Instinctively she wanted the magnetism of touch to help her. And then, +with her warm breath playing about her mamma's cheek, and her little hand +nestling in hers, she told her what Squire had heard. Mrs. Marsden was not +especially startled. She had suffered so much it seemed to her sometimes +that her feelings were numb.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you going in town to see him, Mamma?" the child asked.</p> + +<p>"Me! Oh, no; I couldn't. You don't know what you ask, darling." Tears +gathered in the beautiful sad eyes.</p> + +<p>"Then, may I go, Mamma? May I? Squire will take good care of me."</p> + +<p>The mother-arms tightened around the childish form. An unwonted jealousy +sprung up in the mother-heart. Hitherto she had had her all to herself.</p> + +<p>"Would you leave me, darling," she asked, "my one comfort? Suppose he +should take you away from me, and carry you off where I could seldom see +you, what would become of me?"</p> + +<p>The child looked up in the beautiful, agitated face with surprise.</p> + +<p>"He would never do that. Mamma, never. In the first place, nobody on +earth <i>could</i> take me away from my darling mamma. Then he wouldn't take me +away if he could. That would be too mean for any thing, and Squire says my +papa is a splendid gentleman."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Marsden made no reply to this. She sat gazing dreamily into the +glowing fire. Splendid? Yes, that was what she thought him before the hard +feeling came between them. She recalled his eyes, glowing—tender. Her +little daughter had them exactly. Those ardent glances had so bewitched +her she could have followed them to the ends of the earth.</p> + +<p>"Suppose he should die, poor papa, all by himself? Squire says he is very, +very sick."</p> + +<p>"God forbid!" cried Mrs. Marsden, "God forbid."</p> + +<p>"If papa has come all the way down to Kentucky," continued Roberta, "I +don't believe he came down here just to fight us, I don't indeed. It looks +to me more like he is hunting for somebody. And who should that somebody +be but my own darling mamma?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't probable he is hunting me, darling. It has been ten long years +since he went away. He knows where the old place is. He could have found +me easily enough."</p> + +<p>"Well, but may be he wasn't exactly sure about you wanting him to come. He +might have wanted ever so bad to come himself, and yet been afraid <i>you</i> +didn't want him. I wouldn't go where I wasn't sure I was wanted," +continued the child, a fine scorn curving her lips, "no, not for any +thing."</p> + +<p>How much she looked like her father when she said that.</p> + +<p>"May I go, Mamma?" she coaxed again. "Say yes, dear Mamma. You don't know +how I've longed to have a papa like other little girls."</p> + +<p>Then the sorely tried heart gave a great leap and got way beyond self.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you may go, darling," she cried; "and may the God of the pure in +heart watch over you and bring you back safely to your lonely mother."</p> + +<p>The child coddled down again to her.</p> + +<p>"What must I tell him for you, Mamma?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Marsden started. She had not expected that.</p> + +<p>"Send him kind message, Mamma, just like your own sweet self. You are so +good to everybody, and he is your little daughter's papa, and you love him +dearly, don't you, dear Mamma?"</p> + +<p>Then the woman-heart gave a great leap and reached out to that other heart +the child was pleading for, and it seemed as if they touched, although +miles separated them, and pride lay prostrate.</p> + +<p>"I have erred," she reasoned dumbly, "erred in the sight of God and man. I +have been hard, hard. What right have I to hold him to so strict an +account? By my own contrition and unutterable yearning to behold his +face, will I judge him, and naught else, the husband of my youth, once +the delight of my eyes."</p> + +<p>Then, having gone thus far, she could stop at nothing. Her eyes shone, +varying emotions chased over her beautiful face, her whole nature unbent, +tender, as when she stood in that room in the old days and heard the +benediction that pronounced them man and wife.</p> + +<p>"O, you dear child!" she cried, "surely God has put in your little hands +the gift of healing. Tell him, tell him, your Father, that for ten long +years, the string has been on the outside of the latch for him. Tell +him"—then, utterly unable to say more, she bowed her head and wept. +Roberta clung to her and caressed her. That phase of her mother's +character touched her unspeakably, young as she was. She never forgot it. +It was a revelation of how blessed a possession is the heart that is +incapable of cherishing resentment.</p> + +<p>"O, you darling mother!" she cried, "I don't believe God's angels are any +sweeter than you."</p> + +<p>When Roberta and old Squire reached the house where they had been told +Colonel Marsden was lying sick they saw an officer sitting in the front +room, writing busily by a table. He looked up as they entered, startled by +the vision of childish beauty before him. Roberta's scarlet hood, edged +with swansdown, was pushed back, and her hair lay in fluffy golden rings +on her white forehead. Her cloak, the color of her hood, was bordered with +the same snowy, feathery trimming. She carried in her hand a tiny, +swansdown muff. The rich blood of health mantled her cheek. Her eyes were +like stars. Where had he seen them before, those wondrously beautiful +eyes?</p> + +<p>In person and manner Roberta was like her mother, but her features were +her father's. A little aristocrat she was, from the poise of her golden +head to the tip of her prunella boots.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the officer, laying down his pen, "what can I do for you, +little lady?"</p> + +<p>The child turned to Squire, who came forward and stood in embarrassed +silence, uneasily shifting his position from one foot to the other. He had +been advised by saucy Polly "not ter skeer fo'ks ter def by de way he dun +his face," and he was a little out of his moorings. But finally he managed +to say:</p> + +<p>"It's Mars Robert Marsden, sah, dat me and Lil Missus wan'er see."</p> + +<p>"Well, who is Lil Missus? and what is she to Colonel Marsden?"</p> + +<p>His admiring gaze was directed again to the child.</p> + +<p>"Shee's his own flesh en blood, sah; nuffin' shorter; hees lil gal dat wuz +born'd arfter he wen' back ter N'ark."</p> + +<p>"Whew," whistled the officer; "I didn't know Colonel Marsden was a family +man. That accounts for many things, I have always thought peculiar in a +man of his attractive personality. Well, I am sure I envy him his newly +found daughter. Wait here a little, and I will see if the Colonel is +awake. He is convalescent now, and will doubtless be glad to see you +both."</p> + +<p>He returned in a moment and said, "Colonel Marsden is asleep, and I +thought best not to awaken him; but you shall see him," he said to +Roberta, "just as soon as he awakes."</p> + +<p>The child could not repress her eagerness.</p> + +<p>"I can't wait," she cried; "I want to see him so bad. Let me go in and +look at him while he is asleep. I won't make any noise. That's the way I +do mamma when she has headache."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the officer, smiling, "go right in."</p> + +<p>Squire started to follow.</p> + +<p>"No; you wait outside. Two at once might make him a little nervous. He has +been a very sick man."</p> + +<p>Roberta crept softly in on tiptoe. The room was darkened, and there was no +light save the reflection of the fire. Colonel Marsden was, in health, a +superbly handsome man. But, as he lay there in the dim light, emaciated +and pallid, there was something almost touching in the droop of his +shoulders and the look of helpless weakness about the mouth. It was not +long before he stirred uneasily and opened his eyes. His gaze fell +directly on the child sitting beside him and looking at him with her whole +heart in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I am Roberta Marsden. My papa's name is Robert, and my mamma called me +Roberta after him."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illustr-04.jpg" width="100%" +alt=""My Papa's name was Robert, and my Mamma named me Roberta, +after him."" +title=""My Papa's name was Robert, and my Mamma named me Roberta, +after him."" /> +</div> +<p class="center"><b>"My Papa's name was Robert, and my Mamma named me Roberta, after him."</b></p> +<table class="enl" border="0" cellpadding="2"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="images/illustr-04.jpg">View Illustration Enlarged</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<div><br /></div> +<div><br /></div> + +<p>He raised himself upon one elbow. A flush burned in his cheeks. It was +like a flame through alabaster.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand," he said; "what does it all mean?"</p> + +<p>Right there old Squire put in an appearance.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know me, Mars Robert? It's Squire dat useter 'long ter you."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I know you. How are you, Squire? But this child, who is she?"</p> + +<p>"Your own flesh an' blood, Mars Robert, born'd after you went away an' +left Miss July."</p> + +<p>Colonel Marsden sank back on the pillow with a groan and covered his eyes +with his hands.</p> + +<p>"O, Uncle Squire!" cried Roberta, "you have hurt his feelings. But she +isn't mad at you, Papa, not a bit. She told me to tell you, that for ten +long years the string has been on the outside of the latch for you. She +did indeed, Papa."</p> + +<p>"She is an angel," said Colonel Marsden. There was moisture in his fine +eyes.</p> + +<p>"That's what Mam' Sarah says. She says she is afraid every morning that +she will find mamma's wings sprouting."</p> + +<p>"But why was I not written to? Why was I not told I had a child?" Again a +groan escaped him. "My God!" he cried, "I forgot I had no right to +expect that. Like a self-willed child I wantonly threw away life's +choicest blessings, was unmindful of its most sacred obligations."</p> + +<p>His lips moved for an instant in silent prayer, and then he stretched out +his arms yearningly toward the child and asked almost humbly:</p> + +<p>"Will my little daughter give me a kiss?"</p> + +<p>The child crept to him and kissed him again and again.</p> + +<p>"I do not deserve this blessing from Heaven; I do not deserve this darling +little daughter."</p> + +<p>"And you have the darlingest and most beautiful wife in all the world!" +cried the child.</p> + +<p>"Lawd, honey!" said old Squire—he was in a broad grin—"he know'd her +long fo' you did."</p> + +<p>"Is she like this?" asked Colonel Marsden.</p> + +<p>He reached under his pillow and drew thence a small square case and handed +it to Roberta.</p> + +<p>Roberta fairly screamed: "It's my mamma; it's my own darling mamma! Now I +know how much you love her, or you wouldn't carry her picture about with +you."</p> + +<p>"It has never been away from me an instant, never one instant."</p> + +<p>"Why did you stay away from her so long if you loved her so dearly?" Her +great brown eyes were lifted in wonder to his face. "I can't stay away +from her a single day. Sometimes, even when I'm just out in the yard +playing, I have to come back and peep at mamma, to be sure she is there."</p> + +<p>A red flush mounted to Colonel Marsden's temples.</p> + +<p>"I must tell her first, little daughter; and if she forgives me, will not +you?"</p> + +<p>"O yes!" cried the child delightedly. "I won't wait for you to tell me. +I'll forgive you right now, before I know, and so will mamma. Mam' Sarah +says it makes you feel good all over to forgive people, 'sho' 'nuff.'" +Then, her tender heart touched by the appealing look in Colonel Marsden's +eyes, she added: "Mamma says we must have faith in people and not blame +'em, but believe that nearly everybody does the very best they can. And we +don't know, even when they do <i>wrong</i>, what makes 'em. You know, Papa," +continued the little theologian gravely, "nobody ever does <i>exactly</i> right +in this world."</p> + +<p>When old Squire and Roberta returned home they found Aunt Betsy very sick, +and Mrs. Marsden entirely occupied at her bed-side. It was a great +disappointment to the child, she was so eager to bring father and mother +together, but Mrs. Marsden was firm.</p> + +<p>"Your father does not need me, darling; but she does. And it is right +always to take up the duty that is nearest."</p> + +<p>It was an anxious night; but when morning came the sick woman was better, +and resting easily. Soon after breakfast, as Mrs. Marsden and Roberta were +standing by the window in the sitting-room, and looking out at the yard, +bathed in light and sparkling with dew, an ambulance appeared in the +avenue. It stopped in front of the porch; two officers descended from it +and assisted a third one down the steps, then they supported him to the +door.</p> + +<p>"It's papa," cried Roberta; "he is like me, he couldn't wait."</p> + +<p>She ran to meet him, beaming with joy, and led him to the sitting-room, +opened the door for him, and, with strange tact in a child so young, left +father and mother alone together. Robert Marsden was once more in the +quaint old room where he first courted his wife. He was ready to do the +courting all over again, glad of the opportunity and thankful for the +familiar associations that would naturally appeal to both. The room was +very little changed. The wear is less in the country, and then Dame +Fashion, our capricious queen, is not so absolute there. When he last saw +it, 'twas in the early morning. He remembered so well what took him there. +The night before they had one of their heated discussions about selling +the negroes, selling the old place, and moving north. When his wife turned +to leave the room there was something in her figure and bearing that +stirred him strangely. Before he retired, feeling that he had a strong +additional claim upon her, as one would reasonably have, upon whom rested +the responsibility of providing for a family, he wrote to her, and of +course in his masterful way urged her to accede to his request. "Sleep on +it," he wrote, "and let me know before I leave in the morning" (he was +going north on business). "Send your reply to the sitting-room, only a +line, telling me I am free to make my business arrangements in New York, +and return for you."</p> + +<p>As he recalled the way in which he expressed himself, a qualm of shame +crossed his heart. "A selfish brute!" he groaned in spirit: "never +occurring to <i>him</i> to yield, always trying to bend <i>her</i>." Well, there was +nothing for him that morning, and he had gone off with a hot heart, +feeling that any thing was better than the life of disinclination he was +forced to lead, if he remained. Yes, the room was as little changed as +she, there, coming toward him with outstretched hands.</p> + +<p>Although her eyes fell beneath his searching glances, and hot blushes +suffused her cheeks, she, the mother of his child and many years gone his +wife, he did not move one step to meet her advances. O, her pitiable +confusion!</p> + +<p>"Our child," he said, "the beautiful little daughter you have given me, +tells me you still care for me, though, God knows, I don't see how you +could, except that it is your nature and you can't help it. But what I +want to know is this, has the outrage I put upon you caused the fire, that +once burned in your heart for me, to smoulder to ashes, where only a +pleasant warmth remains, or is there still fire there that I can rekindle +to the old-time blaze, no matter what the effort required? What I want, +Julia, is my old place in your heart, if I can have it. I was never a man +that could do things in moderation; and, God help me, undeserving as I am, +that and that alone will satisfy me."