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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/18531-8.txt b/18531-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..027482d --- /dev/null +++ b/18531-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4482 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Timothy's Quest, by Kate Douglas Wiggin + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Timothy's Quest + A Story for Anybody, Young or Old, Who Cares to Read It + +Author: Kate Douglas Wiggin + +Release Date: June 7, 2006 [EBook #18531] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TIMOTHY'S QUEST *** + + + + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This book was produced from scanned images of public +domain material from the Google Print project) + + + + + + + + + + + + By Mrs. Wiggin. + + + THE BIRDS' CHRISTMAS CAROL. Illustrated. Square 12mo, boards, 50 cents. + + THE STORY OF PATSY, Illustrated. Square 12mo, boards, 60 cents. + + A SUMMER IN A CAŅON. A California Story. Illustrated. New Edition. 16mo, + $1.25. + + TIMOTHY'S QUEST. A Story for Anybody, Young or Old, who cares to read + it. 16mo, $1.00. + + THE STORY HOUR. A Book for the Home and Kindergarten. By Mrs. Wiggin and + Nora A. Smith. Illustrated. 16mo, $1.00. + + CHILDREN'S RIGHTS. A Book of Nursery Logic. 16mo, $1.00. + + A CATHEDRAL COURTSHIP, and PENELOPE'S ENGLISH EXPERIENCES. Illustrated. + 16mo, $1.00. + + POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM. Illustrated, 16mo, $1.00. + + + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. + BOSTON AND NEW YORK. + + + + + TIMOTHY'S QUEST + + _A STORY FOR ANYBODY, YOUNG OR OLD, + WHO CARES TO READ IT_ + + BY + + KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN + + AUTHOR OF "BIRDS' CHRISTMAS CAROL," "THE STORY OF PATSY," + "A SUMMER IN A CAŅON," ETC. + + [Illustration: The Riverside Press logo.] + + + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY + The Riverside Press, Cambridge + 1894 + + + + + Copyright, 1890, + + BY KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN + + _All rights reserved._ + + + THIRTY-SEVENTH THOUSAND + + + _The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A._ + Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company. + + + + + To + + NORA + + DEAREST SISTER, STERNEST CRITIC, + + BEST FRIEND. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + SCENE I. + PAGE + + FLOSSY MORRISON LEARNS THE SECRET OF DEATH + WITHOUT EVER HAVING LEARNED THE SECRET + OF LIFE 7 + + + SCENE II. + + LITTLE TIMOTHY JESSUP ASSUMES PARENTAL RESPONSIBILITIES 17 + + + SCENE III. + + TIMOTHY PLANS A CAMPAIGN, AND PROVIDENCE + MATERIALLY ASSISTS IN CARRYING IT OUT, OR + VICE VERSA 26 + + + SCENE IV. + + JABE SLOCUM ASSUMES THE RÔLE OF GUARDIAN + ANGEL 39 + + + SCENE V. + + TIMOTHY FINDS A HOUSE IN WHICH HE THINKS A + BABY IS NEEDED, BUT THE INMATES DO NOT + ENTIRELY AGREE WITH HIM 51 + + + SCENE VI. + + TIMOTHY, LADY GAY, AND RAGS PROVE FAITHFUL + TO EACH OTHER 63 + + SCENE VII. + + MISTRESS AND MAID FIND TO THEIR AMAZEMENT + THAT A CHILD, MORE THAN ALL OTHER GIFTS, + BRINGS HOPE WITH IT, AND FORWARD LOOKING + THOUGHTS 74 + + + SCENE VIII. + + JABE AND SAMANTHA EXCHANGE HOSTILITIES, AND + THE FORMER SAYS A GOOD WORD FOR THE + LITTLE WANDERERS 87 + + + SCENE IX. + + "NOW THE END OF THE COMMANDMENT IS CHARITY, + OUT OF A PURE HEART" 100 + + + SCENE X. + + AUNT HITTY COMES TO "MAKE OVER," AND SUPPLIES + BACK NUMBERS TO ALL THE VILLAGE + HISTORIES 112 + + + SCENE XI. + + MISS VILDA DECIDES THAT TWO IS ONE TOO MANY, + AND TIMOTHY BREAKS A HUMMING-BIRD'S EGG 126 + + + SCENE XII. + + LYDDY PETTIGROVE'S FUNERAL 143 + + + SCENE XIII. + + PLEASANT RIVER IS BAPTIZED WITH THE SPIRIT OF + ADOPTION 152 + + + SCENE XIV. + + TIMOTHY JESSUP RUNS AWAY A SECOND TIME, + AND, LIKE OTHER BLESSINGS, BRIGHTENS AS + HE TAKES HIS FLIGHT 166 + + SCENE XV. + + LIKE ALL DOGS IN FICTION, THE FAITHFUL RAGS + GUIDES MISS VILDA TO HIS LITTLE MASTER 179 + + + SCENE XVI. + + TIMOTHY'S QUEST IS ENDED, AND SAMANTHA SAYS, + "COME ALONG, DAVE" 189 + + + + +TIMOTHY'S QUEST. + + + + +SCENE I. + +_Number Three, Minerva Court. First floor front._ + +FLOSSY MORRISON LEARNS THE SECRET OF DEATH WITHOUT EVER HAVING LEARNED +THE SECRET OF LIFE. + + +Minerva Court! Veil thy face, O Goddess of Wisdom, for never, surely, +was thy fair name so ill bestowed as when it was applied to this most +dreary place! + +It was a little less than street, a little more than alley, and its only +possible claim to decency came from comparison with the busier +thoroughfare out of which it opened. This was so much fouler, with its +dirt and noise, its stands of refuse fruit and vegetables, its dingy +shops and all the miserable traffic that the place engendered, its +rickety doorways blocked with lounging men, its Blowsabellas leaning on +the window-sills, that the Court seemed by contrast a most desirable and +retired place of residence. + +But it was a dismal spot, nevertheless, with not even an air of faded +gentility to recommend it. It seemed to have no better days behind it, +nor to hold within itself the possibility of any future improvement. It +was narrow, and extended only the length of a city block, yet it was by +no means wanting in many of those luxuries which mark this era of modern +civilization. There were groceries, with commodious sample-rooms +attached, at each corner, and a small saloon, called "The Dearest Spot" +(which it undoubtedly was in more senses than one), in the basement of a +house at the farther end. It was necessary, however, for the bibulous +native who dwelt in the middle of the block to waste some valuable +minutes in dragging himself to one of these fountains of bliss at either +end; but at the time my story opens a wide-awake philanthropist was +fitting up a neat and attractive little bar-room, called "The Oasis," at +a point equally distant between the other two springs of human joy. + +This benefactor of humanity had a vaulting ambition. He desired to slake +the thirst of every man in Christendom; but this being impossible from +the very nature of things, he determined to settle in some arid spot +like Minerva Court, and irrigate it so sweetly and copiously that all +men's noses would blossom as the roses. To supply his brothers' wants, +and create new ones at the same time, was his purpose in establishing +this Oasis in the Desert of Minerva Court; and it might as well be +stated here that he was prospered in his undertaking, as any man is sure +to be who cherishes lofty ideals and attends to his business +industriously. + +The Minerva Courtier thus had good reason to hope that the supply of +liquid refreshment would bear some relation to the demand; and that the +march of modern progress would continue to diminish the distance between +his own mouth and that of the bottle, which, as he took it, was the +be-all and end-all of existence. + +At present, however, as the Oasis was not open to the public, children +carrying pitchers of beer were often to be seen hurrying to and fro on +their miserable errands. But there were very few children in Minerva +Court, thank God!--they were not popular there. There were frowzy, +sleepy-looking women hanging out of their windows, gossiping with their +equally unkempt and haggard neighbors; apathetic men sitting on the +doorsteps, in their shirt-sleeves, smoking; a dull, dirty baby or two +sporting itself in the gutter; while the sound of a melancholy accordion +(the chosen instrument of poverty and misery) floated from an upper +chamber, and added its discordant mite to the general desolation. + +The sidewalks had apparently never known the touch of a broom, and the +middle of the street looked more like an elongated junk-heap than +anything else. Every smell known to the nostrils of man was abroad in +the air, and several were floating about waiting modestly to be +classified, after which they intended to come to the front and outdo the +others if they could. + +That was Minerva Court! A little piece of your world, my world, God's +world (and the Devil's), lying peacefully fallow, awaiting the services +of some inspired Home Missionary Society. + +In a front room of Number Three, a dilapidated house next the corner, +there lay a still, white shape, with two women watching by it. + +A sheet covered it. Candles burned at the head, striving to throw a +gleam of light on a dead face that for many a year had never been +illuminated from within by the brightness of self-forgetting love or +kindly sympathy. If you had raised the sheet, you would have seen no +happy smile as of a half-remembered, innocent childhood; the smile--is +it of peaceful memory or serene anticipation?--that sometimes shines on +the faces of the dead. + +Such life-secrets as were exposed by Death, and written on that still +countenance in characters that all might read, were painful ones. Flossy +Morrison was dead. The name "Flossy" was a relic of what she termed her +better days (Heaven save the mark!), for she had been called Mrs. +Morrison of late years,--"Mrs. F. Morrison," who took "children to +board, and no questions asked"--nor answered. She had lived forty-five +years, as men reckon summers and winters; but she had never learned, in +all that time, to know her Mother, Nature, her Father, God, nor her +brothers and sisters, the children of the world. She had lived +friendless and unfriendly, keeping none of the ten commandments, nor yet +the eleventh, which is the greatest of all; and now there was no human +being to slip a flower into the still hand, to kiss the clay-cold lips +at the remembrance of some sweet word that had fallen from them, or drop +a tear and say, "I loved her!" + +Apparently, the two watchers did not regard Flossy Morrison even in the +light of "the dear remains," as they are sometimes called at country +funerals. They were in the best of spirits (there was an abundance of +beer), and their gruesome task would be over in a few hours; for it was +nearly four o'clock in the morning, and the body was to be taken away at +ten. + +"I tell you one thing, Ettie, Flossy hasn't left any bother for her +friends," remarked Mrs. Nancy Simmons, settling herself back in her +rocking-chair. "As she didn't own anything but the clothes on her back, +there won't be any quarreling over the property!" and she chuckled at +her delicate humor. + +"No," answered her companion, who, whatever her sponsors in baptism had +christened her, called herself Ethel Montmorency. "I s'pose the +furniture, poor as it is, will pay the funeral expenses; and if she's +got any debts, why, folks will have to whistle for their money, that's +all." + +"The only thing that worries me is the children," said Mrs. Simmons. + +"You must be hard up for something to worry about, to take those young +ones on your mind. They ain't yours nor mine, and what's more, nobody +knows who they do belong to, and nobody cares. Soon as breakfast's over +we'll pack 'em off to some institution or other, and that'll be the end +of it. What did Flossy say about 'em, when you spoke to her yesterday?" + +"I asked her what she wanted done with the young ones, and she said, 'Do +what you like with 'em, drat 'em,--it don't make no odds to me!' and +then she turned over and died. Those was the last words she spoke, dear +soul; but, Lor', she wasn't more'n half sober, and hadn't been for a +week." + +"She was sober enough to keep her own counsel, I can tell you that," +said the gentle Ethel. "I don't believe there's a living soul that knows +where those children came from;--not that anybody cares, now that there +ain't any money in 'em." + +"Well, as for that, I only know that when Flossy was seeing better days +and lived in the upper part of the city, she used to have money come +every month for taking care of the boy. Where it come from I don't +know; but I kind of surmise it was a long distance off. Then she took to +drinking, and got lower and lower down until she came here, six months +ago. I don't suppose the boy's folks, or whoever it was sent the money, +knew the way she was living, though they couldn't have cared much, for +they never came to see how things were; and he was in an asylum before +Flossy took him, I found that out; but, anyhow, the money stopped coming +three months ago. Flossy wrote twice to the folks, whoever they were, +but didn't get no answer to her letters; and she told me that she should +turn the boy out in a week or two if some cash didn't turn up in that +time. She wouldn't have kept him so long as this if he hadn't been so +handy taking care of the baby." + +"Well, who does the baby belong to?" + +"You ask me too much," replied Nancy, taking another deep draught from +the pitcher. "Help yourself, Ettie; there's plenty more where that came +from. Flossy never liked the boy, and always wanted to get rid of him, +but couldn't afford to. He's a dreadful queer, old-fashioned little kid, +and so smart that he's gettin' to be a reg'lar nuisance round the +house. But you see he and the baby,--Gabrielle's her name, but they call +her Lady Gay, or some such trash, after that actress that comes here so +much,--well, they are so in love with one another that wild horses +couldn't drag 'em apart; and I think Flossy had a kind of a likin' for +Gay, as much as she ever had for anything. I guess she never abused +either of 'em; she was too careless for that. And so what was I talkin' +about? Oh, yes. Well, I don't know who the baby is, nor who paid for her +keep; but she's goin' to be one o' your high-steppers, and no mistake. +She might be Queen Victory's daughter by the airs she puts on; I'd like +to keep her myself if she was a little older, and I wasn't goin' away +from here." + +"I s'pose they'll make an awful row at being separated, won't they?" +asked the younger woman. + +"Oh, like as not; but they'll have to have their row and get over it," +said Mrs. Simmons easily. "You can take Timothy to the Orphan Asylum +first, and then come back, and I'll carry the baby to the Home of the +Ladies' Relief and Protection Society; and if they yell they can yell, +and take it out in yellin'; they won't get the best of Nancy Simmons." + +"Don't talk so loud, Nancy, for mercy's sake. If the boy hears you, +he'll begin to take on, and we sha'n't get a wink of sleep. Don't let +'em know what you're goin' to do with 'em till the last minute, or +you'll have trouble as sure as we sit here." + +"Oh, they are sound asleep," responded Mrs. Simmons, with an uneasy look +at the half-open door. "I went in and dragged a pillow out from under +Timothy's head, and he never budged. He was sleepin' like a log, and so +was Gay. Now, shut up, Et, and let me get three winks myself. You take +the lounge, and I'll stretch out in two chairs. Wake me up at eight +o'clock, if I don't wake myself; for I'm clean tired out with all this +fussin' and plannin', and I feel stupid enough to sleep till kingdom +come." + + + + +SCENE II. + +_Number Three, Minerva Court, First floor back._ + +LITTLE TIMOTHY JESSUP ASSUMES PARENTAL RESPONSIBILITIES. + + +When the snores of the two watchers fell on the stillness of the +death-chamber, with that cheerful regularity that betokens the sleep of +the truly good, a little figure crept out of the bed in the adjoining +room and closed the door noiselessly, but with trembling fingers; +stealing then to the window to look out at the dirty street and the gray +sky over which the first faint streaks of dawn were beginning to creep. + +It was little Timothy Jessup (God alone knows whether he had any right +to that special patronymic), but not the very same Tim Jessup who had +kissed the baby Gay in her little crib, and gone to sleep on his own +hard bed in that room, a few hours before. As he stood shivering at the +window, one thin hand hard pressed upon his heart to still its beating, +there was a light of sudden resolve in his eyes, a new-born look of +anxiety on his unchildlike face. + +"I will not have Gay protectioned and reliefed, and I will not be taken +away from her and sent to a 'sylum, where I can never find her again!" +and with these defiant words trembling, half spoken, on his lips, he +glanced from the unconscious form in the crib to the terrible door, +which might open at any moment and divide him from his heart's delight, +his darling, his treasure, his only joy, his own, own baby Gay. + +But what should he do? Run away: that was the only solution of the +matter, and no very difficult one either. The cruel women were asleep; +the awful Thing that had been Flossy would never speak again; and no one +else in Minerva Court cared enough for them to pursue them very far or +very long. + +"And so," thought Timothy swiftly, "I will get things ready, take Gay, +and steal softly out of the back door, and run away to the 'truly' +country, where none of these bad people ever can find us, and where I +can get a mother for Gay; somebody to 'dopt her and love her till I +grow up a man and take her to live with me." + +The moment this thought darted into Timothy's mind, it began to shape +itself in definite action. + +Gabrielle, or Lady Gay, as Flossy called her, in honor of her favorite +stage heroine, had been tumbled into her crib half dressed the night +before. The only vehicle kept for her use in the family stables was a +clothes-basket, mounted on four wooden wheels and cushioned with a dingy +shawl. A yard of clothes-line was tied on to one end, and in this humble +conveyance the Princess would have to be transported from the Ogre's +castle; for she was scarcely old enough to accompany the Prince on foot, +even if he had dared to risk detection by waking her: so the +clothes-basket must be her chariot, and Timothy her charioteer, as on +many a less fateful expedition. + +After he had changed his ragged night-gown for a shabby suit of clothes, +he took Gay's one clean apron out of a rickety bureau drawer ("for I can +never find a mother for her if she's too dirty," he thought), her Sunday +hat from the same receptacle, and last of all a comb, and a faded +Japanese parasol that stood in a corner. These he deposited under the +old shawl that decorated the floor of the chariot. He next groped his +way in the dim light toward a mantelshelf, and took down a +savings-bank,--a florid little structure with "Bank of England" stamped +over the miniature door, into which the jovial gentleman who frequented +the house often slipped pieces of silver for the children, and into +which Flossy dipped only when she was in a state of temporary financial +embarrassment. Timothy did not dare to jingle it; he could only hope +that as Flossy had not been in her usual health of late (though in more +than her usual "spirits"), she had not felt obliged to break the bank. + +Now for provisions. There were plenty of "funeral baked meats" in the +kitchen; and he hastily gathered a dozen cookies into a towel, and +stowed them in the coach with the other sinews of war. + +So far, well and good; but the worst was to come. With his heart beating +in his bosom like a trip-hammer, and his eyes dilated with fear, he +stepped to the door between the two rooms, and opened it softly. Two +thundering snores, pitched in such different keys that they must have +proceeded from two separate sets of nasal organs, reassured the boy. He +looked out into the alley. "Not a creature was stirring, not even a +mouse." The Minerva Courtiers couldn't be owls and hawks too, and there +was not even the ghost of a sound to be heard. Satisfied that all was +well, Timothy went back to the bedroom, and lifted the battered +clothes-basket, trucks and all, in his slender arms, carried it up the +alley and down the street a little distance, and deposited it on the +pavement beside a vacant lot. This done, he sped back to the house. "How +beautifully they snore!" he thought, as he stood again on the threshold. +"Shall I leave 'em a letter?... P'raps I better ... and then they won't +follow us and bring us back." So he scribbled a line on a bit of torn +paper bag, and pinned it on the enemies' door. + + "A kind Lady is goin to Adopt us it is + a Grate ways off so do not Hunt good by. TIM." + +Now all was ready. No; one thing more. Timothy had been met in the +street by a pretty young girl a few weeks before. The love of God was +smiling in her heart, the love of children shining in her eyes; and she +led him, a willing captive, into a mission Sunday-school near by. And so +much in earnest was the sweet little teacher, and so hungry for any sort +of good tidings was the starved little pupil, that Timothy "got +religion" then and there, as simply and naturally as a child takes its +mother's milk. He was probably in a state of crass ignorance regarding +the Thirty-nine Articles; but it was the "engrafted word," of which the +Bible speaks, that had blossomed in Timothy's heart; the living seed had +always been there, waiting for some beneficent fostering influence; for +he was what dear Charles Lamb would have called a natural +"kingdom-of-heavenite." Thinking, therefore, of Miss Dora's injunction +to pray over all the extra-ordinary affairs of life and as many of the +ordinary ones as possible, he hung his tattered straw hat on the +bedpost, and knelt beside Gay's crib with this whispered prayer:-- + +"_Our Father who art in heaven, please help me to find a mother for Gay, +one that she can call Mamma, and another one for me, if there's enough, +but not unless. Please excuse me for taking away the clothes-basket, +which does not exactly belong to us; but if I do not take it, dear +heavenly Father, how will I get Gay to the railroad? And if I don't take +the Japanese umbrella she will get freckled, and nobody will adopt her. +No more at present, as I am in a great hurry. Amen._" + +He put on his hat, stooped over the sleeping baby, and took her in his +faithful arms,--arms that had never failed her yet. She half opened her +eyes, and seeing that she was safe on her beloved Timothy's shoulder, +clasped her dimpled arms tight about his neck, and with a long sigh +drifted off again into the land of dreams. Bending beneath her weight, +he stepped for the last time across the threshold, not even daring to +close the door behind him. + +Up the alley and round the corner he sped, as fast as his trembling legs +could carry him. Just as he was within sight of the goal of his +ambition, that is, the chariot aforesaid, he fancied he heard the sound +of hurrying feet behind him. To his fevered imagination the tread was +like that of an avenging army on the track of the foe. He did not dare +to look behind. On! for the clothes-basket and liberty! He would +relinquish the Japanese umbrella, the cookies, the comb, and the +apron,--all the booty, in fact,--as an inducement for the enemy to +retreat, but he would never give up the prisoner. + +On the feet hurried, faster and faster. He stooped to put Gay in the +basket, and turned in despair to meet his pursuers, when a little, +grimy, rough-coated, lop-eared, split-tailed thing, like an animated +rag-bag, leaped upon his knees; whimpering with joy, and imploring, with +every grace that his simple doggish heart could suggest, to be one of +the eloping party. + +Rags had followed them! + +Timothy was so glad to find it no worse that he wasted a moment in +embracing the dog, whose delirious joy at the prospect of this probably +dinnerless and supperless expedition was ludicrously exaggerated. Then +he took up the rope and trundled the chariot gently down a side street +leading to the station. + +Everything worked to a charm. They met only an occasional milk (and +water) man, starting on his matutinal rounds, for it was now after four +o'clock, and one or two cavaliers of uncertain gait, just returning to +their homes, several hours too late for their own good; but these +gentlemen were in no condition of mind to be over-interested, and the +little fugitives were troubled with no questions as to their intentions. + +And so they went out into the world together, these three: Timothy +Jessup (if it was Jessup), brave little knight, nameless nobleman, +tracing his descent back to God, the Father of us all, and bearing +the Divine likeness more than most of us; the little Lady +Gay,--somebody--nobody--anybody,--from nobody knows where,--destination +equally uncertain; and Rags, of pedigree most doubtful, scutcheon quite +obscured by blots, but a perfect gentleman, true-hearted and loyal to +the core,--in fact, an angel in fur. These three, with the +clothes-basket as personal property and the Bank of England as security, +went out to seek their fortune; and, unlike Lot's wife, without daring +to look behind, shook the dust of Minerva Court from off their feet +forever and forever. + + + + +SCENE III. + +_The Railway Station._ + +TIMOTHY PLANS A CAMPAIGN, AND PROVIDENCE ASSISTS MATERIALLY IN CARRYING +IT OUT, OR VICE VERSA. + + +By dint of skillful generalship, Timothy gathered his forces on a green +bank just behind the railway depot, cleared away a sufficient number of +tin cans and oyster-shells to make a flat space for the chariot of war, +which had now become simply a cradle, and sat down, with Rags curled up +at his feet, to plan the campaign. + +He pushed back the ragged hat from his waving hair, and, clasping his +knees with his hands, gazed thoughtfully at the towering chimneys in the +foreground and the white-winged ships in the distant harbor. There was a +glimpse of something like a man's purpose in the sober eyes; and as the +morning sunlight fell upon his earnest face, the angel in him came to +the surface, and crowded the "boy part" quite out of sight, as it has a +way of doing sometimes with children. + +How some father-heart would have throbbed with pride to own him, and how +gladly lifted the too heavy burden from his childish shoulders! + +Timothy Jessup, aged ten or eleven, or thereabouts (the records had not +been kept with absolute exactness)--Timothy Jessup, somewhat ragged, all +forlorn, and none too clean at the present moment, was a poet, +philosopher, and lover of the beautiful. The dwellers in Minerva Court +had never discovered the fact; for, although he had lived in that world, +he had most emphatically never been of it. He was a boy of strange +notions, and the vocabulary in which he expressed them was stranger +still; further-more, he had gentle manners, which must have been +indigenous, as they had certainly never been cultivated; and, although +he had been in the way of handling pitch for many a day, it had been +helpless to defile him, such was the essential purity of his nature. + +To find a home and a mother for Lady Gay had been Timothy's secret +longing ever since he had heard people say that Flossy might die. He +had once enjoyed all the comforts of a Home with a capital H; but it was +the cosy one with the little "h" that he so much desired for her. + +Not that he had any ill treatment to remember in the excellent +institution of which he was for several years an inmate. The matron was +an amiable and hard-working woman, who wished to do her duty to all the +children under her care; but it would be an inspired human being indeed +who could give a hundred and fifty motherless or fatherless children all +the education and care and training they needed, to say nothing of the +love that they missed and craved. What wonder, then, that an occasional +hungry little soul, starved for want of something not provided by the +management; say, a morning cuddle in father's bed or a ride on father's +knee,--in short, the sweet daily jumble of lap-trotting, gentle +caressing, endearing words, twilight stories, motherly tucks-in-bed, +good-night kisses,--all the dear, simple, every-day accompaniments of +the home with the little "h." + +Timothy Jessup, bred in such an atmosphere, would have gladdened every +life that touched his at any point. Plenty of wistful men and women +would have thanked God nightly on their knees for the gift of such a +son; and here he was, sitting on a tin can, bowed down with family +cares, while thousands of graceless little scalawags were slapping the +faces of their French nurse-maids and bullying their parents, in that +very city.--Ah me! + +As for the tiny Lady Gay, she had all the winsome virtues to recommend +her. No one ever feared that she would die young out of sheer goodness. +You would not have loved her so much for what she was as because you +couldn't help yourself. This feat once accomplished, she blossomed into +a thousand graces, each one more bewitching than the last you noted. + +Where, in the name of all the sacred laws of heredity, did the child get +her sunshiny nature? Born in misery, and probably in sin, nurtured in +wretchedness and poverty, she had brought her "radiant morning visions" +with her into the world. Like Wordsworth's immortal babe, "with trailing +clouds of glory" had she come, from God who was her home; and the heaven +that lies about us all in our infancy,--that Garden of Eden into which +we are all born, like the first man and the first woman,--that heaven +lay about her still, stronger than the touch of earth. + +What if the room were desolate and bare? The yellow sunbeams stole +through the narrow window, and in the shaft of light they threw across +the dirty floor Gay played,--oblivious of everything save the flickering +golden rays that surrounded her. + +The raindrops chasing each other down the dingy pane, the snowflakes +melting softly on the casement, the brown leaf that the wind blew into +her lap as she sat on the sidewalk, the chirp of the little +beggar-sparrows over the cobblestones, all these brought as eager a +light into her baby eyes as the costliest toy. With no earthly father or +mother to care for her, she seemed to be God's very own baby, and He +amused her in his own good way; first by locking her happiness within +her own soul (the only place where it is ever safe for a single moment), +and then by putting her under Timothy's paternal ministrations. + +Timothy's mind traveled back over the past, as he sat among the tin cans +and looked at Rags and Gay. It was a very small story, if he ever found +any one who would care to hear it. There was a long journey in a great +ship, a wearisome illness of many weeks,--or was it months?--when his +curls had been cut off, and all his memories with them; then there was +the Home; then there was Flossy, who came to take him away; then--oh, +bright, bright spot! oh, blessed time!--there was baby Gay; then, worse +than all, there was Minerva Court. But he did not give many minutes to +reminiscence. He first broke open the Bank of England, and threw it +away, after finding to his joy that their fortune amounted to one dollar +and eighty-five cents. This was so much in advance of his expectations +that he laughed aloud; and Rags, wagging his tail with such vigor that +he nearly broke it in two, jumped into the cradle and woke the baby. + +Then there was a happy family circle, you may believe me, and with good +reason, too! A trip to the country (meals and lodging uncertain, but +that was a trifle), a sight of green meadows, where Tim would hear real +birds sing in the trees, and Gay would gather wild flowers, and Rags +would chase, and perhaps--who knows?--catch toothsome squirrels and fat +little field-mice, of which the country dogs visiting Minerva Court had +told the most mouth-watering tales. Gay's transport knew no bounds. Her +child-heart felt no regret for the past, no care for the present, no +anxiety for the future. The only world she cared for was in her sight; +and she had never, in her brief experience, gazed upon it with more +radiant anticipation than on this sunny June morning, when she had +opened her bright eyes on a pleasant, odorous bank of oyster-shells, +instead of on the accustomed surroundings of Minerva Court. + +Breakfast was first in order. + +There was a pump conveniently near, and the oyster-shells made capital +cups. Gay had three cookies, Timothy two, and Rags one; but there was no +statute of limitations placed on the water; every one had as much as he +could drink. + +The little matter of toilets came next. Timothy took the dingy rag which +did duty for a handkerchief, and, calling the pump again into +requisition, scrubbed Gay's face and hands tenderly, but firmly. Her +clothes were then all smoothed down tidily, but the clean apron was kept +for the eventful moment when her future mother should first be allowed +to behold the form of her adopted child. + +The comb was then brought out, and her mop of red-gold hair was assisted +to fall in wet spirals all over her lovely head, which always "wiggled" +too much for any more formal style of hair-dressing. Her Sunday hat +being tied on, as the crowning glory, this lucky little princess, this +child of Fortune, so inestimably rich in her own opinion, this daughter +of the gods, I say, was returned to the basket, where she endeavored to +keep quiet until the next piece of delightful unexpectedness should rise +from fairy-land upon her excited gaze. + +Timothy and Rags now went to the pump, and Rags was held under the +spout. This was a new and bitter experience, and he wished for a few +brief moments that he had never joined the noble army of deserters, but +had stayed where dirt was fashionable. Being released, the sense of +abnormal cleanliness mounted to his brain, and he tore breathlessly +round in a circle seventy-seven times without stopping. But this only +dried his hair and amused Gay, who was beginning to find the basket +confining, and who clamored for "Timfy" to take her to "yide." + +Timothy attended to himself last, as usual. He put his own head under +the pump, and scrubbed his face and hands heartily; wiping them on +his--well, he wiped them, and that is the main thing; besides, his +handkerchief had been reduced to a pulp in Gay's service. He combed his +hair, pulled up his stockings and tied his shoes neatly, buttoned his +jacket closely over his shirt, and was just pinning up the rent in his +hat, when Rags considerately brought another suggestion in the shape of +an old chicken-wing, with which he brushed every speck of dust from his +clothes. This done, and being no respecter of persons, he took the +family comb to Rags, who woke the echoes during the operation, and hoped +to the Lord that the squirrels would run slowly and that the field-mice +would be very tender, to pay him for this. + +It was now nearly eight o'clock, and the party descended the hillside +and entered the side door of the station. + +The day's work had long since begun, and there was the usual din and +uproar of railroad traffic. Trucks, laden high with boxes and barrels, +were being driven to the wide doors, and porters were thundering and +thumping and lurching the freight from one set of cars into another; +their primary objects being to make a racket and demolish raw material, +thereby increasing manufacture and export, but incidentally to load or +unload as much freight as possible in a given time. + +Timothy entered, trundling his carriage, where Lady Gay sat enthroned +like a Murray Hill belle on a dog-cart, conscious pride of Sunday hat on +week-day morning exuding from every feature; and Rags followed close +behind, clean, but with a crushed spirit, which he could stimulate only +by the most seductive imaginations. No one molested them, for Timothy +was very careful not to get in any one's way. Finally, he drew up in +front of a high blackboard, on which the names of various way-stations +were printed in gold letters:-- + + CHESTERTOWN. + SANDFORD. + REEDVILLE. + BINGHAM. + SKAGGSTOWN. + ESBURY. + SCRATCH CORNER. + HILLSIDE. + MOUNTAIN VIEW. + EDGEWOOD. + PLEASANT RIVER. + +"The names get nicer and nicer as you read down the line, and the +furtherest one of all is the very prettiest, so I guess we'll go there," +thought Timothy, not realizing that his choice was based on most +insecure foundations; and that, for aught he knew, the milk of human +kindness might have more cream on it at Scratch Corner than at Pleasant +River, though the latter name was certainly more attractive. + +Gay approved of Pleasant River, and so did Rags; and Timothy moved off +down the station to a place on the open platform where a train of cars +stood ready for starting, the engine at the head gasping and puffing and +breathing as hard as if it had an acute attack of asthma. + +"How much does it cost to go to Pleasant River, please?" asked Tim, +bravely, of a kind-looking man in a blue coat and brass buttons, who +stood by the cars. + +"This is a freight train, sonny," replied the man; "takes four hours to +get there. Better wait till 10.45; buy your ticket up in the station." + +"10.45!" Tim saw visions of Mrs. Simmons speeding down upon him in hot +pursuit, kindled by Gay's disappearance into an appreciation of her +charms. + +The tears stood in his eyes as Gay clambered out of the basket, and +danced with impatience, exclaiming, "Gay wants to yide now! yide now! +yide now!" + +"Did you want to go sooner?" asked the man, who seemed to be entirely +too much interested in humanity to succeed in the railroad business. +"Well, as you seem to have consid'rable of a family on your hands, I +guess we'll take you along. Jim, unlock that car and let these children +in, and then lock it up again. It's a car we're taking up to the end of +the road for repairs, bubby, so the comp'ny 'll give you and your folks +a free ride!" + +Timothy thanked the man in his politest manner, and Gay pressed a piece +of moist cooky in his hand, and offered him one of her swan's-down +kisses, a favor of which she was usually as chary as if it had possessed +a market value. + +"Are you going to take the dog?" asked the man, as Rags darted up the +steps with sniffs and barks of ecstatic delight. "He ain't so handsome +but you can get another easy enough!" (Rags held his breath in suspense, +and wondered if he had been put under a roaring cataract, and then +ploughed in deep furrows with a sharp-toothed instrument of torture, +only to be left behind at last!) + +"That's just why I take him," said Timothy; "because he isn't handsome +and has nobody else to love him." + +("Not a very polite reason," thought Rags; "but anything to go!") + +"Well, jump in, dog and all, and they'll give you the best free ride to +the country you ever had in your life! Tell 'em it's all right, Jim;" +and the train steamed out of the depot, while the kind man waved his +bandana handkerchief until the children were out of sight. + + + + +SCENE IV. + +_Pleasant River._ + +JABE SLOCUM ASSUMES THE RÔLE OF GUARDIAN ANGEL. + + +Jabe Slocum had been down to Edgewood, and was just returning to the +White Farm, by way of the cross-roads and Hard Scrabble school-house. He +was in no hurry, though he always had more work on hand than he could +leave undone for a month; and Maria also was taking her own time, as +usual, even stopping now and then to crop an unusually sweet tuft of +grass that grew within smelling distance, and which no mare (with a +driver like Jabe) could afford to pass without notice. + +Jabe was ostensibly out on an "errant" for Miss Avilda Cummins; but, as +he had been in her service for six years, she had no expectations of his +accomplishing anything beyond getting to a place and getting back in the +same day, the distance covered being no factor at all in the matter. + +But one needn't go to Miss Avilda Cummins for a description of Jabe +Slocum's peculiarities. They were all so written upon his face and +figure and speech that the wayfaring man, though a fool, could not err +in his judgment. He was a long, loose, knock-kneed, slack-twisted +person, and would have been "longer yit if he hedn't hed so much turned +up for feet,"--so Aunt Hitty Tarbox said. (Aunt Hitty went from house to +house in Edgewood and Pleasant River, making over boys' clothes; and as +her tongue flew as fast as her needle, her sharp speeches were always in +circulation in both villages.) + +Mr. Slocum had sandy hair, high cheekbones, a pair of kindly light blue +eyes, and a most unique nose: I hardly know to what order of +architecture it belonged,--perhaps Old Colonial would describe it as +well as anything else. It was a wide, flat, well-ventilated, hospitable +edifice (so to speak), so peculiarly constructed and applied that +Samantha Ann Ripley (of whom more anon) declared that "the reason Jabe +Slocum ketched cold so easy was that, if he didn't hold his head jess +so, it kep' a-rainin' in!" + +His mouth was simply an enormous slit in his face, and served all the +purposes for which a mouth is presumably intended, save, perhaps, the +trivial one of decoration. In short (a ludicrously inappropriate word +for the subject), it was a capital medium for exits and entrances, but +no ornament to his countenance. When Rhapsena Crabb, now deceased, was +first engaged to Jabez Slocum, Aunt Hitty Tarbox said it beat her "how +Rhapseny ever got over Jabe's mouth; though she could 'a' got intew it +easy 'nough, or raound it, if she took plenty o' time." But perhaps +Rhapsena appreciated a mouth (in a husband) that never was given to +"jawin'," and which uttered only kind words during her brief span of +married life. And there was precious little leisure for kissing at +Pleasant River! + +As Jabe had passed the store, a few minutes before, one of the boys had +called out, facetiously, "Shet yer mouth when ye go by the deepot, +Laigs; the train's comin' in!" But he only smiled placidly, though it +was an ancient joke, the flavor of which had just fully penetrated the +rustic skull; and the villagers could not resist titillating the sense +of humor with it once or twice a month. Neither did Jabez mind being +called "Laigs," the local pronunciation of the word "legs;" in fact, +his good humor was too deep to be ruffled. His "cistern of wrathfulness +was so small, and the supply pipe so unready," that it was next to +impossible to "put him out," so the natives said. + +He was a man of tolerable education; the only son of his parents, who +had endeavored to make great things of him, and might perhaps have +succeeded, if he hadn't always had so little time at his +disposal,--hadn't been "so drove," as he expressed it. He went to the +village school as regularly as he couldn't help, that is, as many days +as he couldn't contrive to stay away, until he was fourteen. From there +he was sent to the Academy, three miles distant; but his mother soon +found that he couldn't make the two trips a day and be "under cover by +candlelight;" so the plan of a classical education was abandoned, and he +was allowed to speed the home plough,--a profession which he pursued +with such moderation that his father, when starting him down a furrow, +used to hang his dinner-pail on his arm and, bidding him good-by, beg +him, with tears in his eyes, to be back before sun-down. + +At the present moment Jabe was enjoying a cud of Old Virginia plug +tobacco, and taking in no more of the landscape than he could avoid, +when Maria, having wound up to the top of Marm Berry's hill, in spite of +herself walked directly out on one side of the road, and stopped short +to make room for the passage of an imposing procession, made up of one +straw phaeton, one baby, one strange boy, and one strange dog. + +Jabe eyed the party with some placid interest, for he loved children, +but with no undue excitement. Shifting his huge quid, he inquired in his +usual leisurely manner, "Which way yer goin', bub,--t' the Swamp or t' +the Falls?" + +Timothy thought neither sounded especially inviting, but, rapidly +choosing the lesser evil, replied, "To the Falls, sir." + +"Thy way happens to be my way, 's Rewth said to Naomi; so 'f gittin' +over the road's your objeck, 'n' y' ain't pertickler 'baout the gait ye +travel, ye can git in 'n' ride a piece. We don't b'lieve in hurryin', +Mariar 'n' me. Slow 'n' easy goes fur in a day, 's our motto. Can ye git +your folks aboard withaout spillin' any of 'em?" + +No wonder he asked, for Gay was in such a wild state of excitement that +she could hardly be held. + +"I can lift Gay up, if you'll please take her, sir," said Timothy; "and +if you're quite sure the horse will stand still." + +"Bless your soul, she'll stan' all right; she likes stan'in' a heap +better 'n she doos goin'; runnin' away ain't no temptation to Maria +Cummins; let well enough alone 's her motto. Jump in, sissy! There ye +be! Now git yer baby-shay in the back of the wagon, bubby, 'n' we'll be +'s snug 's a bug in a rug." + +Timothy, whose creed was simple and whose beliefs were crystal clear, +now felt that his morning prayer had been heard, and that the Lord was +on his side; so he abandoned all idea of commanding the situation, and +gave himself up to the full ecstasy of the ride, as they jogged +peacefully along the river road. + +Gay held a piece of a rein that peeped from Jabe's colossal hand (which +was said by the villagers to cover most as much territory as the hand of +Providence), and was convinced that she was driving Maria, an idea that +made her speechless with joy. + +Rags' wildest dreams of squirrels came true; and, reconciled at length +to cleanliness, he was capering in and out of the woods, thinking what +an Arabian Nights' entertainment he would give the Minerva Court dogs +when he returned, if return he ever must to that miserable, squirrelless +hole. + +The meadows on the other side of the river were gorgeous with yellow +buttercups, and here and there a patch of blue iris or wild sage. The +black cherry trees were masses of snowy bloom; the water at the river's +edge held spikes of blue arrowweed in its crystal shallows; while the +roadside itself was gay with daisies and feathery grasses. + +In the midst of this loveliness flowed Pleasant River, + + "Vexed in all its seaward course by bridges, dams, and mills," + +but finding time, during the busy summer months, to flush its fertile +banks with beauty. + +Suddenly (a word that could seldom be truthfully applied to the +description of Jabe Slocum's movements) the reins were ruthlessly drawn +from Lady Gay's hands and wound about the whipstock. + +"Gorry!" ejaculated Mr. Slocum, "ef I hain't left the widder Foss +settin' on Aunt Hitty's hoss-block, 'n' I promised to pick her up when I +come along back! That all comes o' my drivin' by the store so fast on +account o' the boys hectorin' of me, so 't when I got to the turn I was +so kind of het up I jogged right along the straight road. Haste makes +waste 's an awful good motto. Pile out, young ones! It's only half a +mile from here to the Falls, 'n' you'll have to get there on Shank's +mare!" + +So saying, he dumped the astonished children into the middle of the +road, from whence he had plucked them, turned the docile mare, and with +a "Git, Mariar!" went four miles back to relieve Aunt Hitty's +horse-block from the weight of the widder Foss (which was no joke!). + +This turn of affairs was most unexpected, and Gay seemed on the point of +tears; but Timothy gathered her a handful of wild flowers, wiped the +dust from her face, put on the clean blue gingham apron, and established +her in the basket, where she soon fell asleep, wearied by the +excitements of the day. + +Timothy's heart began to be a little troubled as he walked on and on +through the leafy woods, trundling the basket behind him. Nothing had +gone wrong; indeed, everything had been much easier than he could have +hoped. Perhaps it was the weariness that had crept into his legs, and +the hollowness that began to appear in his stomach; but, somehow, +although in the morning he had expected to find Gay's new mothers +beckoning from every window, so that he could scarcely choose between +them, he now felt as if the whole race of mothers had suddenly become +extinct. + +Soon the village came in sight, nestled in the laps of the green hills +on both sides of the river. Timothy trudged bravely on, scanning all the +dwellings, but finding none of them just the thing. At last he turned +deliberately off the main road, where the houses seemed too near +together and too near the street, for his taste, and trundled his family +down a shady sort of avenue, over which the arching elms met and clasped +hands. + +Rags had by this time lowered his tail to half-mast, and kept strictly +to the beaten path, notwithstanding manifold temptations to forsake it. +He passed two cats without a single insulting remark, and his entire +demeanor was eloquent of nostalgia. + +"Oh, dear!" sighed Timothy disconsolately; "there's something wrong with +all the places. Either there's no pigeon-house, like in all the +pictures, or no flower garden, or no chickens, or no lady at the window, +or else there's lots of baby-clothes hanging on the wash-lines. I don't +believe I shall ever find"-- + +At this moment a large, comfortable white house, that had been +heretofore hidden by great trees, came into view. Timothy drew nearer to +the spotless picket fence, and gazed upon the beauties of the side yard +and the front garden,--gazed and gazed, and fell desperately in love at +first sight. + +The whole thing had been made as if to order; that is all there is to +say about it. There was an orchard, and, oh, ecstasy! what hosts of +green apples! There was an interesting grindstone under one tree, and a +bright blue chair and stool under another; a thicket of currant and +gooseberry bushes; and a flock of young turkeys ambling awkwardly +through the barn. Timothy stepped gently along in the thick grass, past +a pump and a mossy trough, till a side porch came into view, with a +woman sitting there sewing bright-colored rags. A row of shining tin +pans caught the sun's rays, and threw them back in a thousand glittering +prisms of light; the grasshoppers and crickets chirped sleepily in the +warm grass, and a score of tiny yellow butterflies hovered over a group +of odorous hollyhocks. + +Suddenly the person on the porch broke into this cheerful song, which +she pitched in so high a key and gave with such emphasis that the +crickets and grasshoppers retired by mutual consent from any further +competition, and the butterflies suspended operations for several +seconds:-- + + "I'll chase the antelope over the plain, + The tiger's cob I'll bind with a chain, + And the wild gazelle with the silv'ry feet + I'll bring to thee for a playmate sweet." + +Timothy listened intently for some moments, but could not understand the +words, unless the lady happened to be in the menagerie business, which +he thought unlikely, but delightful should it prove true. + +His eye then fell on a little marble slab under a tree in a shady corner +of the orchard. + +"That's a country doorplate," he thought; "yes, it's got the lady's +name, 'Martha Cummins,' printed on it. Now I'll know what to call her." + +He crept softly on to the front side of the house. There were flower +beds, a lovable white cat snoozing on the doorsteps, and--a lady sitting +at the open window knitting! + +At this vision Timothy's heart beat so hard against his little jacket +that he could only stagger back to the basket, where Rags and Lady Gay +were snuggled together, fast asleep. He anxiously scanned Gay's face; +moistened his rag of a handkerchief at the only available source of +supply; scrubbed an atrocious dirt spot from the tip of her spirited +nose; and then, dragging the basket along the path leading to the front +gate, he opened it and went in, mounted the steps, plied the brass +knocker, and waited in childlike faith for a summons to enter and make +himself at home. + + + + +SCENE V. + +_The White Farm. Afternoon._ + +TIMOTHY FINDS A HOUSE IN WHICH HE THINKS A BABY IS NEEDED, BUT THE +INMATES DO NOT ENTIRELY AGREE WITH HIM. + + +Meanwhile, Miss Avilda Cummins had left her window and gone into the +next room for a skein of yarn. She answered the knock, however; and, +opening the door, stood rooted to the threshold in speechless +astonishment, very much as if she had seen the shades of her ancestors +drawn up in line in the dooryard. + +Off went Timothy's hat. He hadn't seen the lady's face very clearly when +she was knitting at the window, or he would never have dared to knock; +but it was too late to retreat. Looking straight into her cold eyes with +his own shining gray ones, he said bravely, but with a trembling voice, +"Do you need any babies here, if you please?" (Need any babies! What an +inappropriate, nonsensical expression, to be sure; as if a baby were +something exquisitely indispensable, like the breath of life, for +instance!) + +No answer. Miss Vilda was trying to assume command of her scattered +faculties and find some clue to the situation. Timothy concluded that +she was not, after all, the lady of the house; and, remembering the +marble doorplate in the orchard, tried again. "Does Miss Martha Cummins +live here, if you please?" (Oh, Timothy! what induced you, in this +crucial moment of your life, to touch upon that sorest spot in Miss +Vilda's memory?) + +"What do you want?" she faltered. + +"I want to get somebody to adopt my baby," he said; "if you haven't got +any of your own, you couldn't find one half as dear and as pretty as she +is; and you needn't have me too, you know, unless you should need me to +help take care of her." + +"You're very kind," Miss Avilda answered sarcastically, preparing to +shut the door upon the strange child; "but I don't think I care to adopt +any babies this afternoon, thank you. You'd better run right back home +to your mother, if you've got one, and know where 't is, anyhow." + +"I--haven't!" cried poor Timothy, with a sudden and unpremeditated burst +of tears at the failure of his hopes; for he was half child as well as +half hero. At this juncture Gay opened her eyes, and burst into a wild +howl at the unwonted sight of Timothy's grief; and Rags, who was full of +exquisite sensibility, and quite ready to weep with those who did weep, +lifted up his woolly head and added his piteous wails to the concert. It +was a _tableau vivant_. + +"Samanthy Ann!" called Miss Vilda excitedly; "Samanthy Ann! Come right +here and tell me what to do!" + +The person thus adjured flew in from the porch, leaving a serpentine +trail of red, yellow, and blue rags in her wake. "Land o' liberty!" she +exclaimed, as she surveyed the group. "Where'd they come from, and what +air they tryin' to act out?" + +"This boy's a baby agent, as near as I can make out; he wants I should +adopt this red-headed baby, but says I ain't obliged to take him too, +and makes out they haven't got any home. I told him I wa'n't adoptin' +any babies just now, and at that he burst out cryin', and the other two +followed suit. Now, have the three of 'em just escaped from some +asylum, or are they too little to be lunatics?" + +Timothy dried his tears, in order that Gay should be comforted and +appear at her best, and said penitently: "I cried before I thought, +because Gay hasn't had anything but cookies since last night, and she'll +have no place to sleep unless you'll let us stay here just till morning. +We went by all the other houses, and chose this one because everything +was so beautiful." + +"Nothin' but cookies sence--Land o' liberty!" ejaculated Samantha Ann, +starting for the kitchen. + +"Come back here, Samanthy! Don't you leave me alone with 'em, and don't +let's have all the neighbors runnin' in; you take 'em into the kitchen +and give 'em somethin' to eat, and we'll see about the rest afterwards." + +Gay kindled at the first casual mention of food; and, trying to clamber +out of the basket, fell over the edge, thumping her head smartly on the +stone steps. Miss Vilda covered her face with her hands, and waited +shudderingly for another yell, as the child's carnation stocking and +terra-cotta head mingled wildly in the air. But Lady Gay disentangled +herself, and laughed the merriest burst of laughter that ever woke the +echoes. That was a joke; her life was full of them, served fresh every +day; for no sort of adversity could long have power over such a nature +as hers. "Come get supper," she cooed, putting her hand in Samantha's; +adding that the "nasty lady needn't come," a remark that happily escaped +detection, as it was rendered in very unintelligible "early English." + +Miss Avilda tottered into the darkened sitting-room and sank on to a +black haircloth sofa, while Samantha ushered the wanderers into the +sunny kitchen, muttering to herself: "Wall, I vow! travelin' over the +country all alone, 'n' not knee-high to a toad! They're send in' out +awful young tramps this season, but they sha'n't go away hungry, if I +know it." + +Accordingly, she set out a plentiful supply of bread and butter, +gingerbread, pie, and milk, put a tin plate of cold hash in the shed for +Rags, and swept him out to it with a corn broom; and, telling the +children comfortably to cram their "everlastin' little bread-baskets +full," returned to the sitting-room. + +"Now, whatever makes you so panicky, Vildy? Didn't you never see a tramp +before, for pity's sake? And if you're scar't for fear I can't handle +'em alone, why, Jabe 'll be comin' along soon. The prospeck of gittin' +to bed's the only thing that'll make him 'n' Maria hurry; 'n' they'll +both be cal'latin' on that by this time!" + +"Samanthy Ann, the first question that that boy asked me was, 'If Miss +Martha Cummins lived here.' Now, what do you make of that?" + +Samantha looked as astonished as anybody could wish. "Asked if Marthy +Cummins lived here? How under the canopy did he ever hear Marthy's name? +Wall, somebody told him to ask, that's all there is about it; and what +harm was there in it, anyhow?" + +"Oh, I don't know, I don't know; but the minute that boy looked up at me +and asked for Martha Cummins, the old trouble, that I thought was dead +and buried years ago, started right up in my heart and begun to ache +just as if it all happened yesterday." + +"Now keep stiddy, Vildy; what could happen?" urged Samantha. + +"Why, it flashed across my mind in a minute," and here Miss Vilda +lowered her voice to a whisper, "that perhaps Martha's baby didn't die, +as they told her." + +"But, land o' liberty, s'posin' it didn't! Poor Marthy died herself more +'n twenty years ago." + +"I know; but supposing her baby didn't die; and supposing it grew up and +died, and left this little girl to roam round the world afoot and +alone?" + +"You're cal'latin' dreadful close, 'pears to me; now, don't go s'posin' +any more things. You're makin' out one of them yellow-covered books, +sech as the summer boarders bring out here to read; always chock full of +doin's that never would come to pass in this or any other Christian +country. You jest lay down and snuff your camphire, an' I'll go out an' +pump that boy drier 'n a sand heap!" + + +Now, Miss Avilda Cummins was unmarried by every implication of her +being, as Henry James would say: but Samantha Ann Ripley was a spinster +purely by accident. She had seldom been exposed to the witcheries of +children, or she would have known long before this that, so far as she +was personally concerned, they would always