</p> + +<p>"The fire still burns, my husband; O, how can you doubt it?"</p> + +<p>And then the hungry arms closed about her. After a little, when she had +fixed him cosily on the couch and was kneeling beside him, he said:</p> + +<p>"I am not by nature an humble man, nor one glib at confession; but there +is one thing I will say, my love, this choleric temperament of mine has +been to me severer flagellation than was ever administered by priestly +hands in expiation of heinous offenses. But I will <i>down</i> it yet, my love; +God helping me, I will down it yet."</p> + +<p>The door opened and a golden head was visible.</p> + +<p>"May I come in, dear Mamma?"</p> + +<p>Colonel Marsden stretched forth his disengaged hand and drew the child to +him.</p> + +<p>"She is like you, love," he said fondly.</p> + +<p>"Her eyes are yours, Robert. I remember, when she was a baby, how I used +to hang over her, longing for her to awaken, that I might see her eyes."</p> + +<p>Colonel Marsden's grasp tightened on his wife's slender white fingers.</p> + +<p>"Mam' Sarah was afraid I would make her nervous. She would steal her away, +carry her down to the loom-house, and rock her to sleep on her lap."</p> + +<p>"I remember it perfectly, Mamma," said Roberta, grave as an owl. "I wore +the same robe and cloak and cap that I dressed the gun in that time."</p> + +<p>Colonel Marsden laughed heartily; her diverting words, coming just at that +moment, were a relief to both. The negroes had talked to the child so much +about her birth and babyhood, she had come to believe that she remembered +them herself. Every date of late years went back to the time "fo' Lil +Missus wuz born'd," or the time "sence she was born'd," or the time "when +she was born'd." Old Squire especially humored the conceit:</p> + +<p>"Lemme see, Lil Missus; what room?"</p> + +<p>"The front room up stairs, Uncle Squire, with the sweet-brier roses +climbing in the window, and the beautiful red and black rag carpet Mam' +Sarah made."</p> + +<p>"Jes' so, Lil Missus; what bed?"</p> + +<p>"The great high bed, with the posts and tester and muslin ruffle, I +remember Aunt Betsy put a little Bible in my hand as soon as I was born, +and shut my fingers down tight on it, because she wanted me to love the +Bible first, before every thing."</p> + +<p>"Jes' so, Lil Missus; jes' so. I allers sed you wuzer sharp one. But who'd +s'poze, now, you cud rikerlec so fur back? He-he-he."</p> + +<p>Roberta cuddled down, like a kitten, on the rug before the blazing fire, +and looked delightedly at her mother and father.</p> + +<p>"Real papas are so much nicer than make-believe papas. I don't think I +can play that way again; it makes me hungry to see the difference. O, I +wish Uncle Charlie was here, too, and that other one."</p> + +<p>"I would like to see Uncle Charlie, too" (Colonel Marsden turned +laughingly to his wife), "but I don't wish he was here. I remember what a +pet he was of yours in the old days, love—the curly-haired scamp. He +could wheedle you and Aunt Betsy out of any thing he wanted. Such a tender +heart he had—mad as fire one minute, and tears in his eyes the next—but +withal so fearless and high-minded and lovable."</p> + +<p>"God bless and watch over him," Mrs. Marsden softly added, "and bring him +back safely to us all, my dear, my only brother."</p> + +<p>"Amen," responded Colonel Marsden.</p> + +<p>Good-bye to Roberta Marsden's child-life on the old farm! Good-bye to the +child mind that thought no evil; to the child-heart that reached out to +all other hearts, and drew them within a charmed circle of affection! +Good-bye to the kindly black faces that the child loved, and the simple, +homely lives she saw so much beauty in! Good-bye to the old house that she +loved, with Carlo, the watchdog, dozing on the porch in the sunshine; and +the peafowl close by, spreading his wondrous-hued tail and strutting; to +the old parlor, with its quaint papering and quaint furnishing suggesting +dead and gone generations!</p> + +<p>Good-bye to the old farm, with its peaceful, busy days; its glad days and +its sad days; its merry songsters and its whip-poor-wills; its old-time +industries and its hearty hospitalities! Good-bye!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" > +<img src="images/illustr-05.jpg" +alt="portrait" title="" /> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THAT OLD-TIME CHILD, ROBERTA***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 14897-h.txt or 14897-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/8/9/14897">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/8/9/14897</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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: That Old-Time Child, Roberta + +Author: Sophie Fox Sea + +Release Date: February 5, 2005 [eBook #14897] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THAT OLD-TIME CHILD, ROBERTA*** + + +E-text prepared by David Garcia, Melissa Er-Raqabi, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team from page images generously +made available by the Kentuckiana Digital Library (http://kdl.kyvl.org/) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 14897-h.htm or 14897-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/8/9/14897/14897-h/14897-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/8/9/14897/14897-h.zip) + + Images of the original pages are available through the Kentuckiana + Digital Library, Kentuckiana Digital Texts Collection. See + http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?;page=simpleext + + + + + + +THAT OLD-TIME CHILD, ROBERTA + +Her Home-Life on the Farm + +by + +SOPHIE FOX SEA + +Louisville +Printed by John P. Morton and Company + +1892 + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "Must I look so when I die? Boo-oo!" "I'll cross my heart, +Lil Missus, 'twuz dem drefful men dat sed 'Boo-oo!'"] + + + + +TO MY REVERED AND BELOVED FRIEND, +Mrs. Preston Pope, +I DEDICATE THIS CHILD'S STORY. IT WAS SHE WHOSE LOVE OF +CHILDREN FIRST SUGGESTED IT, AND WHOSE WORDS OF +KIND APPRECIATION AND ENCOURAGEMENT HAVE +BEEN TO ME "AS APPLES OF GOLD IN +PICTURES OF SILVER." + + + + + + +Roberta Marsden, or Lil Missus, as the negroes called her, for the opening +of my story dates back several years before the Civil War began, lived on +a country place in Kentucky. She was a beautiful child, and despite a few +foibles that all flesh is heir to, such a really lovable one that she was +fairly worshiped by mother, aunt and uncle, and every one of the negroes, +from old Caleb, the testy and ancient coachman, to the veriest pickaninny, +who thought it a great feat to catch hold with grimy fingers to the +fluttering strings of the little girl's white apron when she came among +them at Christmas and on other occasions to distribute sweets and more +substantial tokens. + +It was a great wonder that the child was not utterly spoiled. But it +seemed that her nature reflected the love lavished on her as a mirror the +face that looks into it. + +Aunt Betsy declared she did not have one selfish bone in her whole body. + +I think the reason of that was, there were so many about her looking to +her for comfort in some way, that when little more than a baby in years +she fell into the habit of thinking of and caring for others almost as a +woman would. + +Aunt Betsy was a rheumatic, and always ailing, and the child could not +remember the time when her beautiful, patient mamma was not very, very +sad. Although she smiled often on her little daughter, it seemed as if +there were tears right behind the smiles, just like rain-drops shining +through the rays of the sun. And when she crept close to her at night she +could feel the long lashes sweep her cheek, and they were so often wet. + +The negroes on the place, especially the older ones, would grumble out +their aches and pains to the child, as if they thought she had the gift of +healing. And indeed she had, in her way. + +For when old Squire split his foot open with an ax, they lived so far in +the country they couldn't get a physician every time it needed attention, +and her kind, brave mamma undertook to dress the wound herself every +morning. She would let the deft little fingers squeeze a sponge full of +tepid water over the cut as many times as it was necessary, then hold the +scissors and bandages, and help in other ways. And old Squire said the +tender, compassionate little face "ho'ped 'im as much as Miss July did." + +Those that need sympathy intuitively know where to get it. It's just like +the flowers reaching out for sun and dew. + +I expect the city children who read this story feel very sorry for +Roberta because she lived in the country. But they needn't be, for she was +never lonely and scarcely ever idle. The older negroes on the place said +she was like "ole missus" (that was her grandmother) in her ways. And +among other things they told about the old lady, to show how stirring she +was and what a manager, was her method of arousing the household to their +duties in the beginning of the week: "Wake up! wake up! I say. To-day's +Monday, to-morrow's Tuesday, next day's Wednesday, next day's Thursday, +then comes Friday, and Saturday will be here before you know it, and +nothing done." + +Roberta didn't belong to any "mite society" nor the "little busy bees," +where city children are trained to think of and help the poor, and she +didn't wear the badge of the "Society for Prevention of Cruelty to +Animals," as many children do nowadays. Indeed I don't expect she ever +heard there was such a society. But she was instrumental nevertheless in +doing a great deal of real practical good. O, how her eyes did flash when +she saw animals mistreated. She made beds for the cats and beds for the +dogs; and when any of the milkers struck the cows while they were milking +them, if she was near about, she would say, "Mamma says good milkers are +always gentle with the cows, for they won't give down their milk unless +you treat them kindly. And anybody can tell by the quantity of milk you +get whether you are good to them or not. If I was a cow I wouldn't give +down my milk if you struck me and hollered at me." + +So she made the cruel milkers ashamed of themselves often. And she +practically established a foundling asylum for little motherless lambs and +calves; raised them herself on the bottle just like they were babies. + +"O, you tootsey weetsy darlin'," I've heard her say to a bright-eyed, +gentle lamb, her especial delight. The little creature would run to her +and bleat by way of telling her it was hungry, and when she had fed it it +would rub its pretty head against her knee and look love at her, just as I +have seen babies look love at their mothers. + +And, my! how she did fuss over the little negro children when they were +sick! It just kept her busy bringing them gourds of fresh water from the +spring and watching the well ones to see that they didn't purloin the +dainties she brought the sick. She actually learned how to sew, making +clothes for the pickaninnies. + +And you just ought to have seen her when any of the fathers and mothers +whipped their children severely. She would fly down to the cabin, tear the +pickaninnies away and trot them up to the big house, and pet them until +they were willing to take another whipping to get the good things she gave +them. + +"She's jes de very spi't ob her par," old Squire would say on those +occasions; "Dat's jest de way hees eyes useter flash out at Mis Betsy +when she cum 'twix' him an Mis July." + +O, I wish I could make the little children who read this story see, as I +have seen it, the country place where Roberta Marsden was raised. + +On either side fields of golden-tasseled corn, rustling in the breeze and +shimmering in the sunlight, many of the stalks so entwined with +morning-glories, pink, white, blue, and variegated, one could almost +believe fairies had been there and arrayed the yellow silken-haired corn +babies for some festival, so crowned and garlanded they were. In front of +the house were wooded slopes, where the birds sang their love songs and +chattered noisily in bird language all the day long. Those woodlands might +have been called a primeval forest, for the trees were truly there in the +earliest memory of the oldest living resident of the county. + +It used to puzzle me to understand how the birds knew when it was time to +wake up and begin their matin songs, for it was so like night there. +Roberta, who was an early riser and withal a child of poetic imagination, +used to say "that the fairies woke them up." She declared she saw a little +glittering thing, with wings and wand of silver, alight on the tops of the +trees and peep through at the Darbys and Joans of the bird tribe. And she +was sure it must have told them it was time to wake up; for soon would +begin a low twitter that swelled louder and louder, as bird after bird +joined in until every family of birds was represented. From the back porch +of the house could be seen a range of blue misty hills, that Roberta +called brides. They were often enveloped in white filmy folds, like bridal +veils, and one might catch glimpses of the river from there also gliding +along between banks of green. + +A giant's great glittering eye she called that; the trees on the hills +above the giant's brows, and the ferns and grasses growing on either bank +were upper and lower lashes. With a little encouragement Roberta would +have been a genuine poet. + +But Aunt Betsy took such a literal view of things, she was constantly +saying to Mrs. Marsden: + +"That child's imagination will get away with her, Julia, if you don't +check it. It will, indeed." + +And she had a way of making the child repeat over and over again +descriptions of things that had struck her fancy, and cutting here and +there until the description didn't seem applicable at all to the places +she had seen. + +"I feel just like the old woman in Mother Goose, Auntie," Roberta would +say, her eyes full of vexed tears, "when she woke up on the king's highway +and found her petticoats were cut off." + +"But truth is truth, child," said Aunt Betsy. + +Aunt Betsy's intensely realistic temperament could not understand that +fine, exquisite perception God had given the little girl, which enabled +her to see beauty that others, differently organized, would never see, +nor, believe was there. + +The house, where four generations of Mrs. Marsden's family had lived, was +home-like, but quaint and unpretentious. It had a very solid look and was +in thorough repair, for the family were thrifty and well-to-do always. +Luxuriant vines of the Virginia creeper grew on the sides of the house and +around the pillars of the porches. Wandering tendrils hung from the eaves +and crept in the second-story windows. There was a wild-brier rose there +that had been planted by Mrs. Marsden's grandmother. It partook somewhat +of the nature of the old lady; nothing could keep it from doing its duty. +It filled the air with fragrance in its season, and was a mass of delicate +pink flower cups. + +Inside of the old house were many little nooks, and each nook haunted by +the spirit of some legendary story. As is the case in all houses where +successive generations of the same family have lived and died, ghostly +visitants came at certain times, so the negroes said, rang bells softly at +dead of night, tipped across the floor with but the echo of a step, +jostled medicine bottles together and did many curious things. Roberta, +brave as she was and sensible as she was, would actually cover up her head +with the bedclothes, and nearly smother for fear she would hear the bells +and ghostly steps. + +Mam' Sara was the only one of the negroes who didn't believe in ghosts. +"No, indeed, honey," she would say to Roberta, "daid fo'ks don' never cum +bak. If they gits ter Heaven, they don' wan'er, and if they gits ter de +udder place they can't. The devil won' never let 'em git away frum him, +kase he's wuk so hard ter git 'em." + +The part of the house of most interest to Roberta was the parlor, where +were stored the heir-looms of the family, a spinet with all the ivory worn +off the keys, two pier-glasses with brass claws for feet, and a clock so +tall and big she actually hid in it once when she was playing "hide and go +seek" with some little visitors, who said they had seen a clock "larger." + +Roberta was a very amiable child, but old Squire said she "wuz techus +erbout sum things." And the old clock must have been one of the things. + +The chairs were brought from Virginia on the backs of mules, and the +covers on them embroidered by the little girl's grandmother. The same busy +hands that superintended the manufacture of those piles of linen sheets +stored away in the presses above stairs, and the counterpanes woven with +the American eagle in the center, bunches of hollyhocks and sweet pea in +the corners, and trumpet vines running along the edges. + +The paper on the walls of the parlor was a curiosity. It was imported from +England many, many years before Roberta's mother was born, because her +grandfather saw a room somewhere, I think in Baltimore, that had similar +paper, and he took such a fancy to it he ordered some from the same place. +The paper was wrought in great panels, with life-size figures of orientals +in the center. They were terrible looking men, the children thought. They +had swarthy skins and beards down to their waists, and fierce eyes that +flashed out beneath their turbans with a fe-fo-fi-fum look. + +Those fierce eyes were the cause of no little alarm, I can assure you, +when darkness swooped down upon Roberta and Polly and Dilsy, playing +Lady-come-to-see in the old parlor in childlike unconsciousness of the +passage of time. Polly, the imp, would always insist upon singing "Lady +Jane Grey," as they tiptoed backward out of the room. They did not dare to +look away, for fear those terrible men would fly at them when they were +not looking and throttle them with their long, bony fingers, so they +joined hands and sung as they tiptoed backward: + + Lady Jane Grey, she went to church for to pray; + She went to the stile and there rested awhile; + She went to the door and there rested a little more; + She went up the aisle and there rested awhile; + She looked up; she looked down; + She saw a corpse lie on the ground; + She said to the sexton, must I look so + When I die? Boo, boo! + +Now when they came to the last part it was always Polly who stretched open +her eyes till they looked like an owl's great round eyes, and jumped at +Roberta and Dilsy and hollered "Boo, boo!" Although they knew it was +coming they were awfully scared, and would break loose and run, screaming +like mad things, into the sitting-room, really believing the orientals +were after them. They had made believe it so many times, and Polly had +said so many times, "I'll cross my heart, Lil Missus, 'twuz dem drefful +men dat sed 'boo-oo'; I seed thar lips muven; you don' ketch me in thar no +mo'," they had come to really believe it. They had heard the story of the +children who played wolf, and a wolf did sure enough come and devour them. +As many times as they had played Lady Jane Grey they were always worse +scared the last time than ever before. The sitting-room was a cozy place +when they got there, panting for breath after their fright in the parlor. + +In one of the deep window recesses Roberta had set up her entire doll +family to housekeeping. She was very fond of her dolls. The mother +instinct in her was developed very early. She had wax dolls and china +dolls and rag dolls. Mrs. Marsden painted features on the rag dolls, and +they looked very natural. There was Miss Prim and Miss Slim, Mrs. Jolly +and Mrs. Folly, Miss Snappy and Miss Happy, named from their different +expressions. Roberta had the quaintest way of talking to her dolls. She +had caught some of Aunt Betsy's old-time ideas: + +"Straighter, my dears, straighter. One's spine should never touch the back +of a chair," and, "Don't rest your elbows on the table while you are +eating; my great-grandmother used to keep cushions stuffed with pins to +slip under the children's elbows," etc. + +Her favorite dolls were the figures cut out of the fashion plates of +Godey's Lady's Book. She was an artist with her fingers, if there was a +pair of scissors in them. So she took sheets of different colored +tissue-paper, cut dresses, and fitted them nicely on her dolls. Each doll +had a variety. + +I believe she thought her dolls looked cosier at the dinner-table than +anywhere else, and she kept them sitting there a great deal. Sometimes +Polly, who seemed born to make trouble, would roll her eyes at the dolls +and say, "You iz de greedes' things. Whar iz you gwiner to put it?" + +Then, of course, Roberta would feel obliged to take some notice of their +sitting at the table so long: "Come, get down now, dears. Little ladies +should _not_ appear greedy." + +Roberta was very much like some mothers of real children, who will wink at +what their little ones do at one time, and, if a neighbor drops in at +another, who is not of the same way of thinking, scold the poor children +for doing those very things they had winked at before. But Roberta did not +have it in her heart to scold anybody much, not even that impish Polly, +who would go around after she had provoked her little mistress beyond +endurance, sniffling and singing in a dolorous tone, + + Whar she goes en how she fars, + Nobody knows en nobody kyars. + +and invariably wind up by getting the very playthings she wanted from +Roberta as a peace offering. + +I must not forget to tell you about Roberta's Sunday School for little +negro children. If the child didn't always keep perfect order and make the +headway she would have liked, it wasn't because she didn't try. Her whole +heart was in the work. She really was very intelligent, and Aunt Betsy +said, "If there was such a thing as anybody being born in this world a +Christian, she believed Roberta was." I think she must have had the germ +of object teaching--that is the fad now--in her nature, she could paint +such vivid mental pictures to convey an idea. Once she was telling Polly +about God's punishment of sinners, and Polly said, "Lawdy, Lil Missus, I +feel dem blazes creepen' all over me dis minit." She had a great deal to +contend with, almost as much as Mrs. Marsden had, in getting the older +negroes to come in to prayers. Nine times out of ten, when she rang the +bell for them Sunday morning, Squire would put his head in the door and +say: + +"Mis July, dat deviles hoss dun played me dat same trick ergin. He dun +lade down in de mud en roll ober en ober. 'T will take me clar up ter de +time to start ter chech ter git dat mud orf him, en hard wurk at dat. Dat +hoss knows ez well when Sad-day night comes ez you duz. Jes' de way he dun +las' week when I hetch him in de plow: lay down en groan lak he sick enuff +ter die, ter keep fum worken'; en half hour arfter I turn him luse +frolerken lak er colt--jes' kicken' up his heels, I kin tell you." + +"Why not drive some of the others, Uncle Squire, so you can come in to +prayers?" + +"I dun turn em all out, en dey's gorn, de Lord unly knows whar. If I'd +unly know'd it en time now. But I'll show 'im--I'll show 'im. I gwiner be +mity solid wid 'im, en mebbe heel larn arfter while dat he aint his own +master." + +At other times it was a mule. + +"Mis July, dat mule dun tore down dat rock fence ergin. I bounter fix it +or de stock will git out en go orf, you knows dat ez well az I duz. Dat +mule's yours, en you kin do what you please wid him, but ef he 'longter me +I'd sell him de fus chance I git. Dat mule nuff ter mek er man strike hees +gran-daddy." + +Now, it was a well-known fact that Mrs. Marsden had tried several times to +sell the mule, and old Squire had always declared "the mule was the most +valuable animal on the place, and it was just giving him away to sell him +at the price offered." + +Polly was Squire's granddaughter, and inherited his want of reverence for +sacred things. She was very, very trying, especially on one occasion I +will tell you about. + +Roberta gathered the children together, took her Catechism and primer, +and went down to the summer-house. She noticed that Polly's expression was +sulky, and that she was rolling her eyes at Dilsy. But Polly was always +tormenting Dilsy. Dilsy was a little hunchback negro, that everybody but +Polly felt sorry for and tried to turn the soft side of life to. + +Roberta was not much discouraged by Polly's actions, still she knew it was +a great deal pleasanter to teach her when she was in a good humor, and +concluded to resort to a strategy to mollify her. + +The child was a close observer of nature, and knew how indispensable to +germinate seed was a mellow, rightly prepared soil, and what service +sunshine and timely rainfalls were to growing crops. So she intuitively +drew an analogy in her childish way between the soil the plow-man turns +over and the human heart. + +Now, if there was one thing that Polly delighted in more than another it +was the game of "Chick-a-mie, chick-a-mie, craney-crow." + +So the children joined hands and moved around and around in a circle, +singing: + + "Chick-a-mie, chick-a-mie, craney-crow, + Went to the well to wash my toe, + When I got back my chickens was gone. + What o'clock is it, old Buzzard?" + +Then they would fly around looking for the chickens. At least all of them +but Polly would. Polly always took the part of old Buzzard, so she could +flop down in Dilsy's seat, although she knew she would have to get right +up. + +Somehow, that evening Roberta's strategy did not seem to have accomplished +its object, judging from Polly's expression. Still she hoped for the best. +Polly was the biggest, so she always begun with her. + +"Who made you, Polly?" + +No answer immediately; then, + +"Dunno fur sarten, spec' 't wuz Gord." + +A lump gathered in the child's throat. Her bump of reverence was so +largely developed it distressed her to see a want of it in others; she +said "it hurt her feelings." + +She passed it by, however, and ventured on another. + +"What else did God make?" + +"Dunno fur sarten, never seed 'im wuken'." + +"For shame, Polly! God made all things. Say 'God made all things.'" + +"No, never. Never made Dilsy thar. Dilsy nuffin' but er scrap he throw'd +erway when he got fru cutten' out de grow'd-up ones." + +"For shame, Polly! Don't you know everybody has to be little and grow up." + +"No, never! Adam and Eve wuz born'd grow'd up." + +"Well, that was because they were the first people on earth, and there was +nobody to be papa and mamma for 'em, and take care of 'em, when they were +little." + +"Dat's like Dilsy thar. Dilsy never had no daddy." + +"Well, Polly, you haven't answered my question yet. Say 'God made all +things.'" + +"No, never! God never made mammy's twins--no mo' dan he made Dilsy thar. +Dey iz prezak like dem monkeys I seed de time I went en town ter de +circus." + +Now Polly was not an impartial judge of the twins, for she had been +installed as their nurse, and she hated to nurse. + +"For shame, Polly! Those nice little babies. And then, besides, as God +made all things, he made monkeys too, of course." + +"No, never! You can't make me berleeve dat. Gord nerver wase hees valerbel +time maken' monkeys." + +That was the "last straw that broke the camel's back." After trying so +hard to be patient, and especially as she knew it was nothing but pure +contrariness in Polly, for only the Sunday before she had answered every +question correctly, and added some pious interpolations exceedingly +gratifying to her young teacher. + +So she got up, went to her refractory pupil, and lifted her forefinger by +way of giving emphasis to her words. + +But Polly, recognizing that her little mistress's temperature was rising, +felt a proportionate rise in her own, rolled her eyes till nothing but the +whites were visible, and stuck her lower lip out. + +It would be impossible to conceive of a creature uglier or more +aggravating looking than Polly, when she did that way. + +In a flash, down came Roberta's little soft pink palm on her cheek. + +Mrs. Marsden happened to be passing on her way to the quarters to visit a +sick servant, and witnessed the performance. She was amused, but worried +too, that Roberta had allowed herself to be so provoked, for it almost +made a farce of the whole thing; and she knew how much in earnest her +little daughter really was. The child's flushed cheeks and flashing eyes +brought back, O so vividly! another face and another pair of flashing orbs +so like hers. There were tears in Mrs. Marsden's eyes when she went in the +summer-house and took her seat on the bench that circled around it. + +"Did you strike Polly, daughter?" + +"Yes 'em, Mamma." + +"What did you strike her for, daughter?" + +"She wouldn't say her lesson, Mamma, and she knew it all the time. And she +rolled her eyes at me so, and stuck out her lip and looked so ugly, I just +couldn't help it, that's all." + +"I am sorry, daughter, that you gave way to your temper so. For remember, +you are only the sower that plants the seed, and God takes care of all the +rest. If you really try to teach Polly, and she won't be taught, you +mustn't make a personal thing of it, but just leave it with God. Then, +again, daughter, unless you practice self-control, teaching others is a +farce. I know Polly has been very trying, indeed. But I want you to show a +real forgiving spirit, as one should always show when one is working for +the Master. I want you to tell Polly you are sorry you struck her. For you +are sorry, I know--I see it in your face." + +A kind of staccato snuffle was heard in the direction of Polly. + +Roberta gave another look at the surly, unprepossessing countenance, then +said, in a low voice: + +"I will, Mamma, if you will let me hide my face in your lap while I am +saying it." + +"But why hide your face in my lap, daughter?" + +"Because--because--Mamma--I am afraid--if she looks at me as she did +before, that I will slap her again. I don't believe I could keep from it +this evening; I am all out of sorts." + +Afterwards that observation of Polly's, "Dilsy never had no daddy," caused +Roberta no little thought. Really, she was no better off than Dilsy, she +reasoned, for of course the child did not take in the full significance of +the imp's meaning. Nobody ever told her that her papa was dead. Indeed she +had been taught to pray for him every night. She felt sure he was living. +But, where? Why did he not come home and pet her, like other little girls' +papas she knew--pet her, and make her beautiful, sad mother smile +sometimes. For it seemed to the child that she grew sadder and sadder all +the time. There was nobody she could talk to about him, for her mamma's +eyes filled with tears at any chance allusion to him. Aunt Betsy nearly +snapped her head off when she asked her a question, and Uncle Squire, +chatty as he was upon every other subject, would squint his eyes in a +knowing way, puff out his cheeks, and answer, "Lay o'ers ter ketch +meddlers." Yes, there was one person she was sure she could coax into +telling her why her papa never came home to see them all, and that was +dear, good Mam' Sarah, the weaver. When Aunt Betsy scolded Mam' Sarah, she +would get down on the floor by Aunt Betsy and hug her tight around the +knees and say, "God love you, Mistiss," to show her she wasn't mad at her +for scolding her. That was "religion," mamma said. Aunt Betsy would cry, +and say: + +"Get up, Sarah, you make me ashamed of myself." + +Yes, she would go to Mam' Sarah at the loom-house. It was considered a +great treat by Roberta to go down to the loom-house. That was where the +wool, cotton, and flax was carded, spun, and wove, then manufactured into +winter and summer clothes for the negroes on the place. Yard upon yard of +beautiful red and black flannel, blue and brown linseys, and blue and +white striped cottonades, for the women, jeans for the men, and that +coarse fabric called tow-linen made from the refuse of flax. The +wonderful counterpanes, I have mentioned before, were manufactured there +and the linen for sheets and towels. Let me tell you something curious +while I am on the subject of the loom-house: Roberta's grandmother raised +silk-worms in the room adjoining. She fed them on mulberry leaves. Mam' +Sarah told Roberta they made a noise like wind while they were feeding. +Those worms spun fluffy balls of silk, called cocoons, that the old lady +reeled her silk thread from. She had all the silk thread and embroidery +floss she needed. + +There were no silk-worms raised in Roberta's time, and the room was given +up to other uses. + +There was kept the huge iron mortar where the grains of corn were crushed +to make the delicious hominy Kentuckians are so fond of. When rightly +prepared each grain stands out like the beautiful white-plumed corn +captains and colonels that dance up so gaily over beds of live coals. +There were made also the tallow dips, almost the only light used in the +old days on the farms in Kentucky. Pieces of cotton wick were cut the +required length and fastened at regular intervals to sticks of wood. One +of the rows of wicks was dipped in the melted tallow, taken out and +suspended over a vessel to drip. Then another was dipped, and another, +till the same process was gone through with all. That was repeated many +times before the wicks held enough tallow to be used for candles. An +improved method was to run the wicks through tin molds, the required size +and shape, and fasten them at one end with a knot; then pour in the melted +tallow, and set the molds aside for the tallow to harden. The candles were +put in brass, silver, and bronze candlesticks, accompanied by quaint +little waiters that held snuffers, used to nip off the charred wick, as +the tallow melted away from it. Very primitive that, compared with the +brilliant luminaries we have now. + +Well, there were hanks of different colored yarns and strings of red +peppers hanging from the ceiling of the loom-house. Great beams ran +through, called "warping bars," where the various warp threads were +measured and cut for the loom. There were scutchens for dressing flax, +carding combs, spinning wheels, and the great wooden loom with shafts +reaching almost to the ceiling. + +It was prime fun for Roberta to go down to the loom-house in the long +winter evenings, and, sitting down before the open fire-place, help Polly +and the others card the wool in long, smooth "curls," and pile them in +even layers, ready for the spinner. + +It required deft fingers, too, to gather together all the bits of wool +caught on the many sharp teeth of the carding comb, and that, by working +the two parts of the comb up and down, like a see-saw, then turning them +over and smoothing the rolls with the back. + +Those were busy days on the farms in old Kentucky, and happy days, +besides. The very best days for many, both white and black. That +afternoon I will tell you about especially, Mam' Sarah had a +bright-colored rag carpet in the loom. There she sat, her eyes fixed +intently on the pattern before her, shuttles carrying the black, red, and +orange filling flying in and out under her deft, busy fingers. Many a +strip of that gay filling had the little girl cut, sewed, and wrapped. +Mam' Sarah raised her eyes and smiled at the child, but didn't stop +working. + +"Don't it tire you Mam' Sarah?" Roberta once compassionately asked. + +"No, indeed, honey! Pear-lak I got sumfin' in my elbers en sumfin' in my +knees that keeps on goen, sumfin' like springs. I never gits tired. I +likes it." + +That was the secret, Mam' Sarah liked it. One can keep on forever when one +"likes it." "A merry heart goes all the day, a sad one tires in a mile." + +Roberta climbed upon a stool and sat there watching Mam' Sarah. She was a +nice person to watch. She had such kind eyes and such a pleasant mouth. +Roberta thought Mam' Sarah's mouth was just made to say "honey." Just like +a "prune" and "prism" mouth I've read of somewhere. Her skin was the color +of coffee, with a little cream in it. She always wore a head-handkerchief, +generally white, and one similar, folded over the bosom of her dress. Mam' +Sarah was very tall, and she had the best lap in the world to coddle down +in, Roberta thought. + +[Illustration: MAM' SARAH. "Sumfin' in my elbers en knees keeps on goen. +I never gits tired--I likes it."] + +Presently Mam' Sarah took her foot off the treadle, went to the +fire-place, lit her pipe, returned to her seat and puffed away in peaceful +silence. Roberta waited for her to get through, for she knew how dearly +she loved her pipe. After a little Mam' Sarah laid her pipe aside and +looked at the child. + +"What's de matter, honey?" she asked. "Your putty eyes full of tears. +Ennybody hurt your feelens?" + +The touch of sympathy coming at that tender moment, like a rose-leaf upon +a full vessel of water, caused the pent-up emotion to overflow. + +Roberta climbed in Mam' Sarah's lap, put her head down on her shoulder and +sobbed like her heart would burst. The old woman caressed the golden head, +and droned out a quaint lullaby, accompanying it with a kind of swaying +motion of her body as though soothing an infant to slumber: + + "Who's dis, who's dis, er coddlen down here? + I spec dis iz black mammy's gyurl; + Her skin so white iz mammy's delite. + And her long golden ha'r in kyurl. + Shoo-oo-oo, shoo-oo-oo-- + Rest, white chile, rest, on black mammy's breast. + + "Who's dis, who 's dis, er coddlen down here, + Wid her eyes full of greeven' tears? + Fru de chink of the do', let de lite po', + De shadders, my little gyurl skeers. + Shoo-oo-oo, shoo-oo-oo-- + Rest, white chile, rest, on black mammy's breast. + +"This iz the way I useter nuss you when you wuz er baby. You wuz warken' +about fo' you know'd who your mammy wuz. You see, your mar wuz so troubled +after your par went erway, she diden' take no entres' in enny thing much; +po' thing! po' thing! You'd axel cum enter this wurl' with out a rag ter +your back, if I haden' hunted up sum baby cloze your mar wo', en git em +ready." + +"What made my papa go away, Mam' Sarah?" asked the child, quickly. + +"I dunno fur sarten, honey, wot did make him go erway. You see, he wuzen' +lak our fo'ks. Cum frum the Norf. Pear-lak he cuden' take ter our ways, +sumhow. Mars Robert was razed in town, en he diden' lak it out here in the +country. I heered him say he wuz so tired of the country, hee'd be glad +never ter see another blade of grass grow. Mis Betsy tho't that was orful. +He wuz allers arfter your mar ter sell all of us, en sell the place en go +Norf with him ter live. Sumhow he diden' lak culured peepel ter wate on +him. Jes lak hees sister, who cum down here to visit Mis July, en bro't +her little gal with her. When enny of us wud go ni the child, shee'd draw +bak en say, 'och-y,' jes lak our black skins wuz nasty. She seed Judy with +her hans en the biskit do', and she wuden' eat the biskits. She said the +blak rubbed orf in 'em. Shee'd never heered of worfles 'til she cum out +here, en she wuden' tech 'em, cors she tho't we made the holes in em with +our fingers. Yer mar felt mity bad cors de chile wuden' eat nuffin', for +she wuz a po' little wite-face thing ennyhow. + +"Well, you wanter know erbout your par en your mar. It ain' nuffin' but +natchel, en I'll tell you the best I know how. One day I wuz cleneen' your +mar's room. Your par en your mar wuz en de setten' room, en I heered him +say: + +"'It's unly a queshun of er little time, en they'll all be free. Sell 'em +now wile you kin en put the money en your pocket. Ef you wate, they'll be +er dead loss ter you. You made one fulis mistake en not selling Squire; +don't make another.' + +"Lemme tell you wot he mean by that, honey. Squire's mammy, Free Fanny, +cum down here fum the city, en tried ter buy Squire fum yer mar. She +orfered her er big price fur Squire; she wuz rich, en mity keen ter git +her unly son. But Squire, he jes' went on so, got down on his knees ter +your mar en begged her not to sell him ter his mammy. Axel cried, en got +your mar ter cryen', en Mis Betsy en Mars Charley. You never seed enny +thin' lak et. En your mar tole Free Fanny she wud leave it with Squire, en +do jes' ez he sed. Yer par wuz jes' out-dun. Pear-lak he cuden' git over +your mar payen' mo' tenshun ter Squire then ter him. + +"I nerver know'd why Squire diden' want your mar ter sell him ter hees own +mammy. It looked unnatchel. Free Fanny, that's hees mammy, wuz mity rich, +en owned six colored peeple hersef. Shee's liven' yet en the city, en +when she dies Squire will get her money. + +"Well, when yer par sed that, your mar sed: + +"'I cuden' sell them ef I wanter; you know that, Robert, en I don' +wanter.' + +"Then your par, he spoke up sharp: + +"'It's nonsense, it's wuss than nonsense fur the liven' ter be so bound by +the dead. Sarcumstances are allers changen'. I say you've got no rite ter +think of everbody fo' you duz me. En its jes' cum ter this pass, you've +got ter chuse twixt them en me. You've got ter sell 'em en sell this place +en go with me, war I kin make the liven' I wuz eddiketed for, or I'll +brake luse mysef, en go. I can't stan' this life no longer.' + +"Then your mar sed: + +"'I wud be miserbel, Robert, ef I broke my father's will. It would kill +me, I do believe. Besides, I wuden' sell em, ef I diden' have er cent ter +buy er crust of braid with, even ef I wuzen' boun' by the will. En ez fur +sellen' this place, war I wuz born'd en raze, I never spec' ter. I wan'er +live en die rite here. Besides, there's Aunt Betsy. She wud never consent +ter go away fum here, en I cuden' leave her by hersef.' + +"Yer par git up then, en slam the do, 'en I never heerd no mo'. 'Twuz the +fus' out-en-out quarrel they ever had; but they had menny er one arfter +that. Pear-lak one led ter ernuther; en thar wuz nobody ter take hold en +help. Mis Betsy wud pitch in en say things that made 'em madder en +madder. Well, one mawnen' early, Squire went ter the stable ter feed, en +he sed Mars Robert dun took the horses en buggy, en er wagin fur hees +trunk, en gorn. Erbout dinner time the men cum bak with the buggy en +wagin, but no Mars Robert. Fum that day ter this he never cum bak." + +"Did he never write to mamma?" asked the child, her cheeks burning. + +"I berleeve he did, unct; sent her sum money or sumfin'. I heered Mis +Betsy say, 'Put it en bank fur your unborn'd chile,' en your mar sed, 'I +don' want it; I have enuff.' + +"Tempers iz er mity bad thing, honey," continued Mam' Sarah. "Now, I don' +mean that nasty sperit that makes er dog snap hees teef at you, cors your +mar en par never had no temper lak dat, chile. Mo' lak spile chillen, that +dun had ther way so long they cuden' give in, speshly your par. If your +par haden' gorn so fur erway, your mar en him wud made up when you cum. +Chillens teeches fo'ks er heep. But you see, honey, they never had no +chance ter make up. My ole man en me haz menny ups en downs. Sumhow, when +he gits sick, or I haz ter do sumfin' fur him, I furgit erbout bein' mad +at him. + +"Pear-lak, ter me, honey, en I've stidded on it er heep, the mo' you do +fur fo'ks the better you laks 'em. 'Twud bin the same with your mar en +your par, ef your par haden' gorn so fur away. When you marry, honey, you +marry one of the nabor boys." + +"I never mean to marry anybody," said Roberta, getting down from Mam' +Sarah's lap, and shaking out the creases in her muslin dress. She was a +dainty creature. "I am going to be an old maid and take care of mamma. May +be I can make her laugh and sing, after a while, like Aunt Betsy says she +used to. I'll never leave her, never, never. And then there's Aunt Betsy +to take care of, and you, and Aunt Judy and all." + +"Bless your sweet mouf. But we've gotter die fo' long, honey, en be put +erway in the cold groun' fur the wurms ter make meals of; sum of us +cheaten' the grave rite now. What iz you gwiner do then, honey?" + +"Then," said the child, and her face was sober indeed, "when that comes to +pass I shall be very, very sorry for a long time; but I will try to make +others happy, as mamma does, and may be that will comfort me a little. I +will get all the little girls together, like me, that haven't got any +papas and mammas, and all the little hunchback darkies like Dilsy, and all +the sorrowful people like mamma, and I'll love 'em and take care of 'em +until the angel comes for us, the angel that God sends." + +Thus the years rolled by until the war came. Peaceful, happy years they +were to Roberta on the old farm; golden years, in which the child's +character grew and strengthened, with no unkindly influence to warp it, +and her nature, it seemed, became more responsive all the time to the love +that was lavished upon her. + +Mam' Sarah told Roberta that she was going down to the tobacco fields, +early Sad-day morning, July 4, '63, and Roberta coaxed her mamma to let +she and Polly and Dilsy go with her. Although Federal cannon were planted +along the bluff overlooking Green River, their presence occasioned no +especial uneasiness, nor suspicion of impending warfare. Mrs. Marsden as +well as everybody else had grown accustomed to them. Almost during the +entire civil war that point was thought important on account of the +bridge; army stores were constantly shipped South that way. + +So the three children started off, merry as larks, with their trusty +companion. + +On either side of the turnpike road were green fields flushed with light. +The morning air stirred about them, redolent in sweet scents and attuned +with the many voices of summer. They heard the drowsy hum of bees; and +butterflies were there, thick as motes in the midday sun. Roberta's +observant, nature-loving eyes roved delightedly from one point to another +of the sunny landscape, while she repeated gaily to Mam' Sarah a little +couplet. The child's memory was stored with quaint rhymes: + + "A country lane between fields of clover + Rippling in sunshine over and over. + There the whirl of gay revelrie, + Butterflies waltzing mad with glee, + Honey-bees, powdered in dust of gold, + Chassezing around like gay knights of old, + Clad in silken doublet and hose; + Lookout, lookout, if you tread on their toes." + +Suddenly Polly broke away, pulled up an iron-weed growing on the +road-side, and fell to whipping a large purple thistle. Her thirst grew; +she left the thistle and fell to whipping the rank grass. Then was heard +an angry buzz, as the assaulted bees swarmed out of their defenses and +literally stormed her. + +They settled all over her. Head, face, bare feet and legs were attacked +all at once. They stung her terribly. The death of their comrade was +summarily avenged. She rent the air with her cries, and backed toward Mam' +Sarah, fighting them off as she went from different parts of her body. +Mam' Sarah covered up her retreat as well as she could, saying: + +"I natchel hate ter see fo'ks in trubble, but I ain' er bit sorry fur you. +I never seed ennybody fo' that wuz allers on the war-paf. Them bees haden' +dun nuffin' ter you. They is prezak lak humans. Ef you let 'em erlone you +won't hear from 'em; but fite 'em en they'll fite you back, erver time." + +At the same time that Mam' Sarah and Roberta