prove irresistible. She +marched into the kitchen like a general resolved upon the extinction of +the enemy. She walked out again, half an hour later, with the very teeth +of her resolve drawn, but so painlessly that she had not been aware of +the operation! She marched in a woman of a single purpose; she came out +a double-faced diplomatist, with the seeds of sedition and conspiracy +lurking, all unsuspected, in her heart. + +The cause? Nothing more than a dozen trifles as "light as air." Timothy +had sat upon a little wooden stool at her feet; and, resting his arms on +her knees, had looked up into her kind, rosy face with a pair of liquid +eyes like gray-blue lakes, eyes which seemed and were the very windows +of his soul. He had sat there telling his wee bit of a story; just a +vague, shadowy, plaintive, uncomplaining scrap of a story, without +beginning, plot, or ending, but every word in it set Samantha Ann +Ripley's heart throbbing. + +And Gay, who knew a good thing when she saw it, had climbed up into her +capacious lap, and, not being denied, had cuddled her head into that +"gracious hollow" in Samantha's shoulder, that had somehow missed the +pressure of the childish heads that should have lain there. Then +Samantha's arm had finally crept round the wheedlesome bit of soft +humanity, and before she knew it her chair was swaying gently to and +fro, to and fro, to and fro; and the wooden rockers creaked more sweetly +than ever they had creaked before, for they were singing their first +cradle song! + +Then Gay heaved a great sigh of unspeakable satisfaction, and closed her +lovely eyes. She had been born with a desire to be cuddled, and had had +precious little experience of it. At the sound of this happy sigh and +the sight of the child's flower face, with the upward curling lashes on +the pink cheeks and the moist tendrils of hair on the white forehead, +and the helpless, clinging touch of the baby arm about her neck, I +cannot tell you the why or wherefore, but old memories and new desires +began to stir in Samantha Ann Ripley's heart. In short, she had met the +enemy, and she was theirs! + +Presently Gay was laid upon the old-fashioned settle, and Samantha +stationed herself where she could keep the flies off her by waving a +palm-leaf fan. + +"Now, there's one thing more I want you to tell me," said she, after she +had possessed herself of Timothy's unhappy past, uncertain present, and +still more dubious future; "and that is, what made you ask for Miss +Marthy Cummins when you come to the door?" + +"Why, I thought it was the lady-of-the-house's name," said Timothy; "I +saw it on her doorplate." + +"But we ain't got any doorplate, to begin with." + +"Not a silver one on your door, like they have in the city; but isn't +that white marble piece in the yard a doorplate? It's got 'Martha +Cummins, aged 17,' on it. I thought may be in the country they had them +in their gardens; only I thought it was queer they put their ages on +them, because they'd have to be scratched out every little while, +wouldn't they?" + +"My grief!" ejaculated Samantha; "for pity's sake, don't you know a +tombstun when you see it?" + +"No; what is a tombstun?" + +"Land sakes! what do you know, any way? Didn't you never see a graveyard +where folks is buried?" + +"I never went to the graveyard, but I know where it is, and I know +about people's being buried. Flossy is going to be buried. And so the +white stone shows the places where the people are put, and tells their +names, does it? Why, it is a kind of a doorplate, after all, don't you +see? Who is Martha Cummins, aged 17?" + +"She was Miss Vildy's sister, and she went to the city, and then come +home and died here, long years ago. Miss Vildy set great store by her, +and can't bear to have her name spoke; so remember what I say. Now, this +'Flossy' you tell me about (of all the fool names I ever hearn tell of, +that beats all,--sounds like a wax doll, with her clo'se sewed on!), was +she a young woman?" + +"I don't know whether she was young or not," said Tim, in a puzzled +tone. "She had young yellow hair, and very young shiny teeth, white as +china; but her neck was crackled underneath, like Miss Vilda's;--it had +no kissing places in it like Gay's." + +"Well, you stay here in the kitchen a spell now, 'n' don't let in that +rag-dog o' yourn till he stops scratching if he keeps it up till the +crack o' doom;--he's got to be learned better manners. Now, I'll go in +'n' talk to Miss Vildy. She may keep you over night, 'n' she may not; I +ain't noways sure. You started in wrong foot foremost." + + + + +SCENE VI. + +_The White Farm. Evening._ + +TIMOTHY, LADY GAY, AND RAGS PROVE FAITHFUL TO EACH OTHER. + + +Samantha went into the sitting-room and told the whole story to Miss +Avilda; told it simply and plainly, for she was not given to arabesques +in language, and then waited for a response. + +"Well, what do you advise doin'?" asked Miss Cummins nervously. + +"I don't feel comp'tent to advise, Vilda; the house ain't mine, nor yet +the beds that's in it, nor the victuals in the butt'ry; but as a +professin' Christian and member of the Orthodox Church in good and +reg'lar standin' you can't turn 'em ou'doors when it's comin' on dark +and they ain't got no place to sleep." + +"Plenty of good Orthodox folks turned their backs on Martha when she was +in trouble." + +"There may be Orthodox hogs, for all I know," replied the blunt +Samantha, who frequently called spades shovels in her search after +absolute truth of statement, "but that ain't no reason why we should +copy after 'em 's I know of." + +"I don't propose to take in two strange children and saddle myself with +'em for days, or weeks, perhaps," said Miss Cummins coldly, "but I tell +you what I will do. Supposing we send the boy over to Squire Bean's. +It's near hayin' time, and he may take him in to help round and do +chores. Then we'll tell him before he goes that we'll keep the baby as +long as he gets a chance to work anywheres near. That will give us a +chance to look round for some place for 'em and find out whether they've +told us the truth." + +"And if Squire Bean won't take him?" asked Samantha, with as much cold +indifference as she could assume. + +"Well, I suppose there's nothing for it but he must come back here and +sleep. I'll go out and tell him so,--I declare I feel as weak as if I'd +had a spell of sickness!" + +Timothy bore the news better than Samantha had feared. Squire Bean's +farm did not look so very far away; his heart was at rest about Gay and +he felt that he could find a shelter for himself somewhere. + +"Now, how'll the baby act when she wakes up and finds you're gone?" +inquired Miss Vilda anxiously, as Timothy took his hat and bent down to +kiss the sleeping child. + +"Well, I don't know exactly," answered Timothy, "because she's always +had me, you see. But I guess she'll be all right, now that she knows you +a little, and if I can see her every day. She never cries except once in +a long while when she gets mad; and if you're careful how you behave, +she'll hardly ever get mad at you." + +"Well I vow!" exclaimed Miss Vilda with a grim glance at Samantha, "I +guess she'd better do the behavin'." + +So Timothy was shown the way across the fields to Squire Bean's. +Samantha accompanied him to the back gate, where she gave him three +doughnuts and a sneaking kiss, watching him out of sight under the +pretense of taking the towels and napkins off the grass. + + +It was nearly nine o'clock and quite dark when Timothy stole again to +the little gate of the White Farm. The feet that had traveled so +courageously over the mile walk to Squire Bean's had come back again +slowly and wearily; for it is one thing to be shod with the sandals of +hope, and quite another to tread upon the leaden soles of +disappointment. + +He leaned upon the white picket gate listening to the chirp of the frogs +and looking at the fireflies as they hung their gleaming lamps here and +there in the tall grass. Then he crept round to the side door, to +implore the kind offices of the mediator before he entered the presence +of the judge whom he assumed to be sitting in awful state somewhere in +the front part of the house. He lifted the latch noiselessly and +entered. Oh horror! Miss Avilda herself was sprinkling clothes at the +great table on one side of the room. There was a moment of silence. + +"He wouldn't have me," said Timothy simply, "he said I wasn't big enough +yet. I offered him Gay, too, but he didn't want her either, and if you +please, I would rather sleep on the sofa so as not to be any more +trouble." + +"You won't do any such thing," responded Miss Vilda briskly. "You've +got a royal welcome this time sure, and I guess you can earn your +lodging fast enough. You hear that?" and she opened the door that led +into the upper part of the house. + +A piercing shriek floated down into the kitchen, and another on the +heels of that, and then another. Every drop of blood in Timothy's spare +body rushed to his pale grave face. "Is she being whipped?" he +whispered, with set lips. + +"No; she needs it bad enough, but we ain't savages. She's only got the +pretty temper that matches her hair, just as you said. I guess we +haven't been behavin' to suit her." + +"Can I go up? She'll stop in a minute when she sees me. She never went +to bed without me before, and truly, truly, she's not a cross baby!" + +"Come right along and welcome; just so long as she has to stay you're +invited to visit with her. Land sakes! the neighbors will think we're +killin' pigs!" and Miss Vilda started upstairs to show Timothy the way. + +Gay was sitting up in bed and the faithful Samantha Ann was seated +beside her with a lapful of useless bribes,--apples, seed-cakes, an +illustrated Bible, a thermometer, an ear of red corn, and a large +stuffed green bird, the glory of the "keeping room" mantelpiece. + +But a whole aviary of highly colored songsters would not have assuaged +Gay's woe at that moment. Every effort at conciliation was met with the +one plaint: "I want my Timfy! I want my Timfy!" + +At the first sight of the beloved form, Gay flung the sacred bird into +the furthest corner of the room and burst into a wild sob of delight, as +she threw herself into Timothy's loving arms. + +Fifteen minutes later peace had descended on the troubled homestead, and +Samantha went into the sitting-room and threw herself into the depths of +the high-backed rocker. "Land o' liberty! perhaps I ain't het-up!" she +ejaculated, as she wiped the sweat of honest toil from her brow and +fanned herself vigorously with her apron. "I tell you what, at five +o'clock I was dreadful sorry I hadn't took Dave Milliken, but now I'm +plaguey glad I didn't! Still" (and here she tried to smooth the green +bird's ruffled plumage and restore him to his perch under the revered +glass case), "still, children will be children." + +"Some of 'em's considerable more like wild cats," said Miss Avilda +briefly. + +"You just go upstairs now, and see if you find anything that looks like +wild cats; but 't any rate, wild cats or tame cats, we would n't dass +turn 'em ou'doors this time o' night for fear of flyin' in the face of +Providence. If it's a stint He's set us, I don't see but we've got to +work it out somehow." + +"I'd rather have some other stint." + +"To be sure!" retorted Samantha vigorously. "I never see anybody yet +that didn't want to pick out her own stint; but mebbe if we got just the +one we wanted it wouldn't be no stint! Land o' liberty, what's that!" + +There was a crash of falling tin pans, and Samantha flew to investigate +the cause. About ten minutes later she returned, more heated than ever, +and threw herself for the second time into the high-backed rocker. + +"That dog's been givin' me a chase, I can tell you! He clawed and +scratched so in the shed that I put him in the wood-house; and he went +and clim' up on that carpenter's bench, and pitched out that little +winder at the top, and fell on to the milk-pan shelf and scattered every +last one of 'em, and then upsot all my cans of termatter plants. But I +couldn't find him, high nor low. All to once I see by the dirt on the +floor that he'd squirmed himself through the skeeter-nettin' door int' +the house, and then I surmised where he was. Sure enough, I crep' +upstairs and there he was, layin' between the two children as snug as +you please. He was snorin' like a pirate when I found him, but when I +stood over the bed with a candle I could see 't his wicked little eyes +was wide open, and he was jest makin' b'lieve sleep in hopes I'd leave +him where he was. Well, I yanked him out quicker 'n scat, 'n' locked him +in the old chicken house, so I guess he'll stay out, now. For folks that +claim to be no blood relation, I declare him 'n' the boy 'n' the baby +beats anything I ever come across for bein' fond of one 'nother!" + +There were dreams at the White Farm that night. Timothy went to sleep +with a prayer on his lips; a prayer that God would excuse him for +speaking of Martha's doorplate, and a most imploring postscript to the +effect that God would please make Miss Vilda into a mother for Gay; +thinking as he floated off into the land of Nod, "It'll be awful hard +work, but I don't suppose He cares how hard 't is!" + +Lady Gay dreamed of driving beautiful white horses beside sparkling +waters ... and through flowery meadows ... And great green birds perched +on all the trees and flew towards her as if to peck the cherries of her +lips ... but when she tried to beat them off they all turned into +Timothys and she hugged them close to her heart ... + +Rags' visions were gloomy, for he knew not whether the Lady with the +Firm Hand would free him from his prison in the morning, or whether he +was there for all time ... But there were intervals of bliss when his +fancies took a brighter turn ... when Hope smiled ... and he bit the +white cat's tail ... and chased the infant turkeys ... and found sweet, +juicy, delicious bones in unexpected places ... and even inhaled, in +exquisite anticipation, the fragrance of one particularly succulent bone +that he had hidden under Miss Vilda's bed. + +Sleep carried Samantha so many years back into the past that she heard +the blithe din of carpenters hammering and sawing on a little house +that was to be hers, his, _theirs_. ... And as she watched them, with +all sorts of maidenly hopes about the home that was to be ... some one +stole up behind and caught her at it, and she ran away blushing ... and +some one followed her ... and they watched the carpenters together. ... +Somebody else lived in the little house now, and Samantha never blushed +any more, but that part was mercifully hidden in the dream. + +Miss Vilda's slumber was troubled. She seemed to be walking through +peaceful meadows, brown with autumn, when all at once there rose in the +path steep hills and rocky mountains ... She felt too tired and too old +to climb, but there was nothing else to be done ... And just as she +began the toilsome ascent, a little child appeared, and catching her +helplessly by the skirts implored to be taken with her ... And she +refused and went on alone ... but, miracle of miracles, when she reached +the crest of the first hill the child was there before her, still +beseeching to be carried ... And again she refused, and again she +wearily climbed the heights alone, always meeting the child when she +reached their summits, and always enacting the same scene.... At last +she cried in despair, "Ask me no more, for I have not even strength +enough for my own needs!" ... And the child said, "I will help you;" and +straightway crept into her arms and nestled there as one who would not +be denied ... and she took up her burden and walked.... And as she +climbed the weight grew lighter and lighter, till at length the clinging +arms seemed to give her peace and strength ... and when she neared the +crest of the highest mountain she felt new life throbbing in her veins +and new hopes stirring in her heart, and she remembered no more the pain +and weariness of her journey.... And all at once a bright angel appeared +to her and traced the letters of a word upon her forehead and took the +child from her arms and disappeared.... And the angel had the lovely +smile and sad eyes of Martha ... and the word she traced on Miss Vilda's +forehead was "Inasmuch"! + + + + +SCENE VII. + +_The Old Homestead._ + +MISTRESS AND MAID FIND TO THEIR AMAZEMENT THAT A CHILD, MORE THAN ALL +OTHER GIFTS, BRINGS HOPE WITH IT AND FORWARD LOOKING THOUGHTS. + + +It was called the White Farm, not because that was an unusual color in +Pleasant River. Nineteen out of every twenty houses in the village were +painted white, for it had not then entered the casual mind that any +other course was desirable or possible. Occasionally, a man of riotous +imagination would substitute two shades of buff, or make the back of his +barn red, but the spirit of invention stopped there, and the majority of +sane people went on painting white. But Miss Avilda Cummins was blessed +with a larger income than most of the inhabitants of Pleasant River, and +all her buildings, the great house, the sheds, the carriage and dairy +houses, the fences and the barn, were always kept in a state of dazzling +purity; "as if," the neighbors declared, "S'manthy Ann Ripley went over +'em every morning with a dust-cloth." + +It was merely an accident that the carriage and work horses chanced to +be white, and that the original white cats of the family kept on having +white kittens to decorate the front doorsteps. It was not accident, +however, but design, that caused Jabe Slocum to scour the country for a +good white cow and persuade Miss Cummins to swap off the old red one, so +that the "critters" in the barn should match. + +Miss Avilda had been born at the White Farm; father and mother had been +taken from there to the old country churchyard, and "Martha, aged 17," +poor, pretty, willful Martha, the greatest pride and greatest sorrow of +the family, was lying under the apple trees in the garden. + +Here also the little Samantha Ann Ripley had come as a child years ago, +to be playmate, nurse, and companion to Martha, and here she had stayed +ever since, as friend, adviser, and "company-keeper" to the lonely Miss +Cummins. Nobody in Pleasant River would have dared to think of her as +anybody's "hired help," though she did receive bed and board, and a +certain sum yearly for her services; but she lived with Miss Cummins on +equal terms, as was the custom in the good old New England villages, +doing the lion's share of the work, and marking her sense of the +situation by washing the dishes while Miss Avilda wiped them, and by +never suffering her to feed the pig or go down cellar. + +Theirs had been a dull sort of life, in which little had happened to +make them grow into sympathy with the outside world. All the sweetness +of Miss Avilda's nature had turned to bitterness and gall after Martha's +disgrace, sad home-coming, and death. There had been much to forgive, +and she had not had the grace nor the strength to forgive it until it +was too late. The mystery of death had unsealed her eyes, and there had +been a moment when the sad and bitter woman might have been drawn closer +to the great Father-heart, there to feel the throb of a Divine +compassion that would have sweetened the trial and made the burden +lighter. But the minister of the parish proved a sorry comforter and +adviser in these hours of trial. The Reverend Joshua Beckwith, whose +view of God's universe was about as broad as if he had lived on the +inside of his own pork-barrel, had cherished certain strong and +unrelenting opinions concerning Martha's final destination, which were +not shared by Miss Cummins. Martha, therefore, was not laid with the +elect, but was put to rest in the orchard, under the kindly, +untheological shade of the apple trees; and they scattered their tinted +blossoms over her little white headstone, shed their fragrance about her +quiet grave, and dropped their ruddy fruit in the high grass that +covered it, just as tenderly and respectfully as if they had been +regulation willows. The Reverend Joshua thus succeeded in drying up the +springs of human sympathy in Miss Avilda's heart when most she needed +comfort and gentle teaching; and, distrusting God for the moment, as +well as his inexorable priest, she left her place in the old +meeting-house where she had "worshiped" ever since she had acquired +adhesiveness enough to stick to a pew, and was not seen there again for +many years. The Reverend Joshua had died, as all men must and as most +men should; and a mild-voiced successor reigned in his place; so the +Cummins pew was occupied once more. + +Samantha Ann Ripley had had her heart history too,--one of a different +kind. She had "kept company" with David Milliken for a little matter of +twenty years, off and on, and Miss Avilda had expected at various times +to lose her friend and helpmate; but fear of this calamity had at length +been quite put to rest by the fourth and final rupture of the bond, five +years before. + +There had always been a family feud between the Ripleys and the +Millikens; and when the young people took it into their heads to fall in +love with each other in spite of precedent or prejudice, they found that +the course of true love ran in anything but a smooth channel. It was, in +fact, a sort of village Montague and Capulet affair; but David and +Samantha were no Romeo and Juliet. The climate and general conditions of +life at Pleasant River were not favorable to the development of such +exotics. The old people interposed barriers between the young ones as +long as they lived; and when they died, Dave Milliken's spirit was +broken, and he began to annoy the valiant Samantha by what she called +his "meechin'" ways. In one of his moments of weakness he took a widowed +sister to live with him, a certain Mrs. Pettigrove, of Edgewood, who +inherited the Milliken objection to Ripleys, and who widened the breach +and brought Samantha to the point of final and decisive rupture. The +last straw was the statement, sown broadcast by Mrs. Pettigrove, that +"Samanthy Ann Ripley's father never would 'a' died if he'd ever had any +doctorin'; but 't was the gospel truth that they never had nobody to +'tend him but a hom'pathy man from Scratch Corner, who, of course, bein' +a hom'path, didn't know no more about doctorin' 'n Cooper's cow." + +Samantha told David after this that she didn't want to hear him open his +mouth again, nor none of his folks; that she was through with the whole +lot of 'em forever and ever, 'n' she wished to the Lord she'd had sense +enough to put her foot down fifteen years ago, 'n' she hoped he'd enjoy +bein' tread underfoot for the rest of his natural life, 'n' she wouldn't +speak to him again if she met him in her porridge dish. She then +slammed the door and went upstairs to cry as if she were sixteen, as she +watched him out of sight. Poor Dave Milliken! just sweet and earnest and +strong enough to suffer at being worsted by circumstances, but never +quite strong enough to conquer them. + +And it was to this household that Timothy had brought his child for +adoption. + + +When Miss Avilda opened her eyes, the morning after the arrival of the +children, she tried to remember whether anything had happened to give +her such a strange feeling of altered conditions. It was +Saturday,--baking day,--that couldn't be it; and she gazed at the little +dimity-curtained window and at the picture of the Death-bed of Calvin, +and wondered what was the matter. + +Just then a child's laugh, bright, merry, tuneful, infectious, rang out +from some distant room, and it all came back to her as Samantha Ann +opened the door and peered in. + +"I've got breakfast 'bout ready," she said; "but I wish, soon 's you're +dressed, you'd step down 'n' see to it, 'n' let me wash the baby. I +guess water was skerse where she come from!" + +"They're awake, are they?" + +"Awake? Land o' liberty! As soon as 't was light, and before the boy had +opened his eyes, Gay was up 'n' poundin' on all the doors, 'n' +hollorin' 'S'manfy' (beats all how she got holt o' my name so quick!), +so 't I thought sure she'd disturb your sleep. See here, Vildy, we want +those children should look respectable the few days they're here. I +don't see how we can rig out the boy, but there's those old things of +Marthy's in the attic; seems like it might be a blessin' on 'em if we +used 'em this way." + +"I thought of it myself in the night," answered Vilda briefly. "You'll +find the key of the trunk in the light stand drawer. You see to the +children, and I'll get breakfast on the table. Has Jabe come?" + +"No; he sent a boy to milk, 'n' said he'd be right along. You know what +that means!" + +Miss Vilda moved about the immaculate kitchen, frying potatoes and +making tea, setting on extra portions of bread and doughnuts and a huge +pitcher of milk; while various noises, strange enough in that quiet +house, floated down from above. + +"This is dreadful hard on Samanthy," she reflected. "I don't know 's I'd +ought to have put it on her, knowing how she hates confusion and +company, and all that; but she seemed to think we'd got to tough it out +for a spell, any way; though I don't expect her temper 'll stand the +strain very long." + +The fact was, Samantha was banging doors and slatting tin pails about +furiously to keep up an ostentatious show of ill humor. She tried her +best to grunt with displeasure when Gay, seated in a wash-tub, crowed +and beat the water with her dimpled hands, so that it splashed all over +the carpet; but all the time there was such a joy tugging at her +heart-strings as they had not felt for years. + +When the bath was over, clean petticoats and ankle-ties were chosen out +of the old leather trunk, and finally a little blue and white lawn +dress. It was too long in the skirt, and pending the moment when +Samantha should "take a tack in it," it anticipated the present fashion, +and made Lady Gay look more like a disguised princess than ever. The +gown was low-necked and short-sleeved, in the old style; and Samantha +was in despair till she found some little embroidered muslin capes and +full undersleeves, with which she covered Gay's pink neck and arms. +These things of beauty so wrought upon the child's excitable nature that +she could hardly keep still long enough to have her hair curled; and +Samantha, as the shining rings dropped off her horny forefinger, was +wrestling with the Evil One, in the shape of a little box of jewelry +that she had found with the clothing. She knew that the wish was a +vicious one, and that such gewgaws were out of place on a little pauper +just taken in for the night; but her fingers trembled with a desire to +fasten the little gold ears of corn on the shoulders, or tie the strings +of coral beads round the child's pretty throat. + +When the toilet was completed, and Samantha was emptying the tub, Gay +climbed on the bureau and imprinted sloppy kisses of sincere admiration +on the radiant reflection of herself in the little looking-glass; then, +getting down again, she seized her heap of Minerva Court clothes, and, +before the astonished Samantha could interpose, flung them out of the +second-story window, where they fell on the top of the lilac bushes. + +"Me doesn't like nasty old dress," she explained, with a dazzling smile +that was a justification in itself; "me likes pretty new dress!" and +then, with one hand reaching up to the door-knob, and the other +throwing disarming kisses to Samantha,--"By-by! Lady Gay go circus now! +Timfy, come, take Lady Gay to circus!" + +There was no time for discipline then, and she was borne to the +breakfast-table, where Timothy was already making acquaintance with Miss +Vilda. + +Samantha entered, and Vilda, glancing at her nervously, perceived with +relief that she was "taking things easy." Ah! but it was lucky for poor +David Milliken that he couldn't see her at that moment. Her whole face +had relaxed; her mouth was no longer a thin, hard line, but had a +certain curve and fullness, borrowed perhaps from the warmth of innocent +baby-kisses. Embarrassment and stifled joy had brought a rosier color to +her cheek; Gay's vandal hand had ruffled the smoothness of her sandy +locks, so that a few stray hairs were absolutely curling with amazement +that they had escaped from their sleek bondage; in a word, Samantha Ann +Ripley was lovely and lovable! + +Timothy had no eyes for any one save his beloved Gay, at whom he gazed +with unspeakable admiration, thinking it impossible that any human +being, with a single eye in its head, could refuse to take such an angel +when it was in the market. + +Gay, not being used to a regular morning toilet, had fought against it +valiantly at first; but the tonic of the bath itself and the exercise of +war had brought the color to her cheeks and the brightness to her eyes. +She had forgiven Samantha, she was ready to be on good terms with Miss +Vilda, she was at peace with all the world. That she was eating the +bread of dependence did not trouble her in the least! No royal visitor, +conveying honor by her mere presence, could have carried off a delicate +situation with more distinguished grace and ease. She was perched on a +Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, and immediately began blowing bubbles +in her mug of milk in the most reprehensible fashion; and glancing up +after each naughty effort with an irrepressible gurgle of laughter, in +which she looked so bewitching, even with a milky crescent over her red +mouth, that she would have melted the heart of the most predestinate old +misogynist in Christendom. + +Timothy was not so entirely at his ease. His eyes had looked into life +only a few more summers, but their "radiant morning visions" had been +dispelled; experience had tempered joy. Gay, however, had not arrived at +an age where people's motives can be suspected for an instant. If there +had been any possible plummet with which to sound the depths of her +unconscious philosophy, she apparently looked upon herself as a guest +out of heaven, flung down upon this hospitable planet with the single +responsibility of enjoying its treasures. + +O happy heart of childhood! Your simple creed is rich in faith, and +trust, and hope. You have not learned that the children of a common +Father can do aught but love and help each other. + + + + +SCENE VIII. + +_The Old Garden._ + +JABE AND SAMANTHA EXCHANGE HOSTILITIES, AND THE FORMER SAYS A GOOD WORD +FOR THE LITTLE WANDERERS. + + +"God Almighty first planted a garden, and it is indeed the purest of all +human pleasures," said Lord Bacon, and Miss Vilda would have agreed with +him. Her garden was not simply the purest of all her pleasures, it was +her only one; and the love that other people gave to family, friends, or +kindred she lavished on her posies. + +It was a dear, old-fashioned, odorous garden, where Dame Nature had +never been forced but only assisted to do her duty. Miss Vilda sowed her +seeds in the springtime wherever there chanced to be room, and they came +up and flourished and went to seed just as they liked, those being the +only duties required of them. Two splendid groups of fringed "pinies," +the pride of Miss Avilda's heart, grew just inside the gate, and hard +by the handsomest dahlias in the village, quilled beauties like carved +rosettes of gold and coral and ivory. There was plenty of feathery +"sparrowgrass," so handy to fill the black and yawning chasms of summer +fireplaces and furnish green for "boquets." There was a stray peach or +greengage tree here and there, and if a plain, well-meaning carrot +chanced to lift its leaves among the poppies, why, they were all the +children of the same mother, and Miss Vilda was not the woman to root +out the invader and fling it into the ditch. There was a bed of yellow +tomatoes, where, in the season, a hundred tiny golden balls hung among +the green leaves; and just beside them, in friendly equality, a tangle +of pink sweet-williams, fragrant phlox, delicate bride's-tears, +canterbury bells blue as the June sky, none-so-pretties, gay cockscombs, +and flaunting marigolds, which would insist on coming up all together, +summer after summer, regardless of color harmonies. Last, but not least, +there was a patch of sweet peas, + + "on tiptoe for a flight, + With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white." + +These dispensed their sweet odors so generously that it was a favorite +diversion among the village children to stand in rows outside the fence, +and, elevating their bucolic noses, simultaneously "sniff Miss Cummins' +peas." The garden was large enough to have little hills and dales of its +own, and its banks sloped gently down to the river. There was a gnarled +apple tree hidden by a luxuriant wild grapevine, a fit bower for a +"lov'd Celia" or a "fair Rosamond." There was a spring, whose crystal +waters were "cabined, cribbed, confined" within a barrel sunk in the +earth; a brook singing its way among the alder bushes, and dripping here +and there into pools, over which the blue harebells leaned to see +themselves. There was a summer-house, too, on the brink of the hill; a +weather-stained affair, with a hundred names carved on its venerable +lattices,--names of youths and maidens who had stood there in the +moonlight and plighted rustic vows. + +If you care to feel a warm glow in the region of your heart, imagine +little Timothy Jessup sent to play in that garden,--sent to play for +almost the first time in his life! Imagine it, I ask, for there are some +things too sweet to prick with a pen-point. Timothy stayed there +fifteen minutes, and running back to the house in a state of intoxicated +delight went up to Samantha, and laying an insistent hand on hers said +excitedly, "Oh, Samanthy, you didn't tell me--there is shining water +down in the garden; not so big as the ocean, nor so still as the harbor, +but a kind of baby river running along by itself with the sweetest +noise. Please, Miss Vilda, may I take Gay to see it, and will it hurt it +if I wash Rags in it?" + +"Let 'em all go," suggested Samantha; "there's Jabe dawdlin' along the +road, and they might as well be out from under foot." + +"Don't be too hard on Jabe this morning, Samanthy,--he's been to see the +Baptist minister at Edgewood; you know he's going to be baptized some +time next month." + +"Well, he needs it! But land sakes! you couldn't make them Slocums pious +'f you kep' on baptizin' of 'em till the crack o' doom. I never hearn +tell of a Slocum's gittin' baptized in July. They allers take 'em after +the freshets in the spring o' the year, 'n' then they have to be +turrible careful to douse 'em lengthways of the river. Look at him, will +ye? I b'lieve he's grown sence yesterday! If he'd ever stood stiff on +his feet when he was a boy, he needn't 'a' been so everlastin' tall; but +he was forever roostin' on fences' with his laigs danglin', 'n' the heft +of his feet stretched 'em out,--it couldn't do no dif'rent. I ain't got +no patience with him." + +"Jabe has considerable many good points," said Miss Cummins loyally; +"he's faithful,--you always know where to find him." + +"Good reason why," retorted Samantha. "You always know where to find him +'cause he gen'ally hain't moved sence you seen him last. Gittin' +religion ain't goin' to help him much. If he ever hears tell 'bout the +gate of heaven bein' open 't the last day, he won't 'a' begun to begin +thinkin' 'bout gittin' in tell he hears the door shet in his face; 'n' +then he'll set ri' down's comf'table's if he was inside, 'n' say, 'Wall, +better luck next time: slow an' sure 's my motto!' Good-mornin', +Jabe,--had your dinner?" + +"I ain't even hed my breakfast," responded Mr. Slocum easily. + +"Blessed are the lazy folks, for they always git their chores done for +'em," remarked Samantha scathingly, as she went to the buttery for +provisions. + +"Wall," said Laigs, looking at her with his most irritating smile, as he +sat down at the kitchen table, "I don't find I git thru any more work by +tumblin' out o' bed 't sun-up 'n I dew 'f I lay a spell 'n' let the +univarse git het up 'n' runnin' a leetle mite. 'Slow 'n' easy goes fur +in a day' 's my motto. Rhapseny, she used to say she should think I'd be +ashamed to lay abed so late. 'Wall, I be,' s' I, 'but I'd ruther be +ashamed 'n git up!' But you're an awful good cook, Samanthy, if ye air +allers in a hurry, 'n' if yer hev got a sharp tongue!" + +"The less you say 'bout my tongue the better!" snapped Samantha. + +"Right you are," answered Jabe with a good-natured grin, as he went on +with his breakfast. He had a huge appetite, another grievance in +Samantha's eyes. She always said "there was no need of his being so +slab-sided 'n' slack-twisted 'n' knuckle-jointed,--that he eat enough in +all conscience, but he wouldn't take the trouble to find the victuals +that would fat him up 'n' fill out his bag o' bones." + +Just as Samantha's well-cooked viands began to disappear in Jabe's +capacious mouth (he always ate precisely as if he were stoking an +engine) his eye rested upon a strange object by the wood-box, and he put +down his knife and ejaculated, "Well, I swan! Now when 'n' where'd I see +that baby-shay? Why, 't was yesterday. Well, I vow, them young ones was +comin' here, was they?" + +"What young ones?" asked Miss Vilda, exchanging astonished glances with +Samantha. + +"And don't begin at the book o' Genesis 'n' go clean through the Bible, +'s you gen'ally do. Start right in on Revelations, where you belong," +put in Samantha; for to see a man unexpectedly loaded to the muzzle with +news, and too lazy to fire it off, was enough to try the patience of a +saint; and even David Milliken would hardly have applied that term to +Samantha Ann Ripley. + +"Give a feller time to think, will yer?" expostulated Jabe, with his +mouth full of pie. "Everything comes to him as waits 'd be an awful good +motto for you! Where'd I see 'em? Why, I fetched 'em as fur as the +cross-roads myself." + +"Well, I never!" "I want to know!" cried the two women in one breath. + +"I picked 'em up out on the road, a little piece this side o' the +station. 'T was at the top o' Marm Berry's hill, that's jest where 't +was. The boy was trudgin' along draggin' the baby 'n' the basket, 'n' I +thought I'd give him a lift, so s' I, 'Goin' t' the Swamp or t' the +Falls?' s' I. 'To the Falls,' s' 'e. 'Git in,' s' I, ''n' I'll give yer +a ride, 'f y' ain't in no hurry,' s' I. So in he got, 'n' the baby tew. +When I got putty near home, I happened ter think I'd oughter gone roun' +by the tan'ry 'n' picked up the Widder Foss, 'n' so s' I, 'I ain't goin' +no nearer to the Falls; but I guess your laigs is good for the balance +o' the way, ain't they?' s' I. 'I guess they be!' s' 'e. Then he thanked +me 's perlite's Deacon Sawyer's first wife, 'n' I left him 'n' his folks +in the road where I found 'em." + +"Didn't you ask where he belonged nor where he was bound?" + +"'T ain't my way to waste good breath askin' questions 't ain't none o' +my bis'ness," replied Mr. Slocum. + +"You're right, it ain't," responded Samantha, as she slammed the +milk-pans in the sink; "'n' it's my hope that some time when you get +good and ready to ask somebody somethin' they'll be in too much of a +hurry to answer you!" + +"Be they any of your folks, Miss Vildy?" asked Jabe, grinning with +delight at Samantha's ill humor. + +"No," she answered briefly. + +"What yer cal'latin' ter do with 'em?" + +"I haven't decided yet. The boy says they haven't got any folks nor any +home; and I suppose it's our duty to find a place for 'em. I don't see +but we've got to go to the expense of takin' 'em back to the city and +puttin' 'em in some asylum." + +"How'd they happen to come here?" + +"They ran away from the city yesterday, and they liked the looks of this +place; that's all the satisfaction we can get out of 'em, and I dare say +it's a pack of lies." + +"That boy wouldn't tell a lie no more 'n a seraphim!" said Samantha +tersely. + +"You can't judge folks by appearances," answered Vilda. "But anyhow, +don't talk to the neighbors, Jabe; and if you haven't got anything +special on hand to-day, I wish you'd patch the roof of the summer house +and dig us a mess of beet greens. Keep the children with you, and see +what you make of 'em; they're playin' in the garden now." + +"All right. I'll size 'em up the best I ken, tho' mebbe it'll hender me +in my work some; but time was made for slaves, as the molasses said when +they told it to hurry up in winter time." + +Two hours later, Miss Vilda looked from the kitchen window and saw Jabez +Slocum coming across the road from the garden. Timothy trudged beside +him, carrying the basket of greens in one hand, and the other locked in +Jabe's huge paw; his eyes upturned and shining with pleasure, his lips +moving as if he were chattering like a magpie. Lady Gay was just where +you might have expected to find her, mounted on the towering height of +Jabe's shoulder, one tiny hand grasping his weather-beaten straw hat, +while with the other she whisked her willing steed with an alder switch +which had evidently been cut for that purpose by the victim himself. + +"That's the way he's sizin' of 'em up," said Samantha, leaning over +Vilda's shoulder with a smile. "I'll bet they've sized him up enough +sight better 'n he has them!" + +Jabe left the children outside, and came in with the basket. Putting his +hat in the wood-box and hitching up his trousers impressively, he sat +down on the settle. + +"Them ain't no children to be wanderin' about the earth afoot 'n' alone, +'same 's Hitty went to the beach;' nor they ain't any common truck ter +be put inter 'sylums 'n' poor-farms. There's some young ones that's so +everlastin' chuckle-headed 'n' hombly 'n' contrairy that they ain't +hardly wuth savin'; but these ain't that kind. The baby, now you've got +her cleaned up, is han'somer 'n any baby on the river, 'n' a reg'lar +chunk o' sunshine besides. I'd be willin' ter pay her a little suthin' +for livin' alongside. The boy--well, the boy is a extra-ordinary boy. We +got on tergether's slick as if we was twins. That boy's got idees, +that's what he's got; 'n' he's likely to grow up into--well, 'most +anything." + +"If you think so highly of 'em, why don't you adopt 'em?" asked Miss +Vilda curtly. "That's what they seem to think folks ought to do." + +"I ain't sure but I shall," Mr. Slocum responded unexpectedly. "If you +can't find a better home for 'em somewheres, I ain't sure but I'll take +'em myself. Land sakes! if Rhapseny was alive I'd adopt 'em quicker 'n +blazes; but marm won't take to the idee very strong, I don't s'pose, 'n' +she ain't much on bringin' up children, as I ken testify. Still, she's a +heap better 'n a brick asylum with a six-foot stone wall round it, when +yer come to that. But I b'lieve we ken do better for 'em. I can say to +folks, 'See here: here's a couple o' smart, han'some children. You can +have 'em for nothin', 'n' needn't resk the onsartainty o' gittin' +married 'n' raisin' yer own; 'n' when yer come ter that, yer wouldn't +stan' no charnce o' gittin' any as likely as these air, if ye did.'" + +"That's true as the gospel!" said Samantha. It nearly killed her to +agree with him, but the words were fairly wrung from her unwilling lips +by his eloquence and wisdom. + +"Well, we'll see what we can do for 'em," said Vilda in a non-committal +tone; "and here they'll have to stay, for all I see, tell we can get +time to turn round and look 'em up a place." + +"And the way their edjercation has been left be," continued Mr. Slocum, +"is a burnin' shame in a Christian country. I don' b'lieve they ever see +the inside of a school-house! I've learned 'em more this mornin' 'n +they ever hearn tell of before, but they're 's ignorant 's Cooper's cow +yit. They don' know tansy from sorrel, nor slip'ry ellum from +pennyroyal, nor burdock from pigweed; they don' know a dand'lion from a +hole in the ground; they don' know where the birds put up when it comes +on night; they never see a brook afore, nor a bull-frog; they never +hearn tell o' cat-o'-nine-tails, nor jack-lanterns, nor see-saws. Land +sakes! we got ter talkin' 'bout so many things that I clean forgot the +summer-house roof. But there! this won't do for me: I must be goin'; +there ain't no rest for the workin'-man in this country." + +"If there wa'n't no work for him, he'd be wuss off yet," responded +Samantha. + +"Right ye are, Samanthy! Look here, when 'd you want that box you give +me to fix?" + +"I wanted it before hayin', but I s'pose any time before Thanksgivin' +'ll do, seein' it's you." + +"What's wuth doin' 't all 's wuth takin' time over, 's my motto," said +Jabe cheerfully, "but seein' it's you, I'll nail that cover on ter night +or bust!" + + + + +SCENE IX. + +_A Village Sabbath._ + +"NOW THE END OF THE COMMANDMENT IS CHARITY, OUT OF A PURE HEART." + + +It was Sunday morning, and the very peace of God was brooding over +Pleasant River. Timothy, Rags, and Gay were playing decorously in the +orchard. Maria was hitched to an apple-tree in the side yard, and stood +there serenely with her eyes half closed, dreaming of oats past and oats +to come. Miss Vilda and Samantha issued from the mosquito-netting door, +clad in Sunday best; and the children approached nearer, that they might +share in the excitement of the departure for "meeting." Gay clamored to +go, but was pacified by the gift of a rag-doll that Samantha had made +for her the evening before. It was a monstrosity, but Gay dipped it +instantly in the alembic of her imagination, and it became a beautiful, +responsive little daughter, which she clasped close in her arms, and on +which she showered the tenderest tokens of maternal affection. + +Miss Vilda handed Timothy a little green-paper-covered book, before she +climbed into the buggy. "That's a catechism," she said; "and if you'll +be a good boy and learn the first six pages, and say 'em to me this +afternoon, Samantha 'll give you a top that you can spin on week days." + +"What is a catechism?" asked Timothy, as he took the book. + +"It's a Sunday-school lesson." + +"Oh, then I can learn it," said Timothy, brightening; "I learned three +for Miss Dora, in the city." + +"Well, I'm thankful to hear that you've had some spiritual advantages; +now, stay right here in the orchard till Jabe comes; and don't set the +house afire," she added, as Samantha took the reins and raised them for +the mighty slap on Maria's back which was necessary to wake her from her +Sunday slumber. + +"Why would I want to set the house afire?" Timothy asked wonderingly. + +"Well, I don't know 's you would want to, but I thought you might get +to playin' with matches, though I've hid 'em all." + +"Play with matches!" exclaimed Timothy, in wide-eyed astonishment that a +match could appeal to anybody as a desirable plaything. "Oh, no, thank +you; I shouldn't have thought of it." + +"I don't know as we ought to have left 'em alone," said Vilda, looking +back, as Samantha urged the moderate Maria over the road; "though I +don't know exactly what they could do." + +"Except run away," said Samantha reflectively. + +"I wish to the land they would! It would be the easiest way out of a +troublesome matter. Every day that goes by will make it harder for us to +decide what to do with 'em; for you can't do by those you know the same +as if they were strangers." + +There was a long main street running through the village north and +south. Toward the north it led through a sweet-scented wood, where the +grass tufts grew in verdant strips along the little-traveled road. It +had been a damp morning, and, though now the sun was shining +brilliantly, the spiders' webs still covered the fields; gossamer laces +of moist, spun silver, through which shone the pink and lilac of the +meadow grasses. The wood was a quiet place, and more than once Miss +Vilda and Samantha had discussed matters there which they would never +have mentioned at the White Farm. + +Maria went ambling along serenely through the arcade of trees, where the +sun went wandering softly, "as with his hands before his eyes;" +overhead, the vast blue canopy of heaven, and under the trees the soft +brown leaf carpet, "woven by a thousand autumns." + +"I don't know but I could grow to like the baby in time," said Vilda, +"though it's my opinion she's goin' to be dreadful troublesome; but I'm +more 'n half afraid of the boy. Every time he looks at me with those +searchin' eyes of his, I mistrust he's goin' to say something about +Marthy,--all on account of his giving me such a turn when he came to the +door." + +"He'd be awful handy round the house, though, Vildy; that is, if he _is_ +handy,--pickin' up chips, 'n' layin' fires, 'n' what not; but, 's you +say, he ain't so takin' as the baby at first sight. She's got the same +winnin' way with her that Marthy hed!" + +"Yes," said Miss Vilda grimly; "and I guess it's the devil's own way." + +"Well, yes, mebbe; 'n' then again mebbe 't ain't. There ain't no reason +why the devil should own all the han'some faces 'n' tunesome laughs, 't +I know of. It doos seem 's if beauty was turrible misleading', 'n' I've +ben glad sometimes the Lord didn't resk none of it on me; for I was +behind the door when good looks was give out, 'n' I'm willin' t' own up +to it; but, all the same, I like to see putty faces roun' me, 'n' I +guess when the Lord sets his mind on it He can make goodness 'n' beauty +git along comf'tably in the same body. When yer come to that, hombly +folks ain't allers as good 's they might be, 'n' no comfort to anybody's +eyes, nuther." + +"You think the boy's all right in the upper story, do you? He's a +strange kind of a child, to my thinkin'." + +"I ain't so sure but he's smarter 'n we be, but he talks queer, 'n' no +mistake. This mornin' he was pullin' the husks off a baby ear o' corn +that Jabe brought in, 'n' s' 'e, 'S'manthy, I think the corn must be the +happiest of all the veg'tables.' 'How you talk!' s' I; 'what makes you +think that way?'" + +"Why, because,' s' 'e, 'God has hidden it away so safe, with all that +shinin' silk round it first, 'n' then the soft leaves wrapped outside o' +the silk. I guess it's God's fav'rite veg'table; don't you, S'manthy?' +s' 'e. And when I was showin' him pictures last night, 'n' he see the +crosses on top some o' the city meetin'-houses, s' 'e, 'They have two +sticks on 'most all the churches, don't they, S'manthy? I s'pose that's +one stick for God, and the other for the peoples.' Well, now, don't you +remember Seth Pennell, o' Buttertown, how queer he was when he was a +boy? We thought he'd never be wuth his salt. He used to stan' in the +front winder 'n' twirl the curtin tossel for hours to a time. And don't +you know it come out last year that he'd wrote a reg'lar book, with +covers on it 'n' all, 'n' that he got five dollars a colume for writin' +poetry verses for the papers?" + +"Oh, well, if you mean that," said Vilda argumentatively, "I don't call +writin' poetry any great test of smartness. There ain't been a big fool +in this village for years but could do somethin' in the writin' line. I +guess it ain't any great trick, if you have a mind to put yourself down +to it. For my part, I've always despised to see a great, hulkin' man, +that could handle a hoe or a pitchfork, sit down and twirl a pen-stalk." + +"Well, I ain't so sure. I guess the Lord hes his own way o' managin' +things. We ain't all cal'lated to hoe pertaters nor yet to write poetry +verses. There's as much dif'rence in folks 's there is in anybody. Now, +I can take care of a dairy as well as the next one, 'n' nobody was ever +hearn to complain o' my butter; but there was that lady in New York +State that used to make flowers 'n' fruit 'n' graven images out o' her +churnin's. You've hearn tell o' that piece she carried to the +Centennial? Now, no sech doin's 's that ever come into my head. I've +went on makin' round balls for twenty years: 'n', massy on us, don't I +remember when my old butter stamp cracked, 'n' I couldn't get another +with an ear o' corn on it, 'n' hed to take one with a beehive, why, I +was that homesick I couldn't bear to look my butter 'n the eye! But that +woman would have had a new picter on her balls every day, I shouldn't +wonder! (For massy's sake, Maria, don't stan' stock still 'n' let the +flies eat yer right up!) No, I tell yer, it takes all kinds o' folks to +make a world. Now, I couldn't never read poetry. It's so dull, it makes +me feel 's if I'd been trottin' all day in the sun! But there's folks +that can stan' it, or they wouldn't keep on turnin' of it out. The +children are nice children enough, but have they got any folks anywhere, +'n' what kind of folks, 'n' where'd they come from, anyhow: that's what +we've got to find out, 'n' I guess it'll be consid'able of a chore!" + +"I don't know but you're right. I thought some of sendin' Jabe to the +city to-morrow." + +"Jabe? Well, I s'pose he'd be back by 'nother spring; but who'd we get +ter shovel us out this winter, seein' as there ain't more 'n three men +in the whole village? Aunt Hitty says twenty-year engagements 's goin' +out o' fashion in the big cities, 'n' I'm glad if they be. They'd 'a' +never come _in_, I told her, if there'd ever been an extry man in these +parts, but there never was. If you got holt o' one by good luck, you had +ter _keep_ holt, if 't was two years or twenty-two, or go without. I +used ter be too proud ter go without; now I've got more sense, thanks +be! Why don't you go to the city yourself, Vildy? Jabe Slocum ain't got +sprawl enough to find out anythin' wuth knowin'." + +"I suppose I could go, though I don't like the prospect of it very +much. I haven't been there for years, but I'd ought to look after my +property there once in a while. Deary me! it seems as if we weren't ever +going to have any more peace." + +"Mebbe we ain't," said Samantha, as they wound up the meeting-house +hill; "but ain't we hed 'bout enough peace for one spell? If peace was +the best thing we could get in this world, we might as well be them old +cows by the side o' the road there. There ain't nothin' so peaceful as a +cow, when you come to that!" + +The two women went into the church more perplexed in mind than they +would have cared to confess. During the long prayer (the minister could +talk to God at much greater length than he could talk about Him), Miss +Vilda prayed that the Lord would provide the two little wanderers with +some more suitable abiding-place than the White Farm; and that, failing +this, He would inform his servant whether there was anything unchristian +in sending them to a comfortable public asylum. She then reminded Heaven +that she had made the Foreign Missionary Society her residuary legatee +(a deed that established her claim to being a zealous member of the +fold), so that she could scarcely be blamed for not wishing to take two +orphan children into her peaceful home. + +Well, it is no great wonder that so faulty a prayer did not bring the +wished-for light at once; but the ministering angels, who had the +fatherless little ones in their care, did not allow Miss Vilda's mind to +rest quietly. Just as the congregation settled itself after the hymn, +and the palm-leaf fans began to sway in the air, a swallow flew in +through the open window; and, after fluttering to and fro over the +pulpit, hid itself in a dark corner, unnoticed by all save the small +boys of the congregation, to whom it was, of course, a priceless boon. +But Miss Vilda could not keep her wandering thoughts on the sermon any +more than if she had been a small boy. She was anything but +superstitious; but she had seen that swallow, or some of its ancestors, +before.... It had flown into the church on the very Sunday of her +mother's death.... They had left her sitting in the high-backed rocker +by the window, the great family Bible and her spectacles on the little +light-stand beside her.... When they returned from church, they had +found their mother sitting as they left her, with a smile on her face, +but silent and lifeless.... And through the glass of the spectacles, as +they lay on the printed page, Vilda had read the words, "For a bird of +the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the +matter;" had read them wonderingly, and marked the place with reverent +fingers.... The swallow flew in again, years afterward.... She could not +remember the day or the month, but she could never forget the summer, +for it was the last bright one of her life, the last that pretty Martha +ever spent at the White Farm.... And now here was the swallow again.... +"For a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings +shall tell the matter." Miss Vilda looked on the book and tried to +follow the hymn; but passages of Scripture flocked into her head in +place of good Dr. Watts's verses, and when the little melodeon played +the interludes she could only hear:-- + +"Yea, the sparrow hath found her an house and the swallow a nest where +she may lay her young, even Thy altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my +God." + +"As a bird that wandereth from her nest, so is a man that wandereth from +his place." + +"The foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son +of man hath not where to lay his head." + +And then the text fell on her bewildered ears, and roused her from one +reverie to plunge her in another. It was chosen, as it chanced, from the +First Epistle of Timothy, chapter first, verse fifth: "Now the end of +the commandment is charity, out of a pure heart." + +"That means the Missionary Society," said Miss Vilda to her conscience, +doggedly; but she knew better. The parson, the text,--or was it the +bird?