were fussing over Polly, a +line of glittering points were coming up the rise near the bend of the +river. A column of Confederate soldiers appeared, marching shoulder to +shoulder, their arms shining in the morning sun. On they came, crossing +the fields with the springing step of hope and the steady step of high, +dauntless courage, making directly for the works the Federals had thrown +up and protected with the bodies of felled trees. + +Well-nigh impregnable, those works, from their vast advantage of +position, but in their line of march it was the policy of their leaders to +fight every thing of like nature that came in the way, to hide, if +possible, their real weakness in numbers. So they were told to take those +works, and take them they would. Knowing not the hesitancy of doubt, nor +the trammels of fear, what recked they of danger or of death, as they +sprung to their work? + +Alas! the awful death-trap that caught them, held them, while that deadly +fusilade opened upon them, reddened with their warm, young blood the soil +of their native State--mowed them down, ruthlessly, those hapless +Kentuckians. For ruthless it ever seems, when youth and hope and glorious +promise are offered in vain. At last they fell back, the living; what +flesh and blood could do otherwise? Fell back, but undismayed, and +fighting stubbornly inch by inch, as they bore off their wounded. O, those +darlings of old Kentucky! whose light went out on that July morning nearly +thirty years ago, those eager souls that God sealed with His eternal peace +ere aught had ruffled them, other than the zest of a hurdle-race or quail +hunt on their native bluegrass; many of them scarce passed the mile-stones +of boyhood, fresh from the classroom and tender home circle. Yet, they +plunged into the awful fire of that needless sacrifice, like veterans, to +whom the smoke and crash of charging squadrons is a pastime. + +No braver souls than they ever perished; none more loyal to the land that +gave them birth. Well may Kentucky embalm their worth in enduring tablets +of brass and marble. Let her see to it that she keeps their memory green +in her heart, for they loved her with a love passing the love of woman. + +When Mam' Sarah heard the firing she caught hold of Roberta's hand and +started to run, calling on the others to follow. She heard voices shouting +to her, in reality the voices of the negroes who had gone down to the +tobacco fields, calling to her to turn back. But, in her excitement she +thought they were war cries, and ran as fast as she could away from them. + +"Let's go to the play-house under the hill, Mam' Sarah," said quick-witted +Roberta. + +That play-house was a rocky recess, once the bed of some subterranean +stream, and protected from view by a sycamore's gnarled, knotted branches +extending down, and hung with matted wild grape tendrils. Mam' Sarah had +often gone down there and spread her linen on the grass to bleach, and she +generally took the children along for company. That's how they happened to +find out the rocky recess or cave, for it ran under the hill a +considerable distance. They hadn't been in there long before a shadow +darkened the entrance to the recess. A figure crept toward them with the +muzzle of a gun pointing straight at them. + +"O, don't shoot!" they cried in terror. + +"I won't," responded a boyish voice, and when their tears subsided they +saw it was a mere lad, wounded and bleeding. + +"Are you much hurt?" asked Roberta. + +"O, no; just a scratch." + +His chin fell on his chest. A dry sob burst from him. + +"I wish now I had been killed with the rest of 'em." + +"Have you got a mother?" Roberta asked. + +"Yes, I've got a mother; but what will she say when I tell her I left Bert +lying yonder in that death-trap? That's what's the matter. I wanted to +find Bert and take him away with me. I hunted for him all along among +those trees, and I got cut off from our boys. I think I must have lost my +head, for I forgot which way they went." + +"Who is Bert?" asked Roberta. + +"Bert was my brother, and the best boy that ever lived. Curse them!" he +cried, shaking his clenched fist; "curse the Yankees. What right have they +on Kentucky soil, anyhow?" + +"O, don't curse them," said the child; "my papa is a Yankee." + +"Is he?" He stopped short and looked at her with a kind of pity. "I am +sorry for you, that's all; sorry from my heart. I'd rather be a negro +trader." + +"I'm sorry too," said Roberta. There was a droop about the corners of her +mouth. "But don't you worry about your brother. Mam' Sarah and me will +find him and do all we can for him." + +"Will you?" said the hoy eagerly; "will you, really? O! that will be too +kind for any thing. I can never forget it, never." + +"But how am I to know him? Is he like you?" + +"Yes, he is like me; we were twins; but ten million times better looking. +He looked like an angel, as he is, as he is." + +Great throes convulsed his chest in his efforts to control himself. + +"I don't want to be a baby, but I was never away from Bert a day in my +life. Say, I can tell you how to know him. He has a picture of mother and +a Testament in his pocket, with his name written on the fly-leaf, 'Albert +Kurl.'" + +"Well, we will find him," said Roberta. + +There was a whispered consultation between the three, Mam' Sarah, Roberta +and the soldier. It seemed entirely satisfactory. And then Mam' Sarah told +Roberta they must hurry home on account of her mammy. "We kin cum back, +honey, en find him." + +And come back they did. They found him and washed the blood away from the +poor mangled features, straightening out the twisted limbs as well as they +could. Roberta took charge of the little pocket Bible with his name +written on the fly-leaf, and the picture of his mother, such a stately, +beautiful lady. Albert Kurl's body was not the only one they looked for. +Mam' Sarah's tears fell like rain, as she went from one to another +searching for curly-haired Mars Charley, the little boy she nursed. She +would have known him, she was sure, no matter how he looked. But, thank +God, he was not there. She remembered so well the morning he rode off on +his prancing horse, with the bands playing Dixie. + +"Charlie," called Aunt Betsy, "take this Bible with you." + +"O Auntie," laughed the merry young fellow, "I can't, but I'll promise to +say, 'Now I lay me down to sleep' every night." + +"O, what duz make fo'ks git so mad with ech other?" said Mam' Sarah. "It +will all cum rite, if they'll only hol' back en trust God." + +Just before tea, Roberta ran down to uncle Squire's cabin, on the hill +back of the spring-house. She told him she had a secret for his ears +alone, made him look under the bed, the cup-board, chairs, and every +place, to be sure there were no eaves-droppers. Then she sat down on a +stool and slided it along towards him. He edged his chair a little closer +towards her, so by the time she began her communication their heads almost +touched. It was comical to see the old man's various facial expressions +while the child talked. He would squint his eyes like he was trying to +sight something away ahead of him, puffed out his cheeks till they +resembled an inflated bellows. Finally, slapped his thigh vigorously, +blurting out, "You iz er sharp one, Lil Misus, you won' never 'go fru er +thicket en pick up er 'oop-pole', he-he-he." + +"Can you manage it for me, Uncle Squire?" asked the child anxiously. + +"Ob cose I kin, Lil Misus, ob cose I kin. Squire's your man." + +"O, you dear, good, Uncle Squire," cried the delighted child. "I feel like +hugging you." + +The old man twisted around in his seat and went through his facial +pantomimes again, pretty much on the principle of a dog wagging his tail +when he is fed. + +Roberta was feeding him with the daintiest of food, the nectar of the gods +to all of us, old and young, high and low. + +Although it was July, there was a bed of glowing embers on the stone +hearth, where Uncle Squire was cooking his supper. He liked the +independence of it. A pot of steaming coffee stood close beside the fire, +slices of middling meat were broiling on the coals, and an ash cake slowly +browning. He nodded his head toward them, on hospitable thoughts intent. + +"Iz you hongry, Lil Missus?" + +"Well, I believe I am, rather, Uncle Squire, and your supper looks nice, +but I think I will save myself for Aunt Judy's waffles. I took her a +basketful of fresh eggs, and she promised me some waffles and scrambled +eggs. You know I adore waffles and scrambled eggs, Uncle Squire." + +Suddenly the child burst into a ringing peal of laughter. Something very +funny was evidently suggested by the eggs. + +"O, Uncle Squire," she cried, "did I tell you how I got the best of Jemimy +at last?" + +"Iz dat de hen dat's been so bobstreperous, you bin tellen' me erbout, Lil +Missus?" + +"The very same, Uncle Squire. O 'twas nice, the way I managed her +yesterday. I let all of the good hens out, and I said, 'Jemimy, you've got +to stay in. You haven't been doing your duty lately at all. I am just +ashamed of you. You will ruin your reputation. People will stop coming +here to get your eggs to set with." Aunt Betsy says, "Jemimy, A bird that +can sing, and wont sing, ought to be made to sing, and I am going to do my +duty by you. I am just going to keep you in here until you get in the +habit, the habit, you hear, Jemimy, of laying one egg a day.' You know, +Uncle Squire, habit is every thing. Jemimy cackled, just like she was +going right at it. But I said, 'No, Jemimy, you've fooled me before.' Then +she ruffled up her feathers and flew around, determined to get out. I was +firm with her, Uncle Squire, and wouldn't let her out. This evening I went +there and found two beautiful eggs, fresh laid, in her nest." + +"You iz er sharp one, Lil Missus; I allers sed it. Who'd s'poze now you +cud make dat hen underston' lak er human creeter, dat she gotter turn over +er new leaf en do better. Pear-lak, sum chillen's born'd en de wurl' +now-er-days wid ez much sense ez grow'd-up fo'ks." + +As they sat there a rumble of thunder was heard. Roberta listened +intently: "'Tater wagens, Uncle Squire, _big_ 'tater wagens, rumbling over +the bridge." + +"Yes, Lil Missus, it's comen'. En de stormier 'tis, en de darker 'tis, de +better fur him en me." + +That night about nine o'clock Mrs. Marsden heard a low but distinct rap on +the shutters of the sitting-room window opening on the porch. She happened +to be there alone. It startled her for an instant, but she soon recovered +composure and asked: + +"Who is it?" + +"A friend," was the reply. + +"What do you want" + +"Shelter for a few hours, a bite to eat, and--I will tell you more anon." + +"These are dreadful times, and I am not in the habit of taking strangers +in at this hour of the night." + +"All right," said he on the outside; then added with the glibness of a +Fourth of July stump speaker, "that is, if you can reconcile it with your +conscience to turn the cold shoulder on a fellow being in the desperate +strait I am in." + +"Where did you come from?" was next asked. + +"From those who are wandering up and down the earth, seeking how they may +devour me." + +"Where are you going to?" + +"Destination unknown. Depends somewhat on yourself." + +Without another word, Mrs. Marsden turned the lamp down low, and hurried +towards the front hall door. + +"Take a light with you, Julia," called Aunt Betsy, from the bed-room +adjoining. + +"Not for the world, Auntie." + +Her acute ear had caught the tramp of horses' hoofs coming through the +avenue. When she opened the door, a tall man dressed in the Federal +uniform stood outside, his hair disheveled by wind, and face shining with +dashes of rain. She locked and bolted the door after him, and led the way +to the dining-room, where Roberta sat playing "checkers" with a +boyish-looking soldier, also dressed in Federal uniform. + +"Give this gentleman some cake and wine, dear," she said to Roberta, "and +entertain him until I return; and you," to the other soldier, "go outside +for a little; Squire will show you where to go." + +Her surmises were correct. Heavy spurred boot-heels crossed the porch +floor; there was a thundering knock with the butt-end of a riding-whip on +the outside of the door. + +Inwardly quaking, and strengthening herself with silent prayer, she +opened the door. A squad of Federal soldiers stood before her. One of them +lifted his hat, and said courteously: + +"We have come with authority from headquarters to search your house, +Madam; we understand you are harboring rebels." + +"You are at liberty to search my house," she answered in a clear, +penetrating voice. "You will find some women and children, and one of your +cloth, here." + +They searched sitting-room, bed-room, and passed into the dining-room; saw +a brother Federal there partaking of light refreshments; were pleasantly +accosted by him, and told he belonged to Company G, of Colonel M.'s +Michigan volunteers; had been sick and was out on furlough at the house of +a friend. One of them, a social kind of fellow, lingered on the threshold, +amused at the badinage passing between the soldier and the beautiful +child. + +"Oh, no, you are not a rebel," the soldier was saying, "you can't make me +believe that; you've got too honest a face to be a rebel. Now, just +confess you are glad of the drubbing our boys gave 'em this morning." + +"No, I'm not glad;" said Roberta, her eyes were filling with tears and her +lips quivering, "I'm just as sorry as I can be." + +"Well, then, I'll tell you what I expect the trouble is. You've got a +sweetheart among them; and if I was you, I'd trade him off for a Union +sweetheart right away." + +"I don't want any sweetheart at all; but if I wanted one I wouldn't have a +Yankee." Her eyes flashed and her cheeks crimsoned. + +"Why not?" continued her tormentor. "They are lots nicer than the rebels; +have more to eat, and wear better clothes. Besides, didn't the rebels +steal your mamma's best horses, the last time they passed this way, and +leave her nothing but two starved, broken-down nags in their place? Didn't +they, now?" + +"Yes," the child was reluctantly forced to admit. Suddenly her face +brightened; she almost trembled with eagerness. "Who stole my mamma's +negroes, I wonder; every one of them but Mam' Sarah, and Aunt Judy, and +Uncle Squire, and Polly and Dilsy--every one; who did that?" + +That sally provoked such a peal of laughter and put everybody in such a +good humor, possibly the search was not prosecuted as vigorously as it +might have been otherwise. + +The next morning about sunrise two Federal soldiers sat on their horses +before Mrs. Marsden's front door. The family were assembled on the porch. +They were always early risers, and their being up a little earlier than +usual would have caused no comment. Possibly the leave-taking might have +seemed a little queer to prying eyes. + +"Take care of my gun," the youngest-looking of the soldiers whispered to +Roberta, "and if I live, I'll come back before long and get it." + +"Will you?" said the child, delightedly. "Then I'll take care of it, +sure." An instant afterwards added, with the serio-comic imitation of the +fire of older tongues, so common at that time, "They will have to walk +over my dead body before they take it from me." + +As the soldiers rode through the avenue the murkiness overhead cleared, +and shafts of clear gold fell earthward; each blade of grass sparkled like +a diamond, and tiny globules hung from the leaves of the trees, reflecting +countless dazzling prisms of light. A lark started up from the high grass +of the meadow, and soared aloft, dropping soft trills and quavers and +clear, fresh warbles from his happy little throat. Just outside of the +avenue gate they met a line of milch-cows en route for the "cuppen." They +moved swiftly as though there was purpose in their movements, and glanced +about with eager eyes. Slender streams of milk flowed from their swollen +teats, and marked their passage along the road-side. In barnyards near +calves were waiting, frantic to get at those same swollen teats. The black +boy who had them in charge opened the avenue gate for them, then stood and +looked after the soldiers, the very embodiment of shrewd, impish humor. +Hands burrowing in his pockets; his body, from the waist up, thrown back; +his mouth stretched in a broad grin, and indeed every feature replete +with fun. When they passed out of ear-shot, he put his thumb on the end of +his nose, and bawled out: "It's all in my eye, Betty Martin," and wound up +by turning somersaults on the grass by the roadside. + +Later on the sun glared like a great ball of brass. Anon a light breeze +sprung up with a breath of moisture in it. + +"That's good," said the oldest soldier, taking off his cap and baring his +forehead to it; "that's good. 