--had brought the message; but for the moment she did not lend the +hearing ear or the understanding heart. + + + + +SCENE X. + +_The Supper Table._ + +AUNT HITTY COMES TO "MAKE OVER," AND SUPPLIES BACK NUMBERS TO ALL THE +VILLAGE HISTORIES. + + +Aunt Hitty, otherwise Mrs. Silas Tarbox, was as cheery and loquacious a +person as you could find in a Sabbath day's journey. She was armed with +a substantial amount of knowledge at almost every conceivable point; but +if an unexpected emergency ever did arise, her imagination was equal to +the strain put upon it and rose superior to the occasion. Yet of an +evening, or on Sunday, she was no village gossip; it was only when you +put a needle in her hand or a cutting-board in her lap that her memory +started on its interminable journeyings through the fields of the past. +She knew every biography and every "ought-to-be-ography" in the county, +and could tell you the branches of every genealogical tree in the +village. + +It was dusk at the White Farm, and a late supper was spread upon the +hospitable board. (Aunt Hitty was always sure of a bountiful repast. If +one were going to economize, one would not choose for that purpose the +day when the village seamstress came to sew; especially when the +aforesaid lady served the community in the stead of a local newspaper.) + +The children had eaten their bread and milk, and were out in the barn +with Jabe, watching the milking. Aunt Hitty was in a cheerful mood as +she reflected on her day's achievements. Out of Dr. Jonathan Cummins' +old cape coat she had carved a pair of brief trousers and a vest for +Timothy; out of Mrs. Jonathan Cummins' waterproof a serviceable jacket; +and out of Deacon Abijah Cummins' linen duster an additional coat and +vest for warm days. The owners of these garments had been dead many +years, but nothing was ever thrown away (and, for that matter, very +little given away) at the White Farm, and the ancient habiliments had +finally been diverted to a useful purpose. + +"I hope I shall relish my vittles to-night," said Aunt Hitty, as she +poured her tea into her saucer, and set the cup in her little blue +"cup-plate;" "but I've had the neuralgy so in my face that it's be'n +more 'n ten days sence I've be'n able to carry a knife to my mouth.... +Your meat vittles is always so tasty, Miss Cummins. I was sayin' to Mis' +Sawyer last week I think she lets her beef hang too long. Its dretful +tender, but I don't b'lieve its hullsome. For my part, as I've many a +time said to Si, I like meat with some chaw to it.... Mis' Sawyer don't +put half enough vittles on her table. She thinks it scares folks; it +don't me a mite,--it makes me 's hungry as a wolf. When I set a table +for comp'ny I pile on a hull lot, 'n' I find it kind o' discourages +'em.... Mis' Southwick's hevin' a reg'lar brash o' house-cleanin'. She's +too p'ison neat for any earthly use, that woman is. She's fixed +clam-shell borders roun' all her garding beds, an' got enough left for a +pile in one corner, where she's goin' to set her oleander kag. Then +she's bought a haircloth chair and got a new three-ply carpet in her +parlor, 'n' put the old one in the spare-room 'n' the back-entry. Her +daughter's down here from New Haven. She's married into one of the first +families o' Connecticut, Lobelia has, 'n' she puts on a good many airs. +She's rigged out her mother's parlor with lace curtains 'n' one thing +'n' 'other, 'n' wants it called the drawin'-room. Did ye ever hear tell +such foolishness? 'Drawin'-room!' s' I to Si; 'what's it goin' to draw? +Nothin' but flies, I guess likely!' ... Mis' Pennell's got a new girl to +help round the house,--one o' them pindlin' light-complected Smith +girls, from the Swamp,--look's if they was nussed on bonny-clabber. +She's so hombly I sh'd think 't would make her back ache to carry her +head round. She ain't very smart, neither. Her mother sent word she'd +pick up 'n' do better when she got her growth. That made Mis' Pennell +hoppin' mad. She said she didn't cal'late to pay a girl three shillin's +a week for growin'. Mis' Pennell's be'n feelin' consid'able slim, or she +wouldn't 'a' hired help; it's just like pullin' teeth for Deacon Pennell +to pay out money for anything like that. He watches every mouthful the +girl puts into her mouth, 'n' it's made him 'bout down sick to see her +fleshin' up on his vittles.... They say he has her put the mornin' +coffee-groun's to dry on the winder-sill, 'n' then has 'em scalt over +for dinner; but, there! I don' know 's there's a mite o' truth in it, +so I won't repeat it. They went to him to git a subscription for the new +hearse the other day. Land sakes! we need one bad enough. I thought for +sure, at the last funeral we had, that they'd never git Mis' Strout to +the graveyard safe and sound. I kep' a-thinkin' all the way how she'd +'a' took on, if she'd be'n alive. She was the most timersome woman 't +ever was. She was a Thomson, 'n' all the Thomsons was scairt at their +own shadders. Ivory Strout rid right behind the hearse, 'n' he says his +heart was in his mouth the hull durin' time for fear 't would break +down. He didn't git much comfort out the occasion, I guess! Wa' n't he +mad he hed to ride in the same buggy with his mother-in-law! The +minister planned it all out, 'n' wrote down the order o' the mourners, +'n' passeled him out with old Mis' Thomson. I was stan'in' close by, 'n' +I heard him say he s'posed he could go that way if he must, but 't would +spile the hull blamed thing for him! ... Well, as I was sayin', the +seleckmen went to Deacon Pennell to get a contribution towards buyin' +the new hearse; an' do you know, he wouldn't give 'em a dollar? He told +'em he gave five dollars towards the other one, twenty years ago, 'n' +hadn't never got a cent's worth o' use out of it. That's Deacon Pennell +all over! As Si says, if the grace o' God wa'n't given to all of us +without money 'n' without price, you wouldn't never hev ketched Deacon +Pennell experiencin' religion! It's got to be a free gospel 't would +convict him o' sin, that's certain! ... They say Seth Thatcher's married +out in Iowy. His mother's tickled 'most to death. She heerd he was +settin' up with a girl out there, 'n' she was scairt to death for fear +he'd get served as Lemuel 'n' Cyrus was. The Thatcher boys never hed any +luck gettin' married, 'n' they always took disappointments in love +turrible hard. You know Cyrus set in that front winder o' Mis' +Thatcher's, 'n' rocked back 'n' forth for ten year, till he wore out +five cane-bottomed cheers, 'n' then rocked clean through, down cellar, +all on account o' Crany Ann Sweat. Well, I hope she got her comeuppance +in another world,--she never did in this; she married well 'n' lived in +Boston.... Mis' Thatcher hopes Seth 'll come home to live. She's dretful +lonesome in that big house, all alone. She'd oughter have somebody for a +company-keeper. She can't see nothin' but trees 'n' cows from her +winders.... Beats all, the places they used to put houses.... Either +they'd get 'em right under foot so 't you'd most tread on 'em when you +walked along the road, or else they'd set 'em clean back in a lane, +where the women folks couldn't see face o' clay week in 'n' week out.... + +"Joel Whitten's widder's just drawed his pension along o' his bein' in +the war o' 1812. ... It's took 'em all these years to fix it. ... Massy +sakes! don't some folks have their luck buttered in this world?... She +was his fourth wife, 'n' she never lived with him but thirteen days +'fore he up 'n' died. ... It doos seem's if the guv'ment might look +after things a little mite closer.... Talk about Joel Whitten's bein' in +the war o' 1812! Everybody knows Joel Whitten wouldn't have fit a +skeeter! He never got any further 'n Scratch Corner, any way, 'n' there +he clim a tree or hid behind a hen-coop somewheres till the regiment got +out o' sight.... Yes: one, two, three, four,--Huldy was his fourth wife. +His first was a Hogg, from Hoggses Mills. The second was Dorcas +Doolittle, aunt to Jabe Slocum; she didn't know enough to make soap, +Dorcas didn't.... Then there was Delia Weeks, from the lower corner.... +She didn't live long.... There was some thin' wrong with Delia.... She +was one o' the thin-blooded, white-livered kind.... You couldn't get her +warm, no matter how hard you tried. ... She'd set over a roarin' fire in +the cook-stove even in the prickliest o' the dog-days. ... The +mill-folks used to say the Whittens burnt more cut-roun's 'n' stickens +'n any three fam'lies in the village. ... Well, after Delia died, then +come Huldy's turn, 'n' it's she, after all, that's drawed the +pension.... Huldy took Joel's death consid'able hard, but I guess she'll +perk up, now she's come int' this money. ... She's awful leaky-minded, +Huldy is, but she's got tender feelin's.... One day she happened in at +noon-time, 'n' set down to the table with Si 'n' I.... All of a suddent +she bust right out cryin' when Si was offerin' her a piece o' tripe, 'n' +then it come out that she couldn't never bear the sight o' tripe, it +reminded her so of Joel! It seems tripe was a favorite dish o' Joel's. +All his wives cooked it firstrate.... Jabe Slocum seems to set +consid'able store by them children, don't he?... I guess he'll never +ketch up with his work, now he's got them hangin' to his heels.... He +doos beat all for slowness! Slocum's a good name for him, that's +certain. An' 's if that wa'n't enough, his mother was a Stillwell, 'n' +her mother was a Doolittle!... The Doolittles was the slowest fam'ly in +Lincoln County. (Thank you, I'm well helped, Samanthy.) Old Cyrus +Doolittle was slower 'n a toad funeral. He was a carpenter by trade, 'n' +he was twenty-five years buildin' his house; 'n' it warn't no great, +either.... The stagin' was up ten or fifteen years, 'n' he shingled it +four or five times before he got roun', for one patch o' shingles used +to wear out 'fore he got the next patch on. He 'n' Mis' Doolittle lived +in two rooms in the L. There was elegant banisters, but no stairs to +'em, 'n' no entry floors. There was a tip-top cellar, but there wa'n't +no way o' gittin' down to it, 'n' there wa'n't no conductors to the +cisterns. There was only one door panel painted in the parlor. Land +sakes! the neighbors used to happen in 'bout every week for years 'n' +years, hopin' he'd get another one finished up, but he never did,--not +to my knowledge.... Why, it's the gospel truth that when Mis' Doolittle +died he had to have her embalmed, so 't he could git the front door +hung for the fun'ral! (No more tea, I thank you; my cup ain't out.) ... +Speakin' o' slow folks, Elder Banks tells an awful good story 'bout Jabe +Slocum.... There's another man down to Edgewood, Aaron Peek by name, +that's 'bout as lazy as Jabe. An' one day, when the loafers roun' the +store was talkin' 'bout 'em, all of a suddent they see the two of 'em +startin' to come down Marm Berry's hill, right in plain sight of the +store.... Well, one o' the Edgewood boys bate one o' the Pleasant River +boys that they could tell which one of 'em was the laziest by the way +they come down that hill.... So they all watched, 'n' bime by, when Jabe +was most down to the bottom of the hill, they was struck all of a heap +to see him break into a kind of a jog trot 'n' run down the balance o' +the way. Well, then, they fell to quarrelin'; for o' course the Pleasant +River folks said Aaron Peek was the laziest, 'n' the Edgewood boys +declared he hedn't got no such record for laziness's Jabe Slocum hed; +an' when they was explainin' of it, one way 'n' 'nother, Elder Banks +come along, 'n' they asked him to be the judge. When he heerd tell how +'t was, he said he agreed with the Edgewood folks that Jabe was lazier +'n Aaron. 'Well, I snum, I don't see how you make that out,' says the +Pleasant River boys; 'for Aaron walked down, 'n' Jabe run a piece o' the +way.' 'If Jabe Slocum run,' says the elder, as impressive as if he was +preachin',--'if Jabe Slocum ever run, then 't was because he was _too +doggoned lazy to hold back!_ 'an' that settled it!... (No, I couldn't +eat another mossel, Miss Cummins; I've made out a splendid supper.) ... +You can't git such pie 'n' doughnuts anywhere else in the village, 'n' +what I say I mean.... Do you make your riz doughnuts with emptin's? I +want to know! Si says there's more faculty in cookin' flour food than +there is in meat-victuals, 'n' I guess he's 'bout right." + + * * * * * + +It was bedtime, and Timothy was in his little room carrying on the most +elaborate and complicated plots for reading the future. It must be known +that Jabe Slocum was as full of signs as a Farmer's Almanac, and he had +given Timothy more than one formula for attaining his secret +desires,--old, well-worn recipes for luck, which had been tried for +generations in Pleasant River, and which were absolutely "certain" in +their results. The favorites were:-- + + "Star bright, star light, + First star I've seen to-night, + Wish I may, wish I might, + Get the wish I wish to-night;" + +and one still more impressive:-- + + "Four posts upon my bed, + Four corners overhead; + Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, + Bless the bed I _lay_ upon. + Matthew, John, Luke, and Mark, + Grant my wish and keep it dark." + +These rhymes had been chanted with great solemnity, and Timothy sat by +the open window in the sweet darkness of the summer night, wishing that +he and Gay might stay forever in this sheltered spot. "I'll make a sign +of my very own," he thought. "I'll get Gay's ankle-tie, and put it on +the window-sill, with the toe pointing out. Then I'll wish that if we +are going to stay at the White Farm, the angels will turn it around, +'toe in' to the room, for a sign to me; and if we've got to go, I'll +wish they may leave it the other way; and, oh dear, but I'm glad it's so +little and easy to move; and then I'll say Matthew, Mark, Luke, and +John, four times over, without stopping, as Jabe told me to, and then +see how it turns out in the morning." ... + +But the incantation was more soothing than the breath of Miss Vilda's +scarlet poppies, and before the magical verse had fallen upon the drowsy +air for the third time, Timothy was fast asleep, with a smile of hope on +his parted lips. + +There was a sweet summer shower in the night. The soft breezes, fresh +from shaded dells and nooks of fern, fragrant with the odor of pine and +vine and wet wood-violets, blew over the thirsty meadows and golden +stubble-fields, and brought an hour of gentle rain. + +It sounded a merry tintinnabulation on Samantha's milk-pans, wafted the +scent of dripping honeysuckle into the farmhouse windows, and drenched +the night-caps in which prudent farmers had dressed their haycocks. + +Next morning, the green world stood on tiptoe to welcome the victorious +sun, and every little leaf shone as a child's eyes might shine at the +remembrance of a joy just past. + +A meadow lark perched on a swaying apple-branch above Martha's grave, +and poured out his soul in grateful melody; and Timothy, wakened by +Nature's sweet good-morning, leaped from the too fond embrace of Miss +Vilda's feather-bed.... And lo, a miracle!... The woodbine clung close +to the wall beneath his window. It was tipped with strong young shoots +reaching out their innocent hands to cling to any support that offered; +and one baby tendril that seemed to have grown in a single night, so +delicate it was, had somehow been blown by the sweet night wind from its +drooping place on the parent vine, and, falling on the window-sill, had +curled lovingly round Gay's fairy shoe, and held it fast! + + + + +SCENE XI. + +_The Honeysuckle Porch._ + +MISS VILDA DECIDES THAT TWO IS ONE TOO MANY, AND TIMOTHY BREAKS A +HUMMINGBIRD'S EGG. + + +It was a drowsy afternoon. The grasshoppers chirped lazily in the warm +grasses, and the toads blinked sleepily under the shadows of the steps, +scarcely snapping at the flies as they danced by on silver wings. Down +in the old garden the still pools, in which the laughing brook rested +itself here and there, shone like glass under the strong beams of the +sun, and the baby horned-pouts rustled their whiskers drowsily and +scarcely stirred the water as they glided slowly through its crystal +depths. + +The air was fragrant with the odor of new-mown grass and the breath of +wild strawberries that had fallen under the sickle, to make the sweet +hay sweeter with their crimson juices. The whir of the scythes and the +clatter of the mowing machine came from the distant meadows. Field mice +and ground sparrows were aware that it probably was all up with their +little summer residences, for haying time was at its height, and the +Giant, mounted on the Avenging Chariot, would speedily make his +appearance, and buttercups and daisies, tufted grasses and blossoming +weeds, must all bow their heads before him, and if there was anything +more valuable hidden at their roots, so much the worse! + +And if a bird or a mouse had been especially far-sighted and had located +his family near a stump fence on a particularly uneven bit of ground, +why there was always a walking Giant going about the edges with a +gleaming scythe, so that it was no wonder, when reflecting on these +matters after a day's palpitation, that the little denizens of the +fields thought it very natural that there should be Nihilists and +Socialists in the world, plotting to overturn monopolies and other +gigantic schemes for crushing the people. + +Rags enjoyed the excitement of haying immensely. But then, his life was +one long holiday now anyway, and the close quarters, scanty fare, and +wearisome monotony of Minerva Court only visited his memory dimly when +he was suffering the pangs of indigestion. For in the first few weeks of +his life at the White Farm, before his appetite was satiated, he was +wont to eat all the white cat's food as well as his own; and as this +highway robbery took place in the retirement of the shed, where Samantha +Ann always swept them for their meals, no human being was any the wiser, +and only the angels saw the white cat getting whiter and whiter and +thinner and thinner, while every day Rags grew more corpulent and +aldermanic in his figure. But as his stomach was more favorably located +than an alderman's, he could still see the surrounding country, and he +had the further advantage of possessing four legs (instead of two) to +carry it about. + +Timothy was happy, too, for he was a dreamer, and this quiet life +harmonized well with the airy fabric of his dreams. He loved every stick +and stone about the old homestead already, because the place had brought +him the only glimpse of freedom and joy that he could remember in these +last bare and anxious years; and if there were other and brighter +years, far, far back in the misty gardens of the past, they only yielded +him a secret sense of "having been," a memory that could never be +captured and put into words. + +Each morning he woke fearing to find his present life a vision, and each +morning he gazed with unspeakable gladness at the sweet reality that +stretched itself before his eyes as he stood for a moment at his little +window above the honeysuckle porch. + +There were the cucumber frames (he had helped Jabe to make them); the +old summer house in the garden (he had held the basket of nails and +handed Jabe the tools when he patched the roof); the little workshop +where Samantha potted her tomato plants (and he had been allowed to +water them twice, with fingers trembling at the thought of too little or +too much for the tender things); and the grindstone where Jabe ground +the scythes and told him stories as he sat and turned the wheel, while +Gay sat beside them making dandelion chains. Yes, it was all there, and +he was a part of it. + +Timothy had all the poet's faculty of interpreting the secrets that are +hidden in every-day things, and when he lay prone on the warm earth in +the cornfield, deep among the "varnished crispness of the jointed +stalks," the rustling of the green things growing sent thrills of joy +along the sensitive currents of his being. He was busy in his room this +afternoon putting little partitions in some cigar boxes, where, very +soon, two or three dozen birds' eggs were to repose in fleece-lined +nooks: for Jabe Slocum's collection of three summers (every egg acquired +in the most honorable manner, as he explained), had all passed into +Timothy's hands that very day, in consideration of various services well +and conscientiously performed. What a delight it was to handle the +precious bits of things, like porcelain in their daintiness!--to sort +out the tender blue of the robin, the speckled beauty of the sparrow; to +put the pee-wee's and the thrush's each in its place, with a swift throb +of regret that there would have been another little soft throat bursting +with a song, if some one had not taken this pretty egg. And there was, +over and above all, the never ending marvel of the one humming-bird's +egg that lay like a pearl in Timothy's slender brown hand. Too tiny to +be stroked like the others, only big enough to be stealthily kissed. So +tiny that he must get out of bed two or three times in the night to see +if it is safe. So tiny that he has horrible fears lest it should slip +out or be stolen, and so he must take the box to the window and let the +moonlight shine upon the fleecy cotton, and find that it is still there, +and cover it safely over again and creep back to bed, wishing that he +might see a "thumb's bigness of burnished plumage" sheltering it with +her speck of a breast. Ah! to have a little humming-bird's egg to love, +and to feel that it was his very own, was something to Timothy, as it is +to all starved human hearts full of love that can find no outlet. + +Miss Vilda was knitting, and Samantha was shelling peas, on the +honeysuckle porch. It had been several days since Miss Cummins had gone +to the city, and had come back no wiser than she went, save that she had +made a somewhat exhaustive study of the slums, and had acquired a more +intimate knowledge of the ways of the world than she had ever possessed +before. She had found Minerva Court, and designated it on her return as +a "sink of iniquity," to which Afric's sunny fountains, India's coral +strand, and other tropical localities frequented by missionaries were +virtuous in comparison. + +"For you don't expect anything of black heathens," said she; "but there +ain't any question in my mind about the accountability of folks livin' +in a Christian country, where you can wear clothes and set up to an +air-tight stove and be comfortable, to say nothin' of meetinghouses +every mile or two, and Bible Societies and Young Men's and Young Women's +Christian Associations, and the gospel free to all with the exception of +pew rents and contribution boxes, and those omitted when it's +necessary." + +She affirmed that the ladies and gentlemen whose acquaintance she had +made in Minerva Court were, without exception, a "mess of malefactors," +whose only good point was that, lacking all human qualities, they didn't +care who she was, nor where she came from, nor what she came for; so +that as a matter of fact she had escaped without so much as leaving her +name and place of residence. She learned that Mrs. Nancy Simmons had +sought pastures new in Montana; that Miss Ethel Montmorency still +resided in the metropolis, but did not choose to disclose her modest +dwelling-place to the casual inquiring female from the rural districts; +that a couple of children had disappeared from Minerva Court, if they +remembered rightly, but that there was no disturbance made about the +matter as it saved several people much trouble; that Mrs. Morrison had +had no relations, though she possessed a large circle of admiring +friends; that none of the admiring friends had called since her death or +asked about the children; and finally that Number 3 had been turned into +a saloon, and she was welcome to go in and slake her thirst for +information with something more satisfactory than she could get outside. + +The last straw, and one that would have broken the back of any +self-respecting (unmarried) camel in the universe, was the offensive +belief, on the part of the Minerva Courtiers, that the rigid Puritan +maiden who was conducting the examination was the erring mother of the +children, visiting (in disguise) their former dwelling-place. The +conversation on this point becoming extremely pointed and jocose, Miss +Cummins finally turned and fled, escaping to the railway station as fast +as her trembling legs could carry her. So the trip was a fruitless one, +and the mystery that enshrouded Timothy and Lady Gay was as impenetrable +as ever. + +"I wish I'd 'a' gone to the city with you," remarked Samantha. "Not that +I could 'a' found out anything more 'n you did, for I guess there ain't +anybody thereabouts that knows more 'n we do, and anybody 't wants the +children won't be troubled with the relation. But I'd like to give them +bold-faced jigs 'n' hussies a good piece o' my mind for once! You're too +timersome, Vildy! I b'lieve I'll go some o' these days yet, and carry a +good stout umbrella in my hand too. It says in a book somewhar's that +there's insults that can only be wiped out in blood. Ketch 'em hintin' +that I'm the mother of anybody, that's all! I declare I don' know what +our Home Missionary Societies's doin' not to regenerate them places or +exterminate 'em, one or t' other. Somehow our religion don't take holt +as it ought to. It takes a burnin' zeal to clean out them slum places, +and burnin' zeal ain't the style nowadays. As my father used to say, +'Religion's putty much like fish 'n' pertetters; if it's hot it's good, +'n' if it's cold 'tain't wuth a'--well, a short word come in there, but +I won't say it. Speakin' o' religion, I never had any experience in +teachin', but I didn't s'pose there was any knack 'bout teachin' +religion, same as there is 'bout teachin' readin' 'n' 'rithmetic, but I +hed hard work makin' Timothy understand that catechism you give him to +learn the other Sunday. He was all upsot with doctrine when he come to +say his lesson. Now you can't scare some children with doctrine, no +matter how hot you make it, or mebbe they don't more 'n half believe it; +but Timothy's an awful sensitive creeter, 'n' when he come to that +answer to the question 'What are you then by nature? An enemy to God, a +child of Satan, and an heir of hell,' he hid his head on my shoulder and +bust right out cryin'. 'How many Gods is there?' s' e, after a spell. +'Land!' thinks I, 'I knew he was a heathen, but if he turns out to be an +idolater, whatever shall I do with him!' 'Why, where've you ben fetched +up?' s' I. 'There's only one God, the High and Mighty Ruler of the +Univarse,' s' I. 