'Twill make more bearable the rays of yonder +heater." + +Their bodies were refreshed and spirits hopeful in proportion. They did +not converse much; seemed to be taken up with noting the country, as +though comparing it with some memoranda retained in recollection only. +They were evidently strangers to that locality, for they relied for +direction upon milestones and the sign-posts that appeared at intersecting +roads. At last, when they had passed over about ten miles, they came to an +Irishman beating rock by the roadside. + +The oldest of the travelers was accustomed to read the countenance, for he +was bred a lawyer, and gave up a large practice in criminal courts to join +the army. He observed a shrewdness in the Irishman's countenance that he +thought might possibly be of service; but it was a delicate matter to get +at in those times, when one might well be afraid often of the members of +one's own household. + +"Good morning," he finally said. + +"Good morning to ye," the Irishman responded without raising his eyes from +his rock pile. + +"Have you heard the news?" was next asked. + +"Faith, an' so much of it flies here and there, if a mon lets all of it +roost, 'twill stale his pace of mind like the thaving crows stale his +corn." + +"What I mean is, the fight yesterday at Green River bridge. Ar'n't you +glad of the drubbing our boys gave the rebels? There's many a mother's son +of them lying in those green bottom lands there, that the morning's +reveille will never awaken more." + +The face of the youngest soldier was turned away. His eyelashes were wet, +and his teeth gnawed his under lip. Once he drew his coat sleeve across +his eyes, and once he looked as if the conversation had become unbearable, +almost. + +"Weel, an' when it comes to that, I am the last man to be glad at the +death of a sinner, an' I take it, many a sinner handed in his checks there +yistiddy." + +After a few general remarks the soldiers rode on. When they had gone about +three hundred yards they stopped, held a brief consultation, and finally +returned. The oldest man, who seemed to be the speaker, said: + +"We have been struck with your answers to our questions, and have come +back to confide to you our situation and ask your aid. We are not," he +continued, "what we seem to be." + +"If ye are not what ye seem to be, what are ye?" + +"We are escaped rebel prisoners trying to make our way south. At least I +am, and that young fellow there was in this fight yesterday and got cut +off from his command. We believe you are a friend to our cause, and we +must have your advice and aid, for we are here without knowledge of people +or country." + +"Well," said the Irishman, "if ye are decaving me the sin is all yer own. +If ye be honest an' true men, follow my advice and all will be well. I +live just two miles up the road, the first white frame house on the left +hand side of the road, with a barn in front of it. The country is full of +spies, an' you must be careful. Just ye ride up where I live, get off your +horses and go in. Make my wife take the horses to the stable and feed 'em. +Then order your dinner, an' when you've eaten it, drive the wimmen and +children out of the house and raise the divil ginerilly." + +The soldiers went on, and the Irishman resumed his work. In less than an +hour a neighbor rode up in hot haste, told him the Yankees had taken +possession of his house and driven wife and children into the road. + +"Ye say they have?" responded he, laying down his hammer and serenely +lighting his pipe. + +"Yes, yes! come on and do something for your family." + +"Holy saints and angels, defend us! What kin I do? It's not me all by +meself, neighbor, that kin whip out the whole Yankee army. Gineril Lee +an' Stonewall Jackson have been thrying it for some time, an' faith, if +they can't, how kin I?" + +The dismayed messenger returned to report to the excited wife and children +that the husband and father would do nothing for them. Again and again was +a messenger sent, but to no purpose. The Irishman sat and plied his hammer +to his rocks in serene quiet. + +About four in the afternoon a rockaway drove up, stopped a few yards away, +and a lady got out, accompanied by a little girl, and approached the man +at the rock-pile. They were Mrs. Marsden and Roberta. + +"May I ask," said the lady hesitatingly, "if two soldiers dressed in +Federal uniform have passed here this morning; and how long since? The +reason I ask is this, a flying rumor has reached me that two soldiers +wearing the Federal uniform were arrested not far from here and carried to +headquarters as Confederate spies." + +"Faith, an' the shoe is on the other foot intirely, madam. It's meself +that's been arristed, or it amounts to about the same thing. Them same +soldiers you ax about have taken possession of my house, driv my wife an' +childers out of doors, and raised the divil ginerilly." + +"O! I am so sorry to hear it," answered Mrs. Marsden. Then noticing a sly +twinkle in the man's eyes, utterly out of keeping with his words, the +quick-witted woman instantly caught on to the "cue." + +"O! Mr. McGarvy!" she cried, "for you are Mr. McGarvy, ar'n't you? I +might have known you would have helped them to carry out the blind, if +they came anywhere near you; but I thought they were going a different +way." + +She added, admiration kindling her features as she looked at him, "I don't +believe there is another man in Kentucky, sharp enough to conceive of such +a blind, or self-sacrificing enough to carry it out, and may God bless +you." + +She turned away, her beautiful eyes filled with tears. + +At sundown Mr. McGarvy hitched his horse to his cart, lit his pipe, and +jolted slowly homeward. His wife and children were still in the road, and +the soldiers still had possession of the house. + +"I would not have believed it, Jim McGarvy," cried his wife, her bosom +panting with rage, "not if the Holy Mither of God had tould me." + +"Have they hurt you, Rosy, darlint?" + +"Not them, Jim McGarvy. They have been civil spoke enough. It's you that's +hurt me--you that have gone back on the wife of your bosom an' your own +flesh an' blood." + +"Whisht, Rosy, darlint, whisht." He got as close to her as circumstances +would allow. "Them soldiers are our own boys, who are trying to make their +way south, I've jis' had them do all that for a blind, jis' for a blind, +the poor fellers. Sure, an' you know, Rosy, darlint, that Jim McGarvy is +a spotted man, an' the very first one in these parts that the inimy would +go for." + +Wondrous the transformation. + +"Is that thrue?" she cried, with beaming face, forgetting already the +day's worry, "are they raly our own boys? Sure, an' it's a dolt I am, not +to know what the tallest one meant when he whispered to me: + +"When the South is free, I am for Jim McGarvy for any office he wants." + +"Whisht, Rosy, darlint, birds of the air carry tidings; but come along now +and get us a hot supper, and a good one too to stay our stomachs, for I've +got to carry the boys further on their way to-night, the holy Mither of +God bless 'em!" + +Now I am going to tell you how Roberta kept her promise about taking care +of the soldier boy's gun. Not many weeks after that memorable Fourth, +Squire came home in great excitement, saying the soldiers were searching +every house for contraband articles, and soon would be at theirs. + +"I should be very sorry," said Mrs. Marsden, "to have to give up the suit +of gray jeans I've made for Charlie and the dear boy's boots." + +"You won't have to give them up, mamma," responded Roberta, who had lain +awake night after night, planning what she should do in the event the +soldiers came after them. Now what do you suppose she did? Pushed boots +and clothes to the very bottom of the flour-barrel under the flour. Not +even our own Yankee Bligh could have detected their whereabouts. Then she +dressed the gun up in baby clothes, with long white robe and cloak and +pretty baby cap; tied a veil over the cap. When she was through, it really +looked very much like a baby. She gave the gun to Polly, and told her to +walk up and down the porch with it and sing a lullaby. Polly didn't like +counterfeit babies any more than she liked real babies. + +"Lawdy! Lawdy! Lawdy!" said Polly, "iz you rite sho', Lil Missus, thar +ain' nuffin' in it that's gwiner blow my head orf?" + +"Right sure, Polly. Uncle Squire cleaned it out yesterday." + +"O, Lawdy, Lawdy, Lawdy! I dunno howter ketch on ter de creeter, nohow. +I'd redder nuss real live babies, I wud." + +"Be a good girl, Polly. Take hold this way. Now sing: + + "Dear little baby, shut your eyes, + Stars are shining in the skies; + Soon an angel will at you peep, + Whisper to you while you sleep. + Dear little baby, what do you hear? + Mamma's voice, sweet and clear. + Why, mamma's the angel, baby dear." + +"I dunno it; I never heered it." + +"Be a good girl, Polly, and I will give you my new China tea-set." + +"I don' like cheeny dishes, caze I have ter wash 'em when dey gets dirty. +I'd redder eat orf chips en frow 'em erway." + +"Well, then, I'll give you the pretty colored paper dolls I cut out of +Godey's Lady's Book; any thing, just so you make believe it's a real live +baby. Sing this, then: + + "Folks, won't you go? Folks, won't you go? + Folks, won't you go to see the monkey show?" + +"You know it, Polly; I heard you singing it yesterday." + +(The soldiers were coming up the avenue.) + + "The royal tiger will be there, + The ring-tailed monkey + And the polar bear; + The royal tiger will be there," etc. + +"I'll cross my heart, I dunno it. I natchelly 'spize babies, ennyhow. If I +wuz er blue-gum nigger, I'd bite 'em," said Polly, showing her teeth +viciously. + +"Well, then," said Roberta in desperation, "I'll give you my red sash that +you think so pretty; I will indeed." + +That did the work; Polly's love of finery was intense. She began to sing +in a surly tone, that straightened out as visions suggested by the song +flitted before her. The circus was her delight. + +If the soldiers, in passing, noticed the incongruous lullaby, they made +no comment. Possibly, they were not family men. + +They went through the house; pushed their bayonets in the mattresses, +lifted them up and looked underneath; searched every nook and corner below +stairs, then tramped up. Roberta called to Polly: + +"Is the baby asleep, Polly?" + +"No; yes. Lawdy, Lawdy! I'ze gwiner drap it, sho'; it's sliden'." + +Roberta looked through the window at the counterfeit baby; she flew out on +the porch, took it away from the awkward nurse, saying: + +"You will never make a nurse, Polly; there's no use trying to teach you;" +carried it in and laid it on the dismantled bed, just in time to prevent +the drapery from slipping off and exposing the shining metal. She darkened +the room, and sat there patting it and singing to it till the search was +over and the soldiers gone. Then the child put her head in her mamma's +lap, and sobbed from pure nervousness. But she had kept her promise, the +loyal little soul. In years to come, she made and kept another promise, +that the first one led to, as links in a chain. + +In the muddy back yard Polly was strutting, proud as a peacock, in her +scarlet sash. The ends swept the ground, and she glanced back over her +shoulder at them every step. Roberta burst out laughing, Polly looked so +ridiculous. + +"O, Mamma!" she said, "do call Polly in and sing to her about-- + + "The little girl that was so vain, + Strutting up a dirty lane, + With mamma's best dress for a train, + O, fie, fie, fie! O, fie, fie, fie! + She'd better sweep cob-webs from the sky; + She'd better bake, she'd better stew, + She'd better knit, she'd better sew; + O, fie, fie, fie! O, fie, fie, fie! + The little girl put her finger in her eye, + Looked down at her shoe, and said 'boo-oo.'" + +Now I am going to tell you how the soldier boy kept his promise. + +Old Squire had loaded a wagon with pumpkins, golden-brown russet apples, +and splendid potatoes to take into town, a few miles off. He promised to +give the children a lift as far as the forks of the road. Roberta coaxed +Aunt Judy to fix her a nice lunch. They wanted to gather wild grapes and +nuts in the woods and have a tea-party besides. Aunt Judy fried her some +spiced apple turnovers, made beaten biscuits, crisp and brown, split them +while they were hot, buttered them, and put thin slices of pink ham +between. Then she got at least one half of an iced white mountain cake, +left from Sunday, and packed that in with the other things. Little did +Roberta suspect who would eat that lunch, and think it the best lunch ever +eaten. + +It was good; Aunt Judy knew all about fixing lunches. She was a great +"Camp-meeting" woman. + +Roberta took up the basket and flew out to the wood-pile, where Uncle +Squire was cutting wood. He saw her coming, and called out: + +"Look out, honey! chips iz mity keerless things, you never know when they +gwiner fly at you, like some fo'ks I knows." + +"Old man," called Judy from the kitchen, "that ash-hopper is plum dry. +Don' forgit ter put some water in it fo' you goze." + +"Dat ash-hopper allers iz dry. It's like me since Mars Charlie's bin gorn. +Judy," he called out again, with a mighty bravado of voice, "I am got no +time ter be fillin' dat ash-hopper fo' I goze, you knows dat." + +"I can wait, Uncle Squire," said the child, always willing to make peace +at any cost to her own convenience. + +"'Twon' take no mo' dan er minit to fill it up, honey, I got de water +ready. I jes' wanter show her I wuzen' gwiner be bullied inter it." + +The children thought it was prime fun to be jostled along in the wagon +with the pumpkins and potatoes. Inconveniences in youth are diversions +only. One seeks them. + +If the children who read this story have never seen our glorious Kentucky +woods in October, they can have but faint idea of its beauty. It is just +like some vast cathedral--aisle upon aisle opening before one, columned +and gorgeous beyond description, in infinite variety of tint, shaded from +blood-red to pink, from orange to tawny yellow, from golden russet-brown +to more delicate wood-colors. + +Under foot is a tesselated floor, mosaiced with the same gorgeous colors. +From every quarter is wafted herby odors. Here and there one comes to +trees whose leaves are all a vivid glowing crimson. You can't imagine any +thing more beautiful when the light shines through them. Through openings +in the columned aisles one sees fields steeped in golden glamour, where +float feathery tufts of down. There also linger a few late golden-rods, +and butterflies with limbs chilled by the crisp air. + +Later on those same meadows are enveloped morn and eve in veils of +floating white mist; the golden-rod is gone; the butterflies lie in their +shroud; but grape-vines are loaded with rich purple clusters, ripened by +the frost. The beautiful persimmon trees glow with luscious fruit. +Roberta's mother used to gather the persimmon apples and pack them away in +glass jars, in alternate layers of fruit and sugar. They are as nice as +dates. Wherever you turn the ground is covered with nuts--hickories, +walnuts, and chestnuts. You can hear them "drop" every few seconds. +Sometimes I think our Kentucky woods were made for children. + +That afternoon I am going to tell you about, when the forks of the road +were reached, Squire lifted the children down, cautioning them against +lingering too late, mounted his wagon and was about starting when there +appeared a little ahead two horsemen riding abreast and coming directly +toward the children. They were dressed in gray, and sat their horses with +the air of "Charlie has come to his own again," softly singing snatches of +"My Old Kentucky Home." Roberta could hardly believe her eyes. + +"O, Uncle Squire, it's the rebels, it's the rebels!" + +"Yes, it's 'pintly dem," he answered, a broad grin overspreading his face. + +When they came up with the children they drew rein, and one of them +reached out his hand to Roberta. It was the soldier boy. + +"Have you come for your gun?" asked she. + +[Illustration: "Have you come for your gun?" the child asked. "Yes, and to +see you," was the reply.] + +"Yes, and to see you." + +The child had no coquetry in her nature, else would have noticed the +earnest look in the boy's brown eyes that accompanied his significantly +spoken words. As it was, she only smiled and said: + +"Well, I kept it for you; and are you as hungry as you were that night?" + +"Well, yes, I reckon so. Soldiers generally are; at least our boys are. +But why do you ask? I wanted you to forget how many beat biscuits I ate." + +"Because I've got a nice lunch here that I will give you. Aunt Judy fixed +it up for me to have a tea party in the woods." + +"Who were you going to have at your tea party--Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox?" + +"No, indeed," said the child, a fine scorn kindling her features; "no, +indeed. We were going to have General Morgan and Uncle Charlie and you. Of +course it was make-believe. That's the way we play, but we like it ever so +much." + +"Well, if I take your chicken fixings you can't have any tea party." + +"O yes, I can. I can just make-believe some hungry soldier has come along +and eaten it all up." + +"There is no make-believe about that," laughed the soldier; "that's real." + +There was a smothered sound in the direction of Polly. The boy turned +toward her, evidently seeing her for the first time. + +"What's the matter with you, tar baby?" + +"I wuz gwiner tell you erbout de time de Union sojer stole Miss Betsy's +bee-hives, en he wuz dat hongry he pitch en ter de honey fo' de bees got +out, en one git en hees frote en stung him; Lawdy, how he hollered! But I +won't, cors you called me tar baby." + +"I beg your pardon, I meant no offense. I just have an unfortunate habit +of calling things by their names. I am like the hungry old lady who sung: + + "'Alack-alack, alack-alack! + A dinner's a dinner, a snack's a snack. + I can call them none other, alack-alack!' + +"But I think I have gotten the gist of your story from the preamble; so +am not inconsolable. Anyhow," he turned to Roberta, "if you wait here a +little you can have a sure-enough General Morgan and Uncle Charlie at your +tea party. They are just behind. Only, if they are as hungry as I am, I +don't know how they will like that make-believe part." + +Away ran the child to Squire that she might tell him Uncle Charlie was +just behind, and urge him forward to meet him. The soldier looked after +her with a rueful expression. + +"'Le roi est mort; vive le roi!'" he said--("'The king is dead; live the +king!') My little sweetheart is a gem, if she did go back on me for Uncle +Charlie." + +While Lewie Kurl talked with Roberta the animal he rode seemed laboring +under strange excitement. She looked back at the horses in old Squire's +wagon, neighed joyously and with spirit. Absorbed in his conversation, +Lewie let the reins fall loosely about the mare's neck. In an instant she +turned and made for the wagon. Then began a pantomimic show of +affectionate demonstrations. The old comrades of the stable and meadow +kissed and caressed each other fondly. It required a firm hold upon the +reins to separate them. When Lewie rejoined his companion his mare tossed +her mane angrily at the turn affairs had taken. Little shivers of +dissatisfaction ran over her. She continued to look back and neigh, almost +viciously, and one of the horses in old Squire's wagon responded in like +manner. + + Back again to the bluegrass, + Horse and rider too; + Back again to the old haunts, + Comrades tried and true. + Forgot, the weary marches; + Forgot, the hunger and cold. + Back again to the bluegrass, + And hearts whose worth is gold. + +As old Squire and the children moved on a squad of soldiers mounted the +crest of the hill, then halted. They met right there a man in citizen's +clothes, on horseback, with a pair of fat saddle-bags swung across the +pommel of his saddle. The men in gray surrounded him instantly; one seized +hold of his bridle-rein, another made threatening demonstrations toward +his saddle-bags. + +"O, Uncle Squire," cried Roberta, "that's Mr. Shanks, that's Sallie's dear +grandpapa! O, my heart just trembles for him. I hope they won't do any +thing to him." + +"Yes, dat's him. He dun kotch up wid at las'. He gwiner be paid back fur +all hees meanness at las'." + +"Where are you going?" asked he who held the bridle-rein. + +"Home, to my family." + +"What have you got in your saddle-bags?" was next asked. + +"Nothing but a calico dress for my wife." + +"Well, hand it out; I know a 'print' when I see it," responded he who had +made the threatening demonstrations towards the saddle-bags--was even then +diving in them. + +"O, Uncle Squire," cried Roberta, "won't they give the calico dress back +to him? Poor Mrs. Shanks needs it awfully. The one she has on is all +faded, and her elbows are out." + +"If he's gotter calicer dress en thar fur her," grunted old Squire, +"'twill be de fus'. I heered her say he never give her de rappens ob her +finger, en dat she wuden min' hees whippen' her ef hee'd unly previde fur +her." + +He who was diving in Mr. Shanks' saddle-bags, drew thence a long slip of +white paper with something printed on it in black letters. He cleared his +throat, and read aloud the following: + + "Fellow-citizens, I took up arms for my country in the War of 1812, + and were it not for the infirmities of age, would be again in the + saddle, to drive that notorious horse-thief and scoundrel, John + Morgan, from the State." + +"You would, hey?" said the soldier. "Well, wait here a little, and see +what General Morgan says about that." + +A dust was even then arising ahead, and in a few moments a squad of +Confederates dashed up. The foremost one, a soldierly looking-man, with a +pair of keen, humorous eyes, halted beside the group on the hill-side. + +"What are you detaining this gentleman for?" he asked, in a clear, +ringing voice; "we are not making war on citizens." + +"Well; but, General, just see this circular," handing him one. + +General Morgan took it, glanced over it, then with a shrug of his +shoulders and a "pshaw!" dropped it to the ground, and rode on. The +vidette followed him. + +"Well; but, General, what must we do with the prisoner?" + +"Do?" responded the General, "Do? Why, turn him loose. He is nothing but a +little constable." + +Up to the moment Roberta heard the circular read, her sympathies were all +with Mr. Shanks, the poor man looked so terribly frightened. He had +started out with his circulars, not knowing the Confederates were within a +hundred miles; and he expected every moment to have a bullet put through +his brain, or be swung up to the nearest limb. When she heard the circular +read, the wind veered from another quarter altogether. + +As the soldiers rode off, the released prisoner came swiftly towards +Squire and the children. + +"I wish you would let me empty these drotted things under them 'taters an' +apples, thar," he said. + +Roberta came forward before Squire could reply. + +"No, indeed, you can't put those dreadful things in our wagon. No, indeed. +I heard what you said about my Uncle Charlie, just the dearest and best +man on this earth." + +"I never said nothing about your Uncle Charlie," said Mr. Shanks, +recognizing the child. + +"Well, you said it about General Morgan, and that's the same thing. My +Uncle Charlie is one of his captains, and I think General Morgan is the +bestest man that ever lived not to do something awful to you. If I was +you, I would turn over a new leaf, and stop writing bad things about +people, your neighbors, too; and the Bible says, 'Love your neighbors as +yourself.' Mamma read it to me last night." + +Who was that dashing towards them in a cloud of dust? Dust whitening his +long, unkempt beard; whitening his brown, curly locks; belted all around +with pistols and knives; teeth glistening through his tawny mustache; +radiant, positively radiant with joy, as he leaped from his panting horse, +and fairly crushed the startled child in his arms? She screamed aloud in +nervous terror. + +"O, you goosey!" said he, "don't you know Uncle Charlie?" + +The next minute he had sprung on to the wagon wheel, squeezed old Squire's +hand until the bones snapped, and snatched up a hatful of russets, +craunching one of them between his white teeth, stopping after each bite +to ask questions about everybody at home. Well, I reckon there were never +three happier children than the three who returned home that afternoon, +with the tall soldier walking beside them, leading his horse, and eating +russet apples as fast as ever he could. Old Squire jolted slowly along +behind, grinning from ear to ear. + +Uncle Charlie wouldn't sleep in the house that night, but wrapped himself +in his blanket and laid down on the ground under a great elm tree in the +corner of the yard, with his faithful horse close by. Mrs. Marsden and +Roberta watched from an upper porch, and old Squire by the avenue gate. + +At least Roberta thought she watched, but next morning mamma told her with +tears in her eyes that Uncle Charlie was gone, that somebody had given him +away. Uncle Squire heard the Federals coming, and told him, and he barely +had time to escape. + +In February of '64 old Squire came out from town one afternoon strutting, +as Aunt Judy said, for all the world just "lak er turkey goberler." He +made six consecutive trips to the sitting-room, carrying one stick of wood +each time as a pretext, before he caught Roberta's eye. When he finally +succeeded, he beckoned mysteriously to her, and she got right up and +followed him from the room. He led her out of ear-shot of the others +before he told her what he wanted. + +"Lil Missus, how's it happen dat you never axes me no mo' whar your par +is?" + +"Because, Uncle Squire, I am afraid you will tell me 'lay o'ers to catch +meddlers.'" + +"I neber sed erlong wid dat, honey, 'en you'd be de fus' one caught.' +Well, if I never sect dat, thar's nuffin' sartin erbout who I means when I +sez 'lay o'ers ter ketch meddlers'; you musen jump et conclugeons, honey. +Ennyhow, you ax me ergin, en see what I'll say dis time." + +She asked him, her eager eyes uplifted to his face, her small hands +clasped, wondering and hope bursting into instant full dawn. A way hope +has of doing in youth. + +The old man went through his accustomed facial pantomime, slapped himself +on the thigh, and blurted out: + +"In town wid de Unions. He is Kyurnel Robert Marsden now." + +"Who told you, Uncle Squire?" Her eyes were filled with sudden gathered +tears, and her scarlet lips trembled. + +"Jim, dat is Kyurnel Tadlock's man, telled me. He seed him en know'd him. +But he is mity sick, honey, mity sick." + +"O, Uncle Squire," cried the delighted child, "won't mamma go right +straight in town and take me?" + +"Well, now, dat's er gray hoss ob ernuther color. Mebbe she mout, en mebbe +she mouten." + +The child's countenance fell, her sensitive nature touched. Already a +womanly intuition, wonderful in one so childlike and ignorant of the +world's ways, begun to stir faintly. + +"If mamma can't leave Aunt Betsy, don't you reckon she will let me go with +you in town to see him, Uncle Squire?" + +"You en your mar fur dat, honey. But Squire's your man." + +That night after Aunt Betsy had been given her medicine and tucked away, +the child climbed to her mamma's lap and coddled down to her. +Instinctively she wanted the magnetism of touch to help her. And then, +with her warm breath playing about her mamma's cheek, and her little hand +nestling in hers, she told her what Squire had heard. Mrs. Marsden was not +especially startled. She had suffered so much it seemed to her sometimes +that her feelings were numb. + +"Aren't you going in town to see him, Mamma?" the child asked. + +"Me! Oh, no; I couldn't. You don't know what you ask, darling." Tears +gathered in the beautiful sad eyes. + +"Then, may I go, Mamma? May I? Squire will take good care of me." + +The mother-arms tightened around the childish form. An unwonted jealousy +sprung up in the mother-heart. Hitherto she had had her all to herself. + +"Would you leave me, darling," she asked, "my one comfort? Suppose he +should take you away from me, and carry you off where I could seldom see +you, what would become of me?" + +The child looked up in the beautiful, agitated face with surprise. + +"He would never do that. Mamma, never. In the first place, nobody on +earth _could_ take me away from my darling mamma. Then he wouldn't take me +away if he could. That would be too mean for any thing, and Squire says my +papa is a splendid gentleman." + +Mrs. Marsden made no reply to this. She sat gazing dreamily into the +glowing fire. Splendid? Yes, that was what she thought him before the hard +feeling came between them. She recalled his eyes, glowing--tender. Her +little daughter had them exactly. Those ardent glances had so bewitched +her she could have followed them to the ends of the earth. + +"Suppose he should die, poor papa, all by himself? Squire says he is very, +very sick." + +"God forbid!" cried Mrs. Marsden, "God forbid." + +"If papa has come all the way down to Kentucky," continued Roberta, "I +don't believe he came down here just to fight us, I don't indeed. It looks +to me more like he is hunting for somebody. And who should that somebody +be but my own darling mamma?" + +"It isn't probable he is hunting me, darling. It has been ten long years +since he went away. He knows where the old place is. He could have found +me easily enough." + +"Well, but may be he wasn't exactly sure about you wanting him to come. He +might have wanted ever so bad to come himself, and yet been afraid _you_ +didn't want him. I wouldn't go where I wasn't sure I was wanted," +continued the child, a fine scorn curving her lips, "no, not for any +thing." + +How much she looked like her father when she said that. + +"May I go, Mamma?" she coaxed again. "Say yes, dear Mamma. You don't know +how I've longed to have a papa like other little girls." + +Then the sorely tried heart gave a great leap and got way beyond self. + +"Yes, you may go, darling," she cried; "and may the God of the pure in +heart watch over you and bring you back safely to your lonely mother." + +The child coddled down again to her. + +"What must I tell him for you, Mamma?" she asked. + +Mrs. Marsden started. She had not expected that. + +"Send him kind message, Mamma, just like your own sweet self. You are so +good to everybody, and he is your little daughter's papa, and you love him +dearly, don't you, dear Mamma?" + +Then the woman-heart gave a great