'Well,' s' e', 'there must be more 'n one, for the God +in this lesson isn't like the one in Miss Dora's book at all!' Land +sakes! I don't want to teach catechism agin in a hurry, not tell I've +hed a little spiritual instruction from the minister. The fact is, +Vildy, that our b'liefs, when they're picked out o' the Bible and set +down square and solid 'thout any softening down 'n' explainin' that they +ain't so bad as they sound, is too strong meat for babes. Now I'm +Orthodox to the core" (here she lowered her voice as if there might be a +stray deacon in the garden), "but 'pears to me if I was makin' out +lessons for young ones I wouldn't fill 'em so plumb full o' brimstun. +Let 'em do a little suthin' to deserve it 'fore you scare 'em to death, +say I." + +"Jabe explained it all out to him after supper. It beats all how he gets +on with children." + +"I'd ruther hear how he explained it," answered Samantha sarcastically. +"He's great on expoundin' the Scripters jest now. Well, I hope it'll +last. Land sakes! you'd think nobody ever experienced religion afore, +he's so set up 'bout it. You'd s'pose he kep' the latch-key o' the +heavenly mansions right in his vest pocket, to hear him go on. He +couldn't be no more stuck up 'bout it if he'd ben one o' the two +brothers that come over in three ships!" + +"There goes Elder Nichols," said Miss Vilda. "Now there's a plan we +hadn't thought of. We might take the children over to Purity Village. I +think likely the Shakers would take 'em. They like to get young folks +and break 'em into their doctrines." + +"Tim 'd make a tiptop Shaker," laughed Samantha. "He'd be an Elder afore +he was twenty-one. I can seem to see him now, with his hair danglin' +long in his neck, a blue coat buttoned up to his chin, and his hands +see-sawin' up 'n' down, prancin' round in them solemn dances." + +"Tim would do well enough, but I ain't so sure of Gay. They'd have their +hands full, I guess!" + +"I guess they would. Anybody that wanted to make a Shaker out o' her +would 'a' had to begin with her grandmother; and that wouldn't 'a' done +nuther, for they don't b'lieve in marryin', and the thing would 'a' +stopped right there, and Gray wouldn't never 'a' been born int' the +world." + +"And been a great sight better off," interpolated Miss Vilda. + +"Now don't talk that way, Vildy. Who knows what lays ahead o' that +child? The Lord may be savin' her up to do some great work for Him," she +added, with a wild flight of the imagination. + +"She looks like it, don't she?" asked Vilda with a grim intonation; but +her face softened a little as she glanced at Gay asleep on the rustic +bench under the window. + +The picture would have struck terror to the sad-eyed æsthete, but an +artist who liked to see colors burn and glow on the canvas would have +been glad to paint her: a little frock of buttercup yellow calico, bare +neck and arms, full of dimples, hair that put the yellow calico to shame +by reason of its tinge of copper, skin of roses and milk that dared the +microscope, red smiling lips, one stocking and ankle-tie kicked off and +five pink toes calling for some silly woman to say "This little pig went +to market" on them, a great bunch of nasturtiums in one warm hand and +the other buried in Rags, who was bursting with the white cat's dinner, +and in such a state of snoring bliss that his tail wagged occasionally, +even in his dreams. + +"She don't look like a missionary, if that's what you mean," said +Samantha hotly. "She may not be called 'n' elected to traipse over to +Africy with a Test'ment in one hand 'n' a sun umbreller in the other, +savin' souls by the wholesale; but 't ain't no mean service to go +through the world stealin' into folks' hearts like a ray o' sunshine, +'n' lightin' up every place you step foot in!" + +"I ain't sayin' anything against the child, Samanthy Ann; you said +yourself she wa'n't cut out for a Shaker!" + +"No more she is," laughed Samantha, when her good humor was restored. +"She'd like the singin' 'n' dancin' well enough, but 't would be hard +work smoothin' the kink out of her hair 'n' fixin' it under one o' their +white Sunday bunnets. She wouldn't like livin' altogether with the +women-folks, nuther. The only way for Gay 'll be to fetch her right up +with the men-folks, 'n' hev her see they ain't no great things, anyway. +Land sakes! If 't warn't for dogs 'n' dark nights, I shouldn't care if I +never see a man; but Gay has 'em all on her string a'ready, from the boy +that brings the cows home for Jabe to the man that takes the butter to +the city. The tin peddler give her a dipper this mornin', and the +fish-man brought her a live fish in a tin-pail. Well, she makes the +house a great sight brighter to live in, you can't deny that, Vildy." + +"I ain't denyin' anything in partic'ler. She makes a good deal of work, +I know that much. And I don't want you to get your heart set on one or +both of 'em, for 't won't be no use. We could make out with one of 'em, +I suppose, if we had to, but two is one too many. They seem to set such +store by one another that 't would be like partin' the Siamese twins; +but there, they'd pine awhile, and then they 'd get over it. Anyhow, +they'll have to try." + +"Oh yes; you can git over the small-pox, but you'll carry the scars to +your grave most likely. I think 't would be a sin to part them children. +I wouldn't do it no more 'n I'd tear away that scarlit bean that's +twisted itself round 'n' round that pink hollyhock there. I stuck a +stick in the ground, and carried a string to the winder; but I didn't +git at it soon enough, the bean vine kep' on growin' the other way, +towards the hollyhock. Then the other night I got my mad up, 'n' I jest +oncurled it by main force 'n' wropped it round the string, 'n,' if +you'll believe me, I happened to look at it this mornin,' 'n' there it +'t was, as nippant as you please, coiled round the hollyhock agin! Then +says I to myself, 'Samantha Ann Ripley, you've known what 't was to be +everlastin'ly hectored 'n' intefered with all your life, now s'posin' +you let that bean have its hollyhock, if it wants it!'" + +Miss Vilda looked at her sharply as she said, "Samantha Ann Ripley, I +believe to my soul you're fussin' 'bout Dave Milliken again! + +"Well, I ain't! Every time I talk 'bout hollyhocks and scarlit beans I +ain't meanin' Dave Milliken 'n' me,--not by a long chalk! I was only +givin' you my views 'bout partin' them children, that's all!" + +"Well, all I can say is," remarked Miss Vilda obstinately, "that those +that's desirous of takin' in two strange children, and boardin' and +lodgin' 'em till they get able to do it for themselves, and runnin' the +resk of their turnin' out heathens and malefactors like the folks they +came from,--can do it if they want to. If I come to see that the baby is +too young to send away anywheres I may keep her a spell, but the boy has +got to go, and that's the end of it. You've been crowdin' me into a +corner about him for a week, and now I've said my say!" + +Alas! that tiny humming-bird's egg was crushed to atoms,--crushed by a +boy's slender hand that had held it so gently for very fear of breaking +it. For poor little Timothy Jessup had heard his fate for the second +time, and knew that he must "move on" again, for there was no room for +him at the White Farm. + + + + +SCENE XII. + +_The Village._ + +LYDDY PETTIGROVE'S FUNERAL. + + +Lyddy Pettigrove was dead. Not one person, but a dozen, had called in at +the White Farm to announce this fact and look curiously at Samantha Ann +Ripley to see how she took the news. + +To say the truth, the community did not seem to be overpowered by its +bereavement. There seemed to be a general feeling that Mrs. Pettigrove +had never been wanted in Pleasant River, coupled with a mild surprise +that she should have been wanted anywhere else. Speculation was rife as +to who would keep house for Dave Milliken, and whether Samantha Ann +would bury the Ripley-Milliken battle-axe and go to the funeral, and +whether Mis' Pettigrove had left her property to David, as was right, or +to her husband's sister in New Hampshire, which would be a sin and a +shame; but jest as likely as not, though she was well off and didn't +need it no more 'n a toad would a pocket-book, and couldn't bear the +sight o' Lyddy besides,--and whether Mr. Pettigrove's first wife's +relations would be asked to the funeral, bein' as how they hadn't spoke +for years, 'n' wouldn't set on the same side the meetin'-house, but when +you come to that, if only the folks that was on good terms with Lyddy +Pettigrove was asked to the funeral, there'd be a slim attendance, +and--so on. + +Aunt Hitty was the most important person in the village on these +occasions. It was she who assisted in the last solemn preparations and +took the last solemn stitches; and when all was done, and she hung her +little reticule on her arm, and started to walk from the house of +bereavement to her own home (where "Si" was anxiously awaiting his +nightly draught of gossip), no royal herald could have been looked for +with greater interest or greeted with greater cordiality. All the +housewives that lived on the direct road were on their doorsteps, so as +not to lose a moment, and all that lived off the road had seen her from +the upstairs windows, and were at the gate to waylay her as she passed. +At such a moment Aunt Hitty's bosom swelled with honest pride, and she +humbly thanked her Maker that she had been bred to the use of scissors +and needle. + +Two days of this intoxicating popularity had just passed; the funeral +was over, and she ran in to the White Farm on her way home, to carry a +message, and to see with her own eyes how Samantha Ann Ripley was +comporting herself. + +"You didn't git out to the fun'ral, did ye, Samanthy?" she asked, as she +seated herself cosily by the kitchen window. + +"No, I didn't. I never could see the propriety o' goin' to see folks +dead that you never went to see alive." + +"How you talk! That's one way o' puttin' it! Well, everybody was lookin' +for you, and you missed a very pleasant fun'ral. David 'n' I arranged +everything as neat as wax, and it all went off like clock-work, if I do +say so as shouldn't. Mis' Pettigrove made a beautiful remains." + +"I'm glad to hear it. It's the first beautiful thing she ever did make, +I guess!" + +"How you talk! Ain't you a leetle hard on Lyddy, Samanthy? She warn't +sech a bad neighbor, and she couldn't help bein' kind o' sour like. She +was born with her teeth on aidge, to begin with, and then she'd ben +through seas o' trouble with them Pettigroves." + +"Like enough; but even if folks has ben through seas o' trouble, they +needn't be everlastin'ly spittin' up salt brine. 'Passin' through the +valley of sorrow they make it full o' fountings;' that's what the Psalms +says 'bout bearin' trouble." + +"Lyddy warn't much on fountings," said Aunt Hitty contemplatively; "but, +there, we hadn't ought to speak nothin' but good o' the dead. Land +sakes! You'd oughter heard Elder Weekses remarks; they was splendid. We +ain't hed better remarks to any fun'ral here for years. I shouldn't 'a' +suspicioned he was preachin' 'bout Lyddy, though. Our minister's sick +abed, you know, 'n' warn't able to conduct the ex'cises. Si thinks he +went to bed a-purpose, but I wouldn't hev it repeated; so David got +Elder Weeks from Moderation. He warn't much acquainted with the remains, +but he done all the better for that. He's got a wond'ful faculty for +fun'rals. They say he's sent for for miles around. He'd just come from +a fun'ral nine miles the other side o' Moderation, up on the Blueb'ry +road; so he was a leetle mite late, 'n' David 'n' I was as nervous as +witches, for every room was cram full 'n' the thermometer stood at 87 in +the front entry, 'n' the bearers sot out there by the well-curb, with +the sun beatin' down on 'em, 'n' two of 'em, Squire Hicks 'n' Deacon +Dunn, was fast asleep. Inside, everything was as silent 's the tomb, +'cept the kitchen clock, 'n' that ticked loud enough to wake the dead +most. I thought I should go inter conniptions. I set out to git up 'n' +throw a shawl over it, it ticked so loud. Then, while we was all settin' +there 's solemn 's the last trump, what does old Aunt Beccy Burnham do +but git up from the kitchen corner where she sot, take the corn-broom +from behind the door, and sweep down a cobweb that was lodged up in one +o' the corners over the mantelpiece! We all looked at one 'nother, 'n' I +thought for a second somebody 'd laugh, but nobody dassed, 'n' there +warn't a sound in the room 's Aunt Beccy sot down agin' without movin' a +muscle in her face. Just then the minister drove in the yard with his +horse sweatin' like rain; but behind time as he was, he never slighted +things a mite. His prayer was twenty-three minutes by the clock. +Twenty-three minutes is a leetle mite too long this kind o' weather, but +it was an all-embracin' prayer, 'n' no mistake! Si said when he got +through the Lord had his instructions on most any p'int that was likely +to come up durin' the season. When he got through his remarks there +warn't a dry eye in the room. I don't s'pose it made any odds whether he +was preachin' 'bout Mis' Pettigrove or the woman on the Blueb'ry +road,--it was a movin', elevatin' discourse, 'n' that was what we went +there for." + +"It wouldn't 'a' ben so elevatin' if he'd told the truth," said +Samantha; "but, there, I ain't goin' to spit no more spite out. Lyddy +Pettigrove's dead, 'n' I hope she's in heaven, and all I can say is, +that she'll be dretful busy up there ondoin' all she done down here. You +say there was a good many out?" + +"Yes; we ain't hed so many out for years, so Susanna Rideout says, and +she'd ought to know, for she ain't missed a fun'ral sence she was nine +years old, and she's eighty-one, come Thanksgivin', ef she holds out +that long. She says fun'rals is 'bout the only recreation she has, 'n' +she doos git a heap o' satisfaction out of 'em, 'n' no mistake. She'll +go early, afore any o' the comp'ny assembles. She'll say her clock must +'a' ben fast, 'n' then they'll ask her to set down 'n' make herself to +home. Then she'll choose her seat accordin' to the way the house is +planned. She won't git too fur from the remains, because she'll want to +see how the fam'ly appear when they take their last look, but she'll +want to git opposite a door, where she can look into the other rooms 'n' +see whether they shed any tears when the minister begins his remarks. +She allers takes a little gum camphire in her pocket, so't if anybody +faints away durin' the long prayer, she's right on hand. Bein' near the +door, she can hear all the minister says, 'n' how the order o' the +mourners is called, 'n' ef she ain't too fur from the front winders she +can hev a good view of the bearers and the mourners as they get into the +kerridges. There's a sight in knowin' how to manage at a fun'ral; it +takes faculty, same as anything else." + +"How does David bear up?" asked Miss Vilda. + +"Oh, he's calm. David was always calm and resigned, you know. He shed +tears durin' the remarks, but I s'pose, mebbe, he was wishin' they was +more appropriate. He's about the forlornest creeter now you ever see' in +your life. There never was any self-assume to David Milliken. I declare +it's enough to make you cry jest to look at him. I cooked up victuals +enough to last him a week, but that ain't no way for men-folks to live. +When he comes in at noon-time he washes up out by the pump, 'n' then he +steps int' the butt'ry 'n' pours some cold tea out the teapot 'n' takes +a drink of it, 'n' then a bite o' cold punkin pie 'n' then more tea, all +the time stan'in' up to the shelf 'stid o' sittin' down like a +Christian, and lookin' out the winder as if his mind was in Hard +Scrabble 'n' his body in Buttertown, 'n' as if he didn't know whether he +was eatin' pie or putty. Land! I can't bear to watch him. I dassay he +misses Lyddy's jawin',--it must seem dretful quiet. I declare it seems +to me that meek, resigned folks, that's too good to squeal out when +they're abused, is allers the ones that gits the hardest knocks; but I +don't doubt but what there's goin' to be an everlastin' evenupness +somewheres." + +Samantha got up suddenly and went to the sink window. "It's 'bout time +the men come in for their dinner," she said. But though Jabe was mowing +the millstone hill, and though he wore a red flannel shirt, she could +not see him because of the tears that blinded her eyes. + + + + +SCENE XIII. + +_The Village._ + +PLEASANT RIVER IS BAPTIZED WITH THE SPIRIT OF ADOPTION. + + +"But I didn't come in to talk 'bout the fun'ral," continued Aunt Hitty, +wishing that human flesh were transparent so that she could see through +Samanthy Ann Ripley's back. "I had an errant 'n' oughter ben in afore, +but I've ben so busy these last few days I couldn't find rest for the +sole o' my foot skersely. I've sewed in seven dif'rent houses sence I +was here last, and I've made it my biz'ness to try 'n' stop the gossip +'bout them children 'n' give folks the rights o' the matter, 'n' git 'em +interested to do somethin' for 'em. Now there ain't a livin' soul that +wants the boy, but"-- + +"Timothy," said Miss Vilda hurriedly, "run and fetch me a passle of +chips, that's a good boy. Land sakes! Aunt Hitty, you needn't tell him +to his face that nobody wants him. He's got feelin's like any other +child." + +"He set there so quiet with a book in front of him I clean forgot he was +in the room," said Aunt Hitty apologetically. "Land! I'm so +tender-hearted I can't set my foot on a June bug 'n' 't aint' likely I'd +hurt anybody's feelin's, but as I was sayin' I can't find nobody that +wants the boy, but the Doctor's wife thinks p'raps she'll be willin' to +take the baby 'n' board her for nothing if somebody else 'll pay for her +clothes. At least she'll try her a spell 'n' see how she behaves, 'n' +whether she's good comp'ny for her own little girl that's a reg'lar limb +o' Satan anyway, 'n' consid'able worse sence she's had the scarlit +fever, 'n' deef as a post too, tho' they're blisterin' her, 'n' she may +git over it. I told her I'd bring Gay over to-night as I was comin' by, +bein' as how she was worn out with sickness 'n' house-cleanin' 'n' one +thing 'n' nother, 'n' couldn't come to git her very well herself. I +thought mebbe you'd be willin' to pay for her clothes ruther 'n hev so +much talk 'bout it, tho' I've told everybody that they walked right in +to the front gate, 'n' you 'n' Samanthy never set eyes on 'em before, +'n' didn't know where they come from." + +Samantha wiped her eyes surreptitiously with the dishcloth and turned a +scarlet face away from the window. Timothy was getting his "passle o' +chips." Gay had spied him, and toddling over to his side, holding her +dress above the prettiest little pair of feet that ever trod clover, had +sat down on him (a favorite pastime of hers), and after jolting her fat +little person up and down on his patient head, rolled herself over and +gave him a series of bear-hugs. Timothy looked pale and languid, +Samantha thought, and though Gay waited for a frolic with her most +adorable smile, he only lifted her coral necklace to kiss the place +where it hung, and tied on her sun-bonnet soberly. Samantha wished that +Vilda had been looking out of the window. Her own heart didn't need +softening, but somebody else's did, she was afraid. + +"I'm much obliged to you for takin' so much interest in the children," +said Miss Vilda primly, "and partic'lerly for clearin' our characters, +which everybody that lives in this village has to do for each other +'bout once a week, and the rest o' the time they take for spoilin' of +'em. And the Doctor's wife is very kind, but I shouldn't think o' +sendin' the baby away so sudden while the boy is still here. It +wouldn't be no kindness to Mis' Mayo, for she'd have a regular French +and Indian war right on her premises. It was here the children came, +just as you say, and it's our duty to see 'em settled in good homes, but +I shall take a few days more to think 'bout it, and I'll let her know by +Saturday night what we've decided to do.--That's the most meddlesome, +inteferin', gossipin' woman in this county," she added, as Mrs. Silas +Tarbox closed the front gate, "and I wouldn't have her do another day's +work at this house if I didn't have to. But it's worse for them that +don't have her than for them that does.--Now there's the Baptist +minister drivin' up to the barn. What under the canopy does he want? +Tell him Jabe ain't to home, Samanthy. No, you needn't, for he's +hitched, and seems to be comin' to the front door." + +"I never could abide the looks of him," said Samantha, peering over Miss +Vilda's shoulder. "No man with a light chiny blue eye like that oughter +be allowed to go int' the ministry; for you can't love your brother whom +you hev seen with that kind of an eye, and how are you goin' to love the +Lord whom you hev not seen?" + +Mr. Southwick, who was a spare little man in a long linen duster that +looked as if it had not been in the water as often as its wearer, sat +down timidly on the settle and cleared his throat. + +"I've come to talk with you on a little matter of business, Miss +Cummins. Brother Slocum has--a--conferred with me on the subject of +a--a--couple of unfortunate children who have--a--strayed, as it were, +under your hospitable roof, and whom--a--you are properly anxious to +place--a--under other rooves, as it were. Now you are aware, perhaps, +that Mrs. Southwick and I have no children living, though we have at +times had our quivers full of them--a--as the Scripture says; but the +Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord, +however, that is--a--neither here nor there. Brother Slocum has so +interested us that my wife (who is leading the Woman's Auxiliary Praying +Legion this afternoon or she would have come herself) wishes me to say +that she would like to receive one of these--a--little waifs into our +family on probation, as it were, and if satisfactory to both parties, to +bring it up--a--somewhat as our own, in the nurture and admonition of +the Lord." + +Samantha waited, in breathless suspense. Miss Vilda never would fling +away an opportunity of putting a nameless, homeless child under the roof +of a minister of the Gospel, even if he was a Baptist, with a chiny blue +eye. + +At this exciting juncture there was a clatter of small feet; the door +burst open, and the "unfortunate waifs" under consideration raced across +the floor to the table where Miss Vilda and Samantha were seated. Gay's +sun-bonnet trailed behind her, every hair on her head curled separately, +and she held her rag-doll upside down with entire absence of decorum. +Timothy's paleness, whatever the cause, had disappeared for the moment, +and his eyes shone like stars. + +"Oh, Miss Vilda!" he cried breathlessly; "dear Miss Vilda and Samanthy, +the gray hen did want to have chickens, and that is what made her so +cross, and she is setting, and we've found her nest in the alder bushes +by the pond!" + +("G'ay hen's net in er buttes by er pond," sung Gay, like a Greek +chorus.) + +"And we sat down softly beside the pond, but Gay sat into it." + +("Gay sat wite into it, an' dolly dot her dess wet, but Gay nite ittle +dirl; Gay didn't det wet!") + +"And by and by the gray hen got off to get a drink of water"-- + +("To det a dink o' water"--) + +"And we counted the eggs, and there were thirteen big ones!" + +("Fir-teen drate bid ones!") + +"So that the darling thing had to s-w-ell out to cover them up!" + +("Darlin' fin ser-welled out an' tuvvered 'em up!") said Gay, going +through the same operation. + +"Yes," said Miss Vilda, looking covertly at Mr. Southwick (who had an +eye for beauty, notwithstanding Samantha's strictures), "that's very +nice, but you mustn't stay here now; we are talkin' to the minister. Run +away, both of you, and let the settin' hen alone.--Well, as I was goin' +to say, Mr. Southwick, you're very kind and so 's your wife, and I'm +sure Timothy, that's the boy's name, would be a great help and comfort +to both of you, if you're fond of children, and we should be glad to +have him near by, for we feel kind of responsible for him, though he's +no relation of ours. And we'll think about the matter over night, and +let you know in the morning." + +"Yes, exactly, I see, I see; but it was the young child, the--a--female +child, that my wife desired to take into her family. She does not care +for boys, and she is particularly fond of girls, and so am I, very fond +of girls--a--in reason." + +Miss Vilda all at once made up her mind on one point, and only wished +that Samantha wouldn't stare at her as if she had never seen her before. +"I'm sorry to disappoint your wife, Mr. Southwick. It seems that Mrs. +Tarbox and Jabez Slocum have been offerin' the child to every family in +the village, and I s'pose bime bye they'll have the politeness to offer +her to me; but, at any rate, whether they do or not, I propose to keep +her myself, and I'd thank you to tell folks so, if they ask you. Mebbe +you'd better give it out from the pulpit, though I can let Mis' Tarbox +know, and that will answer the same purpose. This is the place the baby +was brought, and this is the place she's goin' to stay." + +"Vildy, you're a good woman!" cried Samantha, when the door closed on +the Reverend Mr. Southwick. "I'm proud o' you, Vildy, 'n' I take back +all the hard thoughts I've ben hevin' about you lately. The idee o' +that chiny-eyed preacher thinkin' he was goin' to carry that child home +in his buggy with hardly so much as sayin' 'Thank you, marm!' I like his +Baptist imperdence! His wife hed better wash his duster afore she adopts +any children. If they'd carry their theories 'bout immersion 's fur as +their close, 't wouldn't be no harm." + +"I don' know as I'd have agreed to keep either of 'em ef the whole +village hadn't intefered and wanted to manage my business for me, and be +so dretful charitable all of a sudden, and dictate to me and try to show +me my duty. I haven't had a minute's peace for more 'n a fortnight, and +now I hope they'll let me alone. I'll take the boy to the city +to-morrow, if I live to see the light, and when I come back I'll tie up +the gate and keep the neighbors out till this nine days' wonder gets +crowded out o' their heads by somethin' new." + +"You're goin' to take Timothy to the city, are you?" asked Samantha +sharply. + +"That's what I'm goin' to do; and the sooner the better for everybody +concerned. Timothy, shut that door and run out to the barn, and don't +you let me see you again till supper-time; do you hear me?" + +"And you're goin' to put him in one o' them Homes?" + +"Yes, I am. You see for yourself we can't find any place fer him +hereabouts." + +"Well, I've ben waitin' for days to see what you was goin' to do, and +now I'll tell you what I'm goin' to do, if you'd like to know. I'm goin' +to keep Timothy myself; to have and to hold from this time forth and for +evermore, as the Bible says. That's what I'm goin' to do!" + +Miss Cummins gasped with astonishment. + +"I mean what I say, Vildy. I ain't so well off as some, but I ain't a +pauper, not by no means. I've ben layin' by a little every year for +twenty years, 'n' you know well enough what for; but that's all over for +ever and ever, amen, thanks be! And I ain't got chick nor child, nor +blood relation in the world, and if I choose to take somebody to do for, +why, it's nobody's affairs but my own." + +"You can't do it, and you sha'n't do it!" said Miss Vilda excitedly. +"You ain't goin' to make a fool of yourself, if I can help it. We can't +have two children clutterin' up this place and eatin' us out of house +and home, and that's the end of it." + +"It ain't the end of it, Vildy Cummins, not by no manner o' means! If we +can't keep both of 'em, do you know what I think 'bout it? I think we'd +ought to give away the one that everybody wants and keep the other that +nobody does want, more fools they! That's religion, accordin' to my way +o' thinkin'. I love the baby, dear knows; but see here. Who planned this +thing all out? Timothy. Who took that baby up in his own arms and +fetched her out o' that den o' thieves? Timothy. Who stood all the resk +of gittin' that innocent lamb out o' that sink of iniquity, and hed wit +enough to bring her to a place where she could grow up respectable? +Timothy. And do you ketch him say in' a word 'bout himself from fust to +last? Not by no manner o' means. That ain't Timothy. And what doos the +lovin' gen'rous, faithful little soul git? He gits his labor for his +pains. He hears folks say right to his face that nobody wants him and +everybody wants Gay. And if he didn't have a disposition like a +cherubim-an-seraphim (and better, too, for they 'continually do cry,' +now I come to think of it), he'd be sour and bitter, 'stid o' bein' good +as an angel in a picture-book from sun-up to sun-down!" + +Miss Vilda was crushed by the overpowering weight of this argument, and +did not even try to stem the resistless tide of Samantha's eloquence. + +"And now folks is all of a high to take in the baby for a spell, jest +for a plaything, because her hair curls, 'n' she's handsome, 'n' light +complected, 'n' cunning, 'n' a girl (whatever that amounts to is more 'n +I know!), and that blessed boy is tread under foot as if he warn't no +better 'n an angleworm! And do you mean to tell me you don't see the +Lord's hand in this hull bus'ness, Vildy Cummins? There's other kinds o' +meracles besides buddin' rods 'n' burnin' bushes 'n' loaves 'n' fishes. +What do you s'pose guided that boy to pass all the other houses in this +village 'n' turn in at the White Farm? Don't you s'pose he was led? +Well, I don't need a Bible nor yit a concordance to tell _me_ he was. +_He_ didn't know there was plenty 'n' to spare inside this gate; a +great, empty house 'n' full cellar, 'n' hay 'n' stock in the barn, and +cowpons in the bank, 'n' two lone, mis'able women inside, with nothin' +to do but keep flies out in summer-time, 'n' pile wood on in +winter-time, till they got so withered up 'n' gnarly they warn't hardly +wuth getherin' int' the everlastin' harvest! _He_ didn't know it, I say, +but the Lord did; 'n' the Lord's intention was to give us a chance to +make our callin' 'n' election sure, 'n' we can't do that by turnin' our +backs on His messenger, and puttin' of him ou'doors! The Lord intended +them children should stay together or He wouldn't 'a' started 'em out +that way; now that's as plain as the nose on my face, 'n' that's +consid'able plain as I've ben told afore now, 'n' can see for myself in +the glass without any help from anybody, thanks be!" + +"Everybody 'll laugh at us for a couple o' soft-hearted fools," said +Miss Vilda feebly, after a long pause. "We'll be a spectacle for the +whole village." + +"What if we be? Let's be a spectacle, then!" said Samantha stoutly. +"We'll be a spectacle for the angels as well as the village, when you +come to that! When they look down 'n' see us gittin' outside this +dooryard 'n' doin' one o' the Lord's chores for the first time in ten or +fifteen years, I guess they'll be consid'able excited! But there's no +use in talkin', I've made up my mind, Vildy. We've lived together for +thirty years 'n' ain't hardly hed an ugly word ('n' dretful dull it hez +ben for both of us!), 'n' I sha'n't live nowheres else without you tell +me to go; but I've got lots o' good work in me yit, 'n' I'm goin' to +take that boy up 'n' give him a chance, 'n' let him stay alongside o' +the thing he loves best in the world. And if there ain't room for all of +us in the fourteen rooms o' this part o' the house, Timothy 'n' I can +live in the L, as you've allers intended I should if I got married. And +I guess this is 'bout as near to gittin' married as either of us ever +'ll git now, 'n' consid'able nearer 'n I've expected to git, lately. And +I'll tell Timothy this very night, when he goes to bed, for he's +grievin' himself into a fit o' sickness, as anybody can tell that's got +a glass eye in their heads!" + + + + +SCENE XIV. + +_A Point of Honor._ + +TIMOTHY JESSUP RUNS AWAY A SECOND TIME, AND, LIKE OTHER BLESSINGS, +BRIGHTENS AS HE TAKES HIS FLIGHT. + + +It was almost dusk, and Jabe Slocum was struggling with the nightly +problem of getting the cow from the pasture without any expenditure of +personal effort. Timothy was nowhere to be found, or he would go and be +glad to do the trifling service for his kind friend without other +remuneration than a cordial "Thank you." Failing Timothy there was +always Billy Pennell, who would not go for a "Thank you," being a boy of +a sordid and miserly manner of thought, but who would go for a cent and +chalk the cent up, which made it a more reasonable charge than would +appear to the casual observer. So Jabe lighted his corn-cob pipe, and +extended himself under a willow-tree beside the pond, singing in a +cheerful fashion,-- + + "'Tremblin' sinner, calm your fears! + Jesus is always ready. + Cease your sin and dry your tears, + Jesus is always ready!'" + +"And dretful lucky for you He is!" muttered Samantha, who had come to +look for Timothy. "Jabe! Jabe! Has Timothy gone for the cow?" + +"Dunno. Jest what I was goin' to ask you when I got roun' to it." + +"Well, how are you goin' to find out?" + +"Find out by seein' the cow if he hez gone, an' by not seein' no cow if +he hain't. I'm comf'table either way it turns out. One o' them writin' +fellers that was up here summerin' said, 'They also serve who'd ruther +stan' 'n' wait' 'd be a good motto for me, 'n' he's about right when +I've ben hayin'. Look down there at the shiners, ain't they cool? Gorry! +I wish I was a fish!" + +"If you was you wouldn't wear your fins out, that's certain!" + +"Come now, Samanthy, don't be hard on a feller after his day's work. +Want me to git up 'n' blow the horn for the boy?" + +"No, thank you," answered Samantha cuttingly. "I wouldn't ask you to +spend your precious breath for fear you'd be too lazy to draw it in +agin. When I want to get anything done I can gen'ally spunk up sprawl +enough to do it myself, thanks be!" + +"Wall now, Samanthy, you cheat the men-folks out of a heap o' pleasure +bein' so all-fired independent, did ye know it? + + "'Tremblin' sinner, calm your fears! + Jesus is always ready.'" + +"When 'd you see him last?" + +"I hain't seen him sence 'bout noon-time. Warn't he into supper?" + +"No. We thought he was off with you. Well, I guess he's gone for the +cow, but I should think he'd be hungry. It's kind o' queer." + +Miss Vilda was seated at the open window in the kitchen, and Lady Gay +was enthroned in her lap, sleepy, affectionate, tractable, adorable. + +"How would you like to live here at the White Farm, deary?" asked Miss +Vilda. + +"O, yet. I yike to live here if Timfy doin' to live here too. I yike oo, +I yike Samfy, I yike Dabe, I yike white tat 'n' white tow 'n' white +bossy 'n' my boofely desses 'n' my boofely dolly 'n' er day hen 'n' I +yikes evelybuddy!" + +"But you'd stay here like a nice little girl if Timothy had to go away, +wouldn't you?" + +"No, I won't tay like nite ittle dirl if Timfy do 'way. If Timfy do +'way, I do too. I's Timfy's dirl." + +"But you're too little to go away with Timothy." + +"Ven I ky an keam an kick an hold my bwef--I s'ow you how!" + +"No, you needn't show me how," said Vilda hastily. "Who do you love +best, deary, Samanthy or me?" + +"I yuv Timfy bet. Lemme twy rit-man-poor-man-bedder-man-fief on your +buckalins, pease." + +"Then you'll stay here and be my little girl, will you?" + +"Yet, I tay here an' be Timfy's ittle dirl. Now oo p'ay by your own seff +ittle while, Mit Vildy, pease, coz I dot to det down an find Samfy an' +put my dolly to bed coz she's defful seepy." + +"It's half past eight," said Samantha coming into the kitchen, "and +Timothy ain't nowheres to be found, and Jabe hain't seen him sence +noon-time." + +"You needn't be scared for fear you've lost your bargain," remarked Miss +Vilda sarcastically. "There ain't so many places open to the boy that +he'll turn his back on this one, I guess!" + + +Yet, though the days of chivalry were over, that was precisely what +Timothy Jessup had done. + +Wilkins's Wood was a quiet stretch of timber land that lay along the +banks of Pleasant River; and though the natives (for the most part) +never noticed but that it was paved with asphalt and roofed in with +oilcloth, yet it was, nevertheless, the most tranquil bit of loveliness +in all the country round. For there the river twisted and turned and +sparkled in the sun, and "bent itself in graceful courtesies of +farewell" to the hills it was leaving; and kissed the velvet meadows +that stooped to drink from its brimming cup; and lapped the trees +gently, as they hung over its crystal mirrors the better to see their +own fresh beauty. And here it wound "about and in and out," laughing in +the morning sunlight, to think of the tiny streamlet out of which it +grew; paling and shimmering at evening when it held the stars and +moonbeams in its bosom; and trembling in the night wind to think of the +great unknown sea into whose arms it was hurrying. + +Here was a quiet pool where the rushes bent to the breeze and the quail +dipped her wing; and there a winding path where the cattle came down to +the edge, and having looked upon the scene and found it all very good, +dipped their sleek heads to drink and drink and drink of the river's +nectar. Here the first pink mayflowers pushed their sweet heads through +the reluctant earth, and waxen Indian pipes grew in the moist places, +and yellow violets hid themselves beneath their modest leaves. + +And here sat Timothy, with all his heart in his eyes, bidding good-by to +all this soft and tender loveliness. And there, by his side, faithful +unto death (but very much in hopes of something better), sat Rags, and +thought it a fine enough prospect, but one that could be beaten at all +points by a bit of shed-view he knew of,--a superincumbent hash-pan, an +empty milk-dish, and an emaciated white cat flying round a corner! The +remembrance of these past joys brought the tears to his eyes, but he +forbore to let them flow lest he should add to the griefs of his little +master, which, for aught he knew, might be as heavy as his own. + +Timothy was comporting himself, at this trying crisis, neither as a hero +nor as a martyr. There is no need of exaggerating his virtues. Enough to +say, not that he was a hero, but that he had in him the stuff out of +which heroes are made. Win his heart and fire his imagination, and there +is no splendid deed of which the little hero would not have been +capable. But that he knew precisely what he was leaving behind, or what +he was going forth to meet, would be saying too much. One thing he did +know: that Miss Vilda had said distinctly that two was one too many, and +that he was the objectionable unit referred to. And in addition to this +he had more than once heard that very day that nobody in Pleasant River +wanted him, but that there would be plenty of homes open to Gay if he +were safely out of the way. A little allusion to a Home, which he caught +when he was just bringing in a four-leafed clover to show to Samantha, +completed the stock of ideas from which he reasoned. He was very clear +on one point, and that was that he would never be taken alive and put in +a Home with a capital H. He respected Homes, he approved of them, for +other boys, but personally they were unpleasant to him, and he had no +intention of dwelling in one if he could help it. The situation did not +appear utterly hopeless in his eyes. He had his original dollar and +eighty-five cents in money; Rags and he had supped like kings off wild +blackberries and hard gingerbread; and, more than all, he was young and +mercifully blind to all but the immediate present. Yet even in taking +the most commonplace possible view of his character it would be folly to +affirm that he was anything but unhappy. His soul was not sustained by +the consciousness of having done a self-forgetting and manly act, for he +was not old enough to have such a consciousness, which is something the +good God gives us a little later on, to help us over some of the hard +places. + +"Nobody wants me! Nobody wants me!" he sighed, as he lay down under the +trees. "Nobody ever did want me,--I wonder why! And everybody loves my +darling Gay and wants to keep her, and I don't wonder about that. But, +oh, if I only belonged to somebody! (Cuddle up close, little Ragsy; +we've got nobody but just each other, and you can put your head into the +other pocket that hasn't got the gingerbread in it, if you please!) If +I only was like that little butcher's boy that he lets ride on the seat +with him, and hold the reins when he takes meat into the houses,--or if +I only was that freckled-face boy with the straw hat that lives on the +way to the store! His mother keeps coming out to the gate on purpose to +kiss him. Or if I was even Billy Pennell! He's had three mothers and two +fathers in three years, Jabe says. Jabe likes me, I think, but he can't +have me live at his house, because his mother is the kind that needs +plenty of room, he says,--and Samanthy has no house. But I did what I +tried to do. I got away from Minerva Court and found a lovely place for +Gay to live, with two mothers instead of one; and maybe they'll tell her +about me when she grows bigger, and then she'll know I didn't want to +run away from her, but whether they tell her or not, she's only a little +baby, and boys must always take care of girls; that's what my +dream-mother whispers to me in the night,--and that's ... what ... I'm +always ..." + +Come! gentle sleep, and take this friendless little knight-errant in thy +kind arms! Bear him across the rainbow bridge, and lull him to rest +with the soft plash of waves and sighing of branches! Cover him with thy +mantle of dreams, sweet goddess, and give him in sleep what he hath +never had in waking! + + +Meanwhile, a more dramatic scene was being enacted at the White Farm. It +was nine o'clock, and Samantha had gone from pond to garden, shed to +barn, and gate to dairy, a dozen times, but there was no sign of +Timothy. Gay had refused to be undressed till "Timfy" appeared on the +premises, but had fallen asleep in spite of the most valiant resolution, +and was borne upstairs by Samantha, who made her ready for bed without +waking her. + +As she picked up the heap of clothes to lay them neatly on a chair, a +bit of folded paper fell from the bosom of the little dress. She glanced +at it, turned it over and over, read it quite through. Then, after +retiring behind her apron a moment, she went swiftly downstairs to the +dining-room where Miss Avilda and Jabe were sitting. + +"There!" she exclaimed, with a triumphant sob, as she laid the paper +down in front of the astonished couple. "That's a letter from Timothy. +He's run away, 'n' I don't blame him a mite 'n' I hope folks 'll be +satisfied now they've got red of the blessed angel, 'n' turned him +outdoors without a roof to his head! Read it out, 'n' see what kind of a +boy we've showed the door to!" + + + Dere Miss vilder and sermanthy. i herd you say i cood not stay here + enny longer and other peeple sed nobuddy wood have me and what you + sed about the home but as i do not like homes i am going to run + away if its all the same to you. Please give Jabe back his birds + egs with my love and i am sorry i broak the humming-bird's one but + it was a naxident. Pleas take good care of gay and i will come back + and get her when I am ritch. I thank you very mutch for such a + happy time and the white farm is the most butifull plase in the + whole whirld. TIM. + + p. s. i wood not tell you if i was going to stay but billy penel + thros stones at the white cow witch i fere will get into her milk + so no more from TIM. + + i am sorry not to say good by but i am afrade on acount of the home + so i put them here. + +[Illustration: Kisses] + +The paper fell from Miss Vilda's trembling fingers, and two salt tears +dropped into the kissing places. + +"The Lord forgive me!" she said at length (and it was many a year since +any one had seen her so moved). "The Lord forgive me for a hard-hearted +old woman, and give me a chance to make it right. Not one reproachful +word does he say to us about showin' partiality,--not one! And my heart +has kind of yearned over that boy from the first, but just because he +had Marthy's eyes he kept bringin' up the past to me, and I never looked +at him without rememberin' how hard and unforgivin' I'd ben to her, and +thinkin' if I'd petted and humored her a little and made life +pleasanter, perhaps she'd never have gone away. And I've scrimped and +saved and laid up money till it comes hard to pay it out, and when I +thought of bringin' up and schoolin' two children I cal'lated I couldn't +afford it; and yet I've got ten thousand dollars in the bank and the +best farm for miles around. Samanthy, you go fetch my bonnet and +shawl,--Jabe, you go and hitch up Maria, and we'll go after that boy and +fetch him back if he's to be found anywheres above ground! And if we +come across any more o' the same family trampin' around the country, +we'll bring them along home while we're about it, and see if we can't +get some sleep and some comfort out o' life. And the Missionary Society +can look somewheres else for money. There's plenty o' folks that don't +get good works set right down in their front yards for 'em to do. I'll +look out for the individyals for a spell, and let the other folks +support the societies!" + + + + +SCENE XV. + +_Wilkins's Woods._ + +LIKE ALL DOGS IN FICTION THE FAITHFUL RAGS GUIDES MISS VILDA TO HIS +LITTLE MASTER. + + +Samantha ran out to the barn to hold the lantern and see that Jabe +didn't go to sleep while he was harnessing Maria. But he seemed +unusually "spry" for him, although he was conducting himself in a +somewhat strange and unusual manner. His loose figure shook from time to +time, as with severe chills; he seemed too weak to hold up the shafts, +and so he finally dropped them and hung round Maria's neck in a sort of +mild, speechless convulsion. + +"What under the canopy ails you, Jabe Slocum?" asked Samantha. "I s'pose +it's one o' them everlastin' old addled jokes o' yourn you're tryin' to +hatch out, but it's a poor time to be jokin' now. What's the matter with +you?" + +"'Ask me no questions 'n' I'll tell you no lies,' is an awful good +motto," chuckled Jabe, with a new explosion of mirth that stretched his +mouth to an alarming extent. "Oh, there, I can't hold in 'nother minute. +I shall bust if I don' tell somebody! Set down on that nail kag, +Samanthy, 'n' I'll let you hev a leetle slice o' this joke--if you'll +keep it to yourself. You see I know--'bout--whar--to look--for this +here--runaway!" + +"You hev n't got him stowed away anywheres, hev you? If you hev, it'll +be the last joke you'll play on Vildy Cummins, I can tell you that much, +Jabe Slocum." + +"No, I hain't stowed him away, but I can tell putty nigh whar he's +stowed hisself away, and I'm ready to die a-laffin' to see how it's all +turned out jest as I suspicioned 't would. You see, Samanthy Ann, I +thought 'bout a week ago 't would be well enough to kind o' create a +demand for the young ones so 't they'd hev some kind of a market value, +and so I got Elder Southwick 'n' Aunt Hitty kind o' started on that +tack, 'n' it worked out slick as a whistle, tho' they didn't know I was +usin' of 'em as innercent instruments, and Aunt Hitty don't need much +encouragement to talk; it's a heap easier for her to drizzle 'n it is to +hold up! Well, I've ben surmisin' for a week that the boy meant to run +away, and to-day I was dead sure of it; for he come to me this +afternoon, when I was restin' a spell on account o' the hot sun, and he +was awful low-sperrited, 'n' he asked me every namable kind of a +question you ever hearn tell of, and all so simple-minded that I jest +turned him inside out 'thout his knowin' what I was doin'. Well, when I +found out what he was up to I could 'a' stopped him then 'n' there, tho' +I don' know 's I would anyhow, for I shouldn't like livin' in a 'sylum +any better 'n he doos; but thinks I to myself, thinks I, I'd better let +him run away, jest as he's a plannin',--and why? Cause it'll show what +kind o' stuff he's made of, and that he ain't no beggar layin' roun' +whar he ain't wanted, but a self-respectin' boy that's wuth lookin' +after. And thinks I, Samanthy, 'n' I know the wuth of him a'ready, but +there's them that hain't waked up to it yit, namely, Miss Vildy Trypheny +Cummins; and as Miss Vildy Trypheny Cummins is that kind o' cattle that +can't be drove, but hez to be kind o' coaxed along, mebbe this +runnin'-away bizness 'll be the thing that'll fetch her roun' to our way +o' thinkin'. Now I wouldn't deceive nobody for a farm down East with a +pig on it, but thinks I, there ain't no deceivin' 'bout this. He don' +know I know he's goin' to run away, so he's all square; and he never +told me nothin' 'bout his plans, so I'm all square; and Miss Vildy's +good as eighteen-karat gold when she gets roun' to it, so she'll be all +square; and Samanthy's got her blinders on 'n' don't see nothin' to the +right nor to the left, so she's all square. And I ain't inteferin' with +nobody. I'm jest lettin' things go the way they've started, 'n' stan'in' +to one side to see whar they'll fetch up, kind o' like Providence. I'm +leavin' Miss Vildy a free agent, but I'm shapin' circumstances so 's to +give her a chance. But, land! if I'd fixed up the thing to suit myself I +couldn't 'a' managed it as Timothy hez, 'thout knowin' that he was +managin' anything. Look at that letter bizness now! I couldn't 'a' writ +that letter better myself! And the sperrit o' the little feller, jest +takin' his dorg 'n' lightin' out with nothin' but a perlite good-bye! +Well I can't stop to talk no more 'bout it now, or we won't ketch him, +but we'll jest try Wilkins's Woods, Maria, 'n' see how that goes. The +river road leads to Edgewood 'n' Hillside, whar there's consid'able +hayin' bein' done, as I happened to mention to Timothy this afternoon; +and plenty o' blackberries 'side the road, 'specially after you pass the +wood-pile on the left-hand side, whar there's a reg'lar garding of 'em +right 'side of an old hoss-blanket that's layin' there; one that I +happened to leave there one time when I was sleepin' ou'doors for my +health, and that was this afternoon 'bout five o'clock, so I guess it +hain't changed its location sence." + + +Jabe and Miss Vilda drove in silence along the river road that skirted +Wilkins's Woods, a place where Jabe had taken Timothy more than once, so +he informed Miss Vilda, and a likely road for him to travel if he were +on his way to some of the near villages. + +Poor Miss Vilda! Fifty years old, and in twenty summers and winters +scarcely one lovely thought had blossomed into lovelier deed and shed +its sweetness over her arid and colorless life. And now, under the magic +spell of tender little hands and innocent lips, of luminous eyes that +looked wistfully into hers for a welcome, and the touch of a groping +helplessness that fastened upon her strength, the woman in her woke into +life, and the beauty and fragrance of long-ago summers came back again +as in a dream. + +After having driven three or four miles, they heard a melancholy sound +in the distance; and as they approached a huge wood-pile on the left +side of the road, they saw a small woolly form perched on a little rise +of ground, howling most melodiously at the August moon, that hung like a +ball of red fire in the cloudless sky. + +"That's a sign of death in the family, ain't it, Jabe?" whispered Miss +Vilda faintly. + +"So they say," he answered cheerfully; "but if 't is, I can 'count for +it, bein' as how I fertilized the pond lilies with a mess o' four white +kittens this afternoon; and as Rags was with me when I done it, he may +know what he's bayin' 'bout,--if 't is Rags, 'n' it looks enough like +him to be him,--'n' it is him, by Jiminy, 'n' Timothy's sure to be +somewheres near. I'll get out 'n' look roun' a little." + +"You set right still, Jabe, I'll get out myself, for if I find that boy +I've got something to say to him that nobody can say for me." + +As Jabe drew the wagon up beside the fence, Rags bounded out to meet +them. He knew Maria, bless your soul, the minute he clapped his eyes on +her, and as he approached Miss Vilda's congress boot his quivering +whiskers seemed to say, "Now, where have I smelled that boot before? If +I mistake not, it has been applied to me more than once. Ha! I have it! +Miss Vilda Cummins of the White Farm, owner of the white cat and +hash-pan, and companion of the lady with the firm hand, who wields the +broom!" whereupon he leaped up on Miss Cummins's black alpaca skirts, +and made for her flannel garters in a way that she particularly +disliked. + +"Now," said she, "if he's anything like the dogs you hear tell of, he'll +take us right to Timothy." + +"Wall, I don' know," said Jabe cautiously; "there's so many kinds o' +dorg in him you can't hardly tell what he will do. When dorgs is mixed +beyond a certain p'int it kind o' muddles up their instincks, 'n' you +can't rely on 'em. Still you might try him. Hold still, 'n' see what +he'll do." + +Miss Vilda "held still," and Rags jumped on her skirts. + +"Now, set down, 'n' see whar he'll go." + +Miss Vilda sat down, and Rags went into her lap. + +"Now, make believe start somewheres, 'n' mebbe he'll get ahead 'n' put +you on the right track." + +Miss Vilda did as she was told, and Rags followed close at her heels. + +"Gorry! I never see sech a fool!--or wait,--I'll tell you what's the +matter with him. Mebbe he ain't sech a fool as he looks. You see, he +knows Timothy wants to run away and don't want to be found 'n' clapped +into a 'sylum, 'n' nuther does he. And not bein' sure o' your +intentions, he ain't a-goin' to give hisself away; that's the way I size +Mr. Rags up!" + +"Nice doggy, nice doggy!" shuddered Miss Vilda, as Rags precipitated +himself upon her again. "Show me where Timothy is, and then we'll go +back home and have some nice bones. Run and find your little master, +that's a good doggy!" + +It would be a clever philosopher who could divine Rags's special method +of logic, or who could write him down either as fool or sage. Suffice it +to say that, at this moment (having run in all other possible +directions, and wishing, doubtless, to keep on moving), he ran round the +wood-pile; and Miss Vilda, following close behind, came upon a little +figure stretched on a bit of gray blanket. The pale face shone paler in +the moonlight; there were traces of tears on the cheeks; but there was a +heavenly smile on his parted lips, as if his dream-mother had rocked him +to sleep in her arms. Rags stole away to Jabe (for even mixed dogs have +some delicacy), and Miss Vilda went down on her knees beside the +sleeping boy. + +"Timothy, Timothy, wake up!" + +No answer. + +"Timothy, wake up! I've come to take you home!" + +Timothy woke with a sob and a start at that hated word, and seeing Miss +Vilda at once jumped to conclusions. + +"Please, please, dear Miss Vildy, don't take me to the Home, but find me +some other place, and I'll never, never run away from it!" + +"My blessed little boy, I've come to take you back to your own home at +the White Farm." + +It was too good to believe all at once. "Nobody wants me there," he said +hesitatingly. + +"Everybody wants you there," replied Miss Vilda, with a softer note in +her voice than anybody had ever heard there before. "Samantha wants +you, Gay wants you, and Jabe is waiting out here with Maria, for he +wants you." + +"But do you want me?" faltered the boy. + +"I want you more than all of 'em put together, Timothy; I want you, and +I need you most of all," cried Miss Vilda, with the tears coursing down +her withered cheeks; "and if you'll only forgive me for hurtin' your +feelin's and makin' you run away, you shall come to the White Farm and +be my own boy as long as you live." + +"Oh, Miss Vildy, darling Miss Vildy! are we both of us adopted, and are +we truly going to live with you all the time and never have to go to the +Home?" Whereupon, the boy flung his loving arms round Miss Vilda's neck +in an ecstasy of gratitude; and in that sweet embrace of trust and +confidence and joy, the stone was rolled away, once and forever, from +the sepulchre of Miss Vilda's heart, and Easter morning broke there. + + + + +SCENE XVI. + +_The New Homestead._ + +TIMOTHY'S QUEST IS ENDED, AND SAMANTHA SAYS "COME ALONG, DAVE!" + + +"Jabe Slocum! Do you know it's goin' on seven o'clock 'n' not a single +chore done?" + +Jabe yawned, turned over, and listened to Samantha's unwelcome voice, +which (considerably louder than the voice of conscience) came from the +outside world to disturb his delicious morning slumbers. + +"Jabe Slocum! Do you hear me?" + +"Hear you? Gorry! you'd wake the seven sleepers if they was any whar +within ear-shot!" + +"Well, will you git up?" + +"Yes, I'll git up if you're goin' to hev a brash 'bout it, but I wish +you hedn't waked me so awful suddent. 'Don't ontwist the mornin' glory' +'s my motto. Wait a spell 'n' the sun 'll do it, 'n' save a heap o' wear +'n' tear besides. Go 'long! I'll git up." + +"I've heerd that story afore, 'n' I won't go 'long tell I hear you step +foot on the floor." + +"Scoot! I tell yer I'll be out in a jiffy." + +"Yes, I think I see yer. Your jiffies are consid'able like golden +opportunities, there ain't more 'n one of 'em in a lifetime!" and having +shot this Parthian arrow Samantha departed, as one having done her duty +in that humble sphere of action to which it had pleased Providence to +call her. + +These were beautiful autumn days at the White Farm. The orchards were +gleaming, the grapes hung purple on the vines, and the odor of ripening +fruit was in the hazy air. The pink spirea had cast its feathery petals +by the gray stone walls, but the welcome golden-rod bloomed in royal +profusion along the brown waysides, and a crimson leaf hung here and +there in the treetops, just to give a hint of the fall styles in color. +Heaps of yellow pumpkins and squashes lay in the corners of the fields; +cornstalks bowed their heads beneath the weight of ripened ears; beans +threatened to burst through their yellow pods; the sound of the +threshing machine was heard in the land; and the "hull univarse wanted +to be waited on to once," according to Jabe Slocum; for, as he +affirmed, "Yer couldn't ketch up with your work nohow, for if yer set up +nights 'n' worked Sundays, the craps 'd ripen 'n' go to seed on yer +'fore yer could git 'em harvested!" + +And if there was peace and plenty without there was quite as much within +doors. + +"I can't hardly tell what's the matter with me these days," said +Samantha Ann to Miss Vilda, as they sat peeling and slicing apples for +drying. "My heart has felt like a stun these last years, and now all to +once it's so soft I'm ashamed of it. Seems to me there never was such a +summer! The hay never smelt so sweet, the birds never sang so well, the +currants never jelled so hard! Why I can't kick the cat, though she's +more everlastin'ly under foot 'n ever, 'n' pretty soon I sha'n't even +have sprawl enough to jaw Jabe Slocum. I b'lieve it's nothin' in the +world but them children! They keep a runnin' after me, 'n' it's dear +Samanthy here, 'n' dear Samanthy there, jest as if I warn't a hombly old +maid; 'n' they take holt o' my hands on both sides o' me, 'n' won't stir +a step tell I go to see the chickens with 'em, 'n' the pig, 'n' one +thing 'n' 'nother, 'n' clappin' their hands when I make 'em gingerbread +men! And that reminds me, I see the school-teacher goin' down along this +mornin', 'n' I run out to see how Timothy was gittin' along in his +studies. She says he's the most ex-tra-ordi-nary scholar in this +deestrick. She says he takes holt of every book she gives him jest as if +'t was reviewin' 'stid o' the first time over. She says when he speaks +pieces, Friday afternoons, all the rest o' the young ones set there with +their jaws hanging 'n' some of 'em laughin' 'n' cryin' 't the same time. +She says we'd oughter see some of his comp'sitions, 'n' she'll show us +some as soon as she gits 'em back from her beau that works at the +Waterbury Watch Factory, and they're goin' to be married 's quick as she +gits money enough saved up to buy her weddin' close; 'n' I told her not +to put it off too long or she'd hev her close on her hands, 'stid of her +back. She says Timothy's at the head of the hull class, but, land! there +ain't a boy in it that knows enough to git his close on right sid' out. +She's a splendid teacher, Miss Boothby is! She tells me the seeleck men +hev raised her pay to four dollars a week 'n' she to board herself, 'n' +she's wuth every cent of it. I like to see folks well paid that's got +the patience to set in doors 'n' cram information inter young ones that +don't care no more 'bout learn in' 'n' a skunk-blackbird. She give me +Timothy's writin' book, for you to see what he writ in it yesterday, 'n' +she hed to keep him in 't recess 'cause he didn't copy 'Go to the ant +thou sluggard and be wise,' as he'd oughter. Now let's see what 't is. +My grief! it's poetry sure 's you're born. I can tell it in a minute +'cause it don't come out to the aidge o' the book one side or the other. +Read it out loud, Vildy." + + "'Oh! the White Farm and the White Farm! + I love it with all my heart; + And I'm to live at the White Farm, + Till death it do us part.'" + +Miss Vilda lifted her head, intoxicated with the melody she had evoked. +"Did you ever hear anything like that," she exclaimed proudly. + + "'Oh! the White Farm and the White Farm! + I love it with all my heart; + And I'm to live at the White Farm, + Till death it do us part.'" + +"Just hear the sent'ment of it, and the way it sings along like a tune. +I'm goin' to show that to the minister this very night, and that boy's +got to have the best education there is to be had if we have to +mortgage the farm." + +Samantha Ann was right. The old homestead wore a new aspect these days, +and a love of all things seemed to have crept into the hearts of its +inmates, as if some beneficent fairy of a spider were spinning a web of +tenderness all about the house, or as if a soft light had dawned in the +midst of great darkness and was gradually brightening into the perfect +day. + +In the midst of this new-found gladness and the sweet cares that grew +and multiplied as the busy days went on, Samantha's appetite for +happiness grew by what it fed upon, so that before long she was a little +unhappy that other people (some more than others) were not as happy as +she; and Aunt Hitty was heard to say at the sewing-circle (which had +facilities for gathering and disseminating news infinitely superior to +those of the Associated Press), that Samantha Ann Ripley looked so peart +and young this summer, Dave Milliken had better spunk up and try again. + +But, alas! the younger and fresher and happier Samantha looked, the +older and sadder and meeker David appeared, till all hopes of his +"spunking up" died out of the village heart; and, it might as well be +stated, out of Samantha's also. She always thought about it at sun-down, +for it was at sun-down that all their quarrels and reconciliations had +taken place, inasmuch as it was the only leisure time for week-day +courting at Pleasant River. + +It was sun-down now; Miss Vilda and Jabez Slocum had gone to Wednesday +evening prayer-meeting, and Samantha was looking for Timothy to go to +the store with her on some household errands. She had seen the children +go into the garden a half hour before, Timothy walking gravely, with his +book before him, Gay blowing over the grass like a feather, and so she +walked towards the summer-house. + +Timothy was not there, but little Lady Gay was having a party all to +herself, and the scene was such a pretty one that Samantha stooped +behind the lattice and listened. + +There was a table spread for four, with bits of broken china and shells +for dishes, and pieces of apple and gingerbread for the feast. There +were several dolls present (notably one without any head, who was not +likely to shine at a dinner party), but Gay's first-born sat in her lap; +and only a mother could have gazed upon such a battered thing and loved +it. For Gay took her pleasures madly, and this faithful creature had +shared them all; but not having inherited her mother's somewhat rare +recuperative powers, she was now fit only for a free bed in a +hospital,--a state of mind and body which she did not in the least +endeavor to conceal. One of her shoe-button eyes dangled by a linen +thread in a blood-curdling sort of way; her nose, which had been a pink +glass bead, was now a mere spot, ambiguously located. Her red worsted +lips were sadly raveled, but that she did not regret, "for it was +kissin' as done it." Her yarn hair was attached to her head with +safety-pins, and her internal organs intruded themselves on the public +through a gaping wound in the side. Never mind! if you have any +curiosity to measure the strength of the ideal, watch a child with her +oldest doll. Rags sat at the head of the dinner-table, and had taken the +precaution to get the headless doll on his right, with a view to eating +her gingerbread as well as his own,--doing no violence to the +proprieties in this way, but rather concealing her defects from a +carping public. + +"I tell you sompfin' ittle Mit Vildy Tummins," Gay was saying to her +battered offspring. "You 's doin' to have a new ittle sit-ter +to-mowowday, if you 's a dood ittle dirl an does to seep nite an kick, +you _ser-weet_ ittle Vildy Tummins!" (All this punctuated with ardent +squeezes fraught with delicious agony to one who had a wound in her +side!) "Vay fink you 's worn out, 'weety, but we know you isn't, don' +we, 'weety? An I'll tell you nite ittle tory to-night, tause you isn't +seepy. Wunt there was a ittle day hen 'at tole a net an' laid fir-teen +waw edds in it, an bime bye erleven or seventeen ittle chits f'ew out of +'em, an Mit Vildy 'dopted 'em all! In 't that a nite tory, you +_ser-weet_ ittle Mit Vildy Tummins?" + +Samantha hardly knew why the tears should spring to her eyes as she +watched the dinner party,--unless it was because we can scarcely look at +little children in their unconscious play without a sort of sadness, +partly of pity and partly of envy, and of longing too, as for something +lost and gone. And Samantha could look back to the time when she had sat +at little tables set with bits of broken china, yes, in this very +summer-house, and little Martha was always so gay, and David used to +laugh so! "But there was no use in tryin' to make folks any dif'rent, +'specially if they was such nat'ral born fools they couldn't see a hole +in a grindstun 'thout hevin' it hung on their noses!" and with these +large and charitable views of human nature, Samantha walked back to the +gate, and met Timothy as he came out of the orchard. She knew then what +he had been doing. The boy had certain quaint thoughts and ways that +were at once a revelation and an inspiration to these two plain women, +and one of them was this. To step softly into the side orchard on +pleasant evenings, and without a word, before or afterwards, to lay a +nosegay on Martha's little white doorplate. And if Miss Vilda chanced to +be at the window he would give her a quiet little smile, as much as to +say, "We have no need of words, we two!" And Vilda, like one of old, hid +all these doings in her heart of hearts, and loved the boy with a love +passing knowledge. + +Samantha and Timothy walked down the hill to the store. Yes, David +Milliken was sitting all alone on the loafer's bench at the door, and +why wasn't he at prayer-meetin' where he ought to be? She was glad she +chanced to have on her clean purple calico, and that Timothy had +insisted on putting a pink Ma'thy Washington geranium in her collar, for +it was just as well to make folks' mouth water whether they had sense +enough to eat or not. + +"Who is that sorry-looking man that always sits on the bench at the +store, Samanthy?" + +"That's David Milliken." + +"Why does he look so sorry, Samanthy?" + +"Oh, he's all right. He likes it fust-rate, wearin' out that hard bench +settin' on it night in 'n' night out, like a bump on a log! But, there, +Timothy, I've gone 'n' forgot the whole pepper, 'n' we're goin' to +pickle seed cowcumbers to-morrer. You take the lard home 'n' put it in +the cold room, 'n' ondress Gay 'n' git her to bed, for I've got to call +int' Mis' Mayhew's goin' along back." + +It was very vexatious to be obliged to pass David Milliken a second +time; "though there warn't no sign that he cared anything about it one +way or 'nother, bein' blind as a bat, 'n' deef as an adder, 'n' dumb as +a fish, 'n' settin' stockstill there with no coat on, 'n' the wind +blowin' up for rain, 'n' four o' the Millikens layin' in the churchyard +with gallopin' consumption." It was in this frame of mind that she +purchased the whole pepper, which she could have eaten at that moment as +calmly as if it had been marrow-fat peas; and in this frame of mind she +might have continued to the end of time had it not been for one of those +unconsidered trifles that move the world when the great forces have +given up trying. As she came out of the store and passed David, her eye +fell on a patch in the flannel shirt that covered his bent shoulders. +The shirt was gray and (oh, the pity of it!) the patch was red; and it +was laid forlornly on outside, and held by straggling stitches of carpet +thread put on by patient, clumsy fingers. That patch had an irresistible +pathos for a woman! + +Samantha Ann Ripley never exactly knew what happened. Even the wisest of +down-East virgins has emotional lapses once in a while, and she +confessed afterwards that her heart riz right up inside of her like a +yeast cake. Mr. Berry, the postmaster, was in the back of the store +reading postal cards. Not a soul was in sight. She managed to get down +over the steps, though something with the strength of tarred ship-ropes +was drawing her back; and then, looking over her shoulder with her whole +brave, womanly heart in her swimming eyes, she put out her hand and +said, "Come along, Dave!" + +And David straightway gat him up from the loafer's bench and went unto +Samantha gladly. + +And they remembered not past unhappiness because of present joy; nor +that the chill of coming winter was in the air, because it was summer in +their hearts: and this is the eternal magic of love. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Timothy's Quest, by Kate Douglas Wiggin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TIMOTHY'S QUEST *** + +***** This file should be named 18531-8.txt or 18531-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/5/3/18531/ + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This book was produced from scanned images of public +domain material from the Google Print project) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Timothy's Quest + A Story for Anybody, Young or Old, Who Cares to Read It + +Author: Kate Douglas Wiggin + +Release Date: June 7, 2006 [EBook #18531] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TIMOTHY'S QUEST *** + + + + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This book was produced from scanned images of public +domain material from the Google Print project) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + +<h2>By Mrs. Wiggin.</h2> + + + + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="65%" cellspacing="0" summary="Books by Mrs Wiggin"> +<tr><td align='left'>THE BIRDS' CHRISTMAS CAROL. Illustrated. Square 12mo, boards, 50 cents.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE STORY OF PATSY, Illustrated. Square 12mo, boards, 60 cents.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A SUMMER IN A CAÑON. A California Story. Illustrated. New Edition. 16mo,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>$1.25.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>TIMOTHY'S QUEST. A Story for Anybody, Young or Old, who cares to read</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>it. 16mo, $1.00.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE STORY HOUR. A Book for the Home and Kindergarten. By Mrs. Wiggin and</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nora A. Smith. Illustrated. 16mo, $1.00.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHILDREN'S RIGHTS. A Book of Nursery Logic. 16mo, $1.00.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A CATHEDRAL COURTSHIP, and PENELOPE'S ENGLISH EXPERIENCES. Illustrated.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>16mo, $1.00.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM. Illustrated, 16mo, $1.00.</td></tr> +</table> +<p class='center'>HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Boston and New York.</span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + <h1>TIMOTHY'S QUEST</h1> + + <h2><i>A STORY FOR ANYBODY, YOUNG OR OLD, + WHO CARES TO READ IT</i></h2> + + <h4>BY</h4> + + <h2>KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN</h2> + + <h4>AUTHOR OF "BIRDS' CHRISTMAS CAROL," "THE STORY OF PATSY," + "A SUMMER IN A CAÑON," ETC.</h4> + + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img002.jpg" alt="Logo" title="Logo" /></div> + + +<p class='center'>BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> +HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY<br /> +The Riverside Press, Cambridge<br /> +1894</p> + + + + + + +<p class='center'>Copyright, 1890,<br /> +By KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN<br /> +<i>All rights reserved.</i></p> + + +<h3>THIRTY-SEVENTH THOUSAND</h3> + + +<p class='center'><i>The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A.</i><br /> +Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company.<br /><br /><br /></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + <h3>To</h3> + + <h2>NORA</h2> + + <h3>DEAREST SISTER, STERNEST CRITIC,</h3> + + <h3>BEST FRIEND.<br /><br /><br /></h3> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="65%" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE I.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='right'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Flossy Morrison learns the Secret of Death</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>without ever having learned the Secret</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>of Life</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_7'><b>7</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE II.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Little Timothy Jessup assumes Parental Responsibilities</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_17'><b>17</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE III.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Timothy plans a Campaign, and Providence</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>materially assists in carrying it out, or</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>vice versa</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_26'><b>26</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE IV.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Jabe Slocum assumes the Rôle of Guardian Angel</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_39'><b>39</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE V.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Timothy finds a House in which he thinks a</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Baby is needed, but the Inmates do not</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>entirely agree with Him</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_51'><b>51</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE VI.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Timothy, Lady Gay, and Rags prove faithful</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>to each other</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_63'><b>63</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE VII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mistress and Maid find to their Amazement</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>that a Child, more than all other Gifts,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>brings Hope with it, and forward looking</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Thoughts</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_74'><b>74</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE VIII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Jabe and Samantha exchange Hostilities, and</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>the former says a Good Word for the</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Little Wanderers</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_87'><b>87</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE IX.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Now the End of the Commandment is Charity,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>out of a Pure Heart"</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_100'><b>100</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE X.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Aunt Hitty comes to "make over," and supplies</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Back Numbers to all the Village</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Histories</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_112'><b>112</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE XI.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Miss Vilda decides that Two is One too many,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>and Timothy breaks a Humming-Bird's Egg</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_126'><b>126</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE XII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Lyddy Pettigrove's Funeral</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_143'><b>143</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE XIII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Pleasant River is baptized with the Spirit of</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Adoption</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_152'><b>152</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE XIV.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Timothy Jessup runs away a Second Time,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>and, like other Blessings, brightens as</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>He takes his Flight</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_166'><b>166</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE XV.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Like all Dogs in Fiction, the Faithful Rags</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>guides Miss Vilda to his Little Master</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_179'><b>179</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SCENE XVI.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Timothy's Quest is ended, and Samantha says,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Come along, Dave"</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_189'><b>189</b></a></td></tr> +</table> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>TIMOTHY'S QUEST.</h2> + +<h3>SCENE I.</h3> + +<h4><i>Number Three, Minerva Court. First floor front.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class='hanging'>FLOSSY MORRISON LEARNS THE SECRET OF DEATH WITHOUT EVER HAVING LEARNED +THE SECRET OF LIFE.</p></blockquote> + + +<p>Minerva Court! Veil thy face, O Goddess of Wisdom, for never, surely, +was thy fair name so ill bestowed as when it was applied to this most +dreary place!</p> + +<p>It was a little less than street, a little more than alley, and its only +possible claim to decency came from comparison with the busier +thoroughfare out of which it opened. This was so much fouler, with its +dirt and noise, its stands of refuse fruit and vegetables, its dingy +shops and all the miserable traffic that the place engendered, its +rickety doorways blocked with lounging men, its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> Blowsabellas leaning on +the window-sills, that the Court seemed by contrast a most desirable and +retired place of residence.</p> + +<p>But it was a dismal spot, nevertheless, with not even an air of faded +gentility to recommend it. It seemed to have no better days behind it, +nor to hold within itself the possibility of any future improvement. It +was narrow, and extended only the length of a city block, yet it was by +no means wanting in many of those luxuries which mark this era of modern +civilization. There were groceries, with commodious sample-rooms +attached, at each corner, and a small saloon, called "The Dearest Spot" +(which it undoubtedly was in more senses than one), in the basement of a +house at the farther end. It was necessary, however, for the bibulous +native who dwelt in the middle of the block to waste some valuable +minutes in dragging himself to one of these fountains of bliss at either +end; but at the time my story opens a wide-awake philanthropist was +fitting up a neat and attractive little bar-room, called "The Oasis," at +a point equally distant between the other two springs of human joy.</p> + +<p>This benefactor of humanity had a vaulting ambition. He desired to slake +the thirst<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> of every man in Christendom; but this being impossible from +the very nature of things, he determined to settle in some arid spot +like Minerva Court, and irrigate it so sweetly and copiously that all +men's noses would blossom as the roses. To supply his brothers' wants, +and create new ones at the same time, was his purpose in establishing +this Oasis in the Desert of Minerva Court; and it might as well be +stated here that he was prospered in his undertaking, as any man is sure +to be who cherishes lofty ideals and attends to his business +industriously.</p> + +<p>The Minerva Courtier thus had good reason to hope that the supply of +liquid refreshment would bear some relation to the demand; and that the +march of modern progress would continue to diminish the distance between +his own mouth and that of the bottle, which, as he took it, was the +be-all and end-all of existence.</p> + +<p>At present, however, as the Oasis was not open to the public, children +carrying pitchers of beer were often to be seen hurrying to and fro on +their miserable errands. But there were very few children in Minerva +Court, thank God!—they were not popular there. There were frowzy, +sleepy-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>looking women hanging out of their windows, gossiping with their +equally unkempt and haggard neighbors; apathetic men sitting on the +doorsteps, in their shirt-sleeves, smoking; a dull, dirty baby or two +sporting itself in the gutter; while the sound of a melancholy accordion +(the chosen instrument of poverty and misery) floated from an upper +chamber, and added its discordant mite to the general desolation.</p> + +<p>The sidewalks had apparently never known the touch of a broom, and the +middle of the street looked more like an elongated junk-heap than +anything else. Every smell known to the nostrils of man was abroad in +the air, and several were floating about waiting modestly to be +classified, after which they intended to come to the front and outdo the +others if they could.</p> + +<p>That was Minerva Court! A little piece of your world, my world, God's +world (and the Devil's), lying peacefully fallow, awaiting the services +of some inspired Home Missionary Society.</p> + +<p>In a front room of Number Three, a dilapidated house next the corner, +there lay a still, white shape, with two women watching by it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>A sheet covered it. Candles burned at the head, striving to throw a +gleam of light on a dead face that for many a year had never been +illuminated from within by the brightness of self-forgetting love or +kindly sympathy. If you had raised the sheet, you would have seen no +happy smile as of a half-remembered, innocent childhood; the smile—is +it of peaceful memory or serene anticipation?—that sometimes shines on +the faces of the dead.</p> + +<p>Such life-secrets as were exposed by Death, and written on that still +countenance in characters that all might read, were painful ones. Flossy +Morrison was dead. The name "Flossy" was a relic of what she termed her +better days (Heaven save the mark!), for she had been called Mrs. +Morrison of late years,—"Mrs. F. Morrison," who took "children to +board, and no questions asked"—nor answered. She had lived forty-five +years, as men reckon summers and winters; but she had never learned, in +all that time, to know her Mother, Nature, her Father, God, nor her +brothers and sisters, the children of the world. She had lived +friendless and unfriendly, keeping none of the ten commandments, nor yet +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> eleventh, which is the greatest of all; and now there was no human +being to slip a flower into the still hand, to kiss the clay-cold lips +at the remembrance of some sweet word that had fallen from them, or drop +a tear and say, "I loved her!"</p> + +<p>Apparently, the two watchers did not regard Flossy Morrison even in the +light of "the dear remains," as they are sometimes called at country +funerals. They were in the best of spirits (there was an abundance of +beer), and their gruesome task would be over in a few hours; for it was +nearly four o'clock in the morning, and the body was to be taken away at +ten.</p> + +<p>"I tell you one thing, Ettie, Flossy hasn't left any bother for her +friends," remarked Mrs. Nancy Simmons, settling herself back in her +rocking-chair. "As she didn't own anything but the clothes on her back, +there won't be any quarreling over the property!" and she chuckled at +her delicate humor.</p> + +<p>"No," answered her companion, who, whatever her sponsors in baptism had +christened her, called herself Ethel Montmorency. "I s'pose the +furniture, poor as it is, will pay the funeral expenses; and if she's +got any debts, why, folks will have to whistle for their money, that's +all."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The only thing that worries me is the children," said Mrs. Simmons.</p> + +<p>"You must be hard up for something to worry about, to take those young +ones on your mind. They ain't yours nor mine, and what's more, nobody +knows who they do belong to, and nobody cares. Soon as breakfast's over +we'll pack 'em off to some institution or other, and that'll be the end +of it. What did Flossy say about 'em, when you spoke to her yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"I asked her what she wanted done with the young ones, and she said, 'Do +what you like with 'em, drat 'em,—it don't make no odds to me!' and +then she turned over and died. Those was the last words she spoke, dear +soul; but, Lor', she wasn't more'n half sober, and hadn't been for a +week."</p> + +<p>"She was sober enough to keep her own counsel, I can tell you that," +said the gentle Ethel. "I don't believe there's a living soul that knows +where those children came from;—not that anybody cares, now that there +ain't any money in 'em."</p> + +<p>"Well, as for that, I only know that when Flossy was seeing better days +and lived in the upper part of the city, she used to have money come +every month for taking care of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> the boy. Where it come from I don't +know; but I kind of surmise it was a long distance off. Then she took to +drinking, and got lower and lower down until she came here, six months +ago. I don't suppose the boy's folks, or whoever it was sent the money, +knew the way she was living, though they couldn't have cared much, for +they never came to see how things were; and he was in an asylum before +Flossy took him, I found that out; but, anyhow, the money stopped coming +three months ago. Flossy wrote twice to the folks, whoever they were, +but didn't get no answer to her letters; and she told me that she should +turn the boy out in a week or two if some cash didn't turn up in that +time. She wouldn't have kept him so long as this if he hadn't been so +handy taking care of the baby."</p> + +<p>"Well, who does the baby belong to?"</p> + +<p>"You ask me too much," replied Nancy, taking another deep draught from +the pitcher. "Help yourself, Ettie; there's plenty more where that came +from. Flossy never liked the boy, and always wanted to get rid of him, +but couldn't afford to. He's a dreadful queer, old-fashioned little kid, +and so smart that he's gettin' to be a reg'lar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> nuisance round the +house. But you see he and the baby,—Gabrielle's her name, but they call +her Lady Gay, or some such trash, after that actress that comes here so +much,—well, they are so in love with one another that wild horses +couldn't drag 'em apart; and I think Flossy had a kind of a likin' for +Gay, as much as she ever had for anything. I guess she never abused +either of 'em; she was too careless for that. And so what was I talkin' +about? Oh, yes. Well, I don't know who the baby is, nor who paid for her +keep; but she's goin' to be one o' your high-steppers, and no mistake. +She might be Queen Victory's daughter by the airs she puts on; I'd like +to keep her myself if she was a little older, and I wasn't goin' away +from here."</p> + +<p>"I s'pose they'll make an awful row at being separated, won't they?" +asked the younger woman.</p> + +<p>"Oh, like as not; but they'll have to have their row and get over it," +said Mrs. Simmons easily. "You can take Timothy to the Orphan Asylum +first, and then come back, and I'll carry the baby to the Home of the +Ladies' Relief and Protection Society; and if they yell they can yell, +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> take it out in yellin'; they won't get the best of Nancy Simmons."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk so loud, Nancy, for mercy's sake. If the boy hears you, +he'll begin to take on, and we sha'n't get a wink of sleep. Don't let +'em know what you're goin' to do with 'em till the last minute, or +you'll have trouble as sure as we sit here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they are sound asleep," responded Mrs. Simmons, with an uneasy look +at the half-open door. "I went in and dragged a pillow out from under +Timothy's head, and he never budged. He was sleepin' like a log, and so +was Gay. Now, shut up, Et, and let me get three winks myself. You take +the lounge, and I'll stretch out in two chairs. Wake me up at eight +o'clock, if I don't wake myself; for I'm clean tired out with all this +fussin' and plannin', and I feel stupid enough to sleep till kingdom +come."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE II.</h2> + +<h4><i>Number Three, Minerva Court, First floor back.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class='hanging'>LITTLE TIMOTHY JESSUP ASSUMES PARENTAL RESPONSIBILITIES.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>When the snores of the two watchers fell on the stillness of the +death-chamber, with that cheerful regularity that betokens the sleep of +the truly good, a little figure crept out of the bed in the adjoining +room and closed the door noiselessly, but with trembling fingers; +stealing then to the window to look out at the dirty street and the gray +sky over which the first faint streaks of dawn were beginning to creep.</p> + +<p>It was little Timothy Jessup (God alone knows whether he had any right +to that special patronymic), but not the very same Tim Jessup who had +kissed the baby Gay in her little crib, and gone to sleep on