leap and reached out to that other heart +the child was pleading for, and it seemed as if they touched, although +miles separated them, and pride lay prostrate. + +"I have erred," she reasoned dumbly, "erred in the sight of God and man. I +have been hard, hard. What right have I to hold him to so strict an +account? By my own contrition and unutterable yearning to behold his +face, will I judge him, and naught else, the husband of my youth, once +the delight of my eyes." + +Then, having gone thus far, she could stop at nothing. Her eyes shone, +varying emotions chased over her beautiful face, her whole nature unbent, +tender, as when she stood in that room in the old days and heard the +benediction that pronounced them man and wife. + +"O, you dear child!" she cried, "surely God has put in your little hands +the gift of healing. Tell him, tell him, your Father, that for ten long +years, the string has been on the outside of the latch for him. Tell +him"--then, utterly unable to say more, she bowed her head and wept. +Roberta clung to her and caressed her. That phase of her mother's +character touched her unspeakably, young as she was. She never forgot it. +It was a revelation of how blessed a possession is the heart that is +incapable of cherishing resentment. + +"O, you darling mother!" she cried, "I don't believe God's angels are any +sweeter than you." + +When Roberta and old Squire reached the house where they had been told +Colonel Marsden was lying sick they saw an officer sitting in the front +room, writing busily by a table. He looked up as they entered, startled by +the vision of childish beauty before him. Roberta's scarlet hood, edged +with swansdown, was pushed back, and her hair lay in fluffy golden rings +on her white forehead. Her cloak, the color of her hood, was bordered with +the same snowy, feathery trimming. She carried in her hand a tiny, +swansdown muff. The rich blood of health mantled her cheek. Her eyes were +like stars. Where had he seen them before, those wondrously beautiful +eyes? + +In person and manner Roberta was like her mother, but her features were +her father's. A little aristocrat she was, from the poise of her golden +head to the tip of her prunella boots. + +"Well," said the officer, laying down his pen, "what can I do for you, +little lady?" + +The child turned to Squire, who came forward and stood in embarrassed +silence, uneasily shifting his position from one foot to the other. He had +been advised by saucy Polly "not ter skeer fo'ks ter def by de way he dun +his face," and he was a little out of his moorings. But finally he managed +to say: + +"It's Mars Robert Marsden, sah, dat me and Lil Missus wan'er see." + +"Well, who is Lil Missus? and what is she to Colonel Marsden?" + +His admiring gaze was directed again to the child. + +"Shee's his own flesh en blood, sah; nuffin' shorter; hees lil gal dat wuz +born'd arfter he wen' back ter N'ark." + +"Whew," whistled the officer; "I didn't know Colonel Marsden was a family +man. That accounts for many things, I have always thought peculiar in a +man of his attractive personality. Well, I am sure I envy him his newly +found daughter. Wait here a little, and I will see if the Colonel is +awake. He is convalescent now, and will doubtless be glad to see you +both." + +He returned in a moment and said, "Colonel Marsden is asleep, and I +thought best not to awaken him; but you shall see him," he said to +Roberta, "just as soon as he awakes." + +The child could not repress her eagerness. + +"I can't wait," she cried; "I want to see him so bad. Let me go in and +look at him while he is asleep. I won't make any noise. That's the way I +do mamma when she has headache." + +"Well," said the officer, smiling, "go right in." + +Squire started to follow. + +"No; you wait outside. Two at once might make him a little nervous. He has +been a very sick man." + +Roberta crept softly in on tiptoe. The room was darkened, and there was no +light save the reflection of the fire. Colonel Marsden was, in health, a +superbly handsome man. But, as he lay there in the dim light, emaciated +and pallid, there was something almost touching in the droop of his +shoulders and the look of helpless weakness about the mouth. It was not +long before he stirred uneasily and opened his eyes. His gaze fell +directly on the child sitting beside him and looking at him with her whole +heart in her eyes. + +"Who are you?" he asked. + +"I am Roberta Marsden. My papa's name is Robert, and my mamma called me +Roberta after him." + +[Illustration: "My Papa's name was Robert, and my Mamma named me Roberta, +after him."] + +He raised himself upon one elbow. A flush burned in his cheeks. It was +like a flame through alabaster. + +"I don't understand," he said; "what does it all mean?" + +Right there old Squire put in an appearance. + +"Don't you know me, Mars Robert? It's Squire dat useter 'long ter you." + +"Yes; I know you. How are you, Squire? But this child, who is she?" + +"Your own flesh an' blood, Mars Robert, born'd after you went away an' +left Miss July." + +Colonel Marsden sank back on the pillow with a groan and covered his eyes +with his hands. + +"O, Uncle Squire!" cried Roberta, "you have hurt his feelings. But she +isn't mad at you, Papa, not a bit. She told me to tell you, that for ten +long years the string has been on the outside of the latch for you. She +did indeed, Papa." + +"She is an angel," said Colonel Marsden. There was moisture in his fine +eyes. + +"That's what Mam' Sarah says. She says she is afraid every morning that +she will find mamma's wings sprouting." + +"But why was I not written to? Why was I not told I had a child?" Again a +groan escaped him. "My God!" he cried, "I forgot I had no right to +expect that. Like a self-willed child I wantonly threw away life's +choicest blessings, was unmindful of its most sacred obligations." + +His lips moved for an instant in silent prayer, and then he stretched out +his arms yearningly toward the child and asked almost humbly: + +"Will my little daughter give me a kiss?" + +The child crept to him and kissed him again and again. + +"I do not deserve this blessing from Heaven; I do not deserve this darling +little daughter." + +"And you have the darlingest and most beautiful wife in all the world!" +cried the child. + +"Lawd, honey!" said old Squire--he was in a broad grin--"he know'd her +long fo' you did." + +"Is she like this?" asked Colonel Marsden. + +He reached under his pillow and drew thence a small square case and handed +it to Roberta. + +Roberta fairly screamed: "It's my mamma; it's my own darling mamma! Now I +know how much you love her, or you wouldn't carry her picture about with +you." + +"It has never been away from me an instant, never one instant." + +"Why did you stay away from her so long if you loved her so dearly?" Her +great brown eyes were lifted in wonder to his face. "I can't stay away +from her a single day. Sometimes, even when I'm just out in the yard +playing, I have to come back and peep at mamma, to be sure she is there." + +A red flush mounted to Colonel Marsden's temples. + +"I must tell her first, little daughter; and if she forgives me, will not +you?" + +"O yes!" cried the child delightedly. "I won't wait for you to tell me. +I'll forgive you right now, before I know, and so will mamma. Mam' Sarah +says it makes you feel good all over to forgive people, 'sho' 'nuff.'" +Then, her tender heart touched by the appealing look in Colonel Marsden's +eyes, she added: "Mamma says we must have faith in people and not blame +'em, but believe that nearly everybody does the very best they can. And we +don't know, even when they do _wrong_, what makes 'em. You know, Papa," +continued the little theologian gravely, "nobody ever does _exactly_ right +in this world." + +When old Squire and Roberta returned home they found Aunt Betsy very sick, +and Mrs. Marsden entirely occupied at her bed-side. It was a great +disappointment to the child, she was so eager to bring father and mother +together, but Mrs. Marsden was firm. + +"Your father does not need me, darling; but she does. And it is right +always to take up the duty that is nearest." + +It was an anxious night; but when morning came the sick woman was better, +and resting easily. Soon after breakfast, as Mrs. Marsden and Roberta were +standing by the window in the sitting-room, and looking out at the yard, +bathed in light and sparkling with dew, an ambulance appeared in the +avenue. It stopped in front of the porch; two officers descended from it +and assisted a third one down the steps, then they supported him to the +door. + +"It's papa," cried Roberta; "he is like me, he couldn't wait." + +She ran to meet him, beaming with joy, and led him to the sitting-room, +opened the door for him, and, with strange tact in a child so young, left +father and mother alone together. Robert Marsden was once more in the +quaint old room where he first courted his wife. He was ready to do the +courting all over again, glad of the opportunity and thankful for the +familiar associations that would naturally appeal to both. The room was +very little changed. The wear is less in the country, and then Dame +Fashion, our capricious queen, is not so absolute there. When he last saw +it, 'twas in the early morning. He remembered so well what took him there. +The night before they had one of their heated discussions about selling +the negroes, selling the old place, and moving north. When his wife turned +to leave the room there was something in her figure and bearing that +stirred him strangely. Before he retired, feeling that he had a strong +additional claim upon her, as one would reasonably have, upon whom rested +the responsibility of providing for a family, he wrote to her, and of +course in his masterful way urged her to accede to his request. "Sleep on +it," he wrote, "and let me know before I leave in the morning" (he was +going north on business). "Send your reply to the sitting-room, only a +line, telling me I am free to make my business arrangements in New York, +and return for you." + +As he recalled the way in which he expressed himself, a qualm of shame +crossed his heart. "A selfish brute!" he groaned in spirit: "never +occurring to _him_ to yield, always trying to bend _her_." Well, there was +nothing for him that morning, and he had gone off with a hot heart, +feeling that any thing was better than the life of disinclination he was +forced to lead, if he remained. Yes, the room was as little changed as +she, there, coming toward him with outstretched hands. + +Although her eyes fell beneath his searching glances, and hot blushes +suffused her cheeks, she, the mother of his child and many years gone his +wife, he did not move one step to meet her advances. O, her pitiable +confusion! + +"Our child," he said, "the beautiful little daughter you have given me, +tells me you still care for me, though, God knows, I don't see how you +could, except that it is your nature and you can't help it. But what I +want to know is this, has the outrage I put upon you caused the fire, that +once burned in your heart for me, to smoulder to ashes, where only a +pleasant warmth remains, or is there still fire there that I can rekindle +to the old-time blaze, no matter what the effort required? What I want, +Julia, is my old place in your heart, if I can have it. I was never a man +that could do things in moderation; and, God help me, undeserving as I am, +that and that alone will satisfy me." + +"The fire still burns, my husband; O, how can you doubt it?" + +And then the hungry arms closed about her. After a little, when she had +fixed him cosily on the couch and was kneeling beside him, he said: + +"I am not by nature an humble man, nor one glib at confession; but there +is one thing I will say, my love, this choleric temperament of mine has +been to me severer flagellation than was ever administered by priestly +hands in expiation of heinous offenses. But I will _down_ it yet, my love; +God helping me, I will down it yet." + +The door opened and a golden head was visible. + +"May I come in, dear Mamma?" + +Colonel Marsden stretched forth his disengaged hand and drew the child to +him. + +"She is like you, love," he said fondly. + +"Her eyes are yours, Robert. I remember, when she was a baby, how I used +to hang over her, longing for her to awaken, that I might see her eyes." + +Colonel Marsden's grasp tightened on his wife's slender white fingers. + +"Mam' Sarah was afraid I would make her nervous. She would steal her away, +carry her down to the loom-house, and rock her to sleep on her lap." + +"I remember it perfectly, Mamma," said Roberta, grave as an owl. "I wore +the same robe and cloak and cap that I dressed the gun in that time." + +Colonel Marsden laughed heartily; her diverting words, coming just at that +moment, were a relief to both. The negroes had talked to the child so much +about her birth and babyhood, she had come to believe that she remembered +them herself. Every date of late years went back to the time "fo' Lil +Missus wuz born'd," or the time "sence she was born'd," or the time "when +she was born'd." Old Squire especially humored the conceit: + +"Lemme see, Lil Missus; what room?" + +"The front room up stairs, Uncle Squire, with the sweet-brier roses +climbing in the window, and the beautiful red and black rag carpet Mam' +Sarah made." + +"Jes' so, Lil Missus; what bed?" + +"The great high bed, with the posts and tester and muslin ruffle, I +remember Aunt Betsy put a little Bible in my hand as soon as I was born, +and shut my fingers down tight on it, because she wanted me to love the +Bible first, before every thing." + +"Jes' so, Lil Missus; jes' so. I allers sed you wuzer sharp one. But who'd +s'poze, now, you cud rikerlec so fur back? He-he-he." + +Roberta cuddled down, like a kitten, on the rug before the blazing fire, +and looked delightedly at her mother and father. + +"Real papas are so much nicer than make-believe papas. I don't think I +can play that way again; it makes me hungry to see the difference. O, I +wish Uncle Charlie was here, too, and that other one." + +"I would like to see Uncle Charlie, too" (Colonel Marsden turned +laughingly to his wife), "but I don't wish he was here. I remember what a +pet he was of yours in the old days, love--the curly-haired scamp. He +could wheedle you and Aunt Betsy out of any thing he wanted. Such a tender +heart he had--mad as fire one minute, and tears in his eyes the next--but +withal so fearless and high-minded and lovable." + +"God bless and watch over him," Mrs. Marsden softly added, "and bring him +back safely to us all, my dear, my only brother." + +"Amen," responded Colonel Marsden. + +Good-bye to Roberta Marsden's child-life on the old farm! Good-bye to the +child mind that thought no evil; to the child-heart that reached out to +all other hearts, and drew them within a charmed circle of affection! +Good-bye to the kindly black faces that the child loved, and the simple, +homely lives she saw so much beauty in! Good-bye to the old house that she +loved, with Carlo, the watchdog, dozing on the porch in the sunshine; and +the peafowl close by, spreading his wondrous-hued tail and strutting; to +the old parlor, with its quaint papering and quaint furnishing suggesting +dead and gone generations! + +Good-bye to the old farm, with its peaceful, busy days; its glad days and +its sad days; its merry songsters and its whip-poor-wills; its old-time +industries and its hearty hospitalities! Good-bye! + + +[Illustration] + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THAT OLD-TIME CHILD, ROBERTA*** + + +******* This file should be named 14897.txt or 14897.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/8/9/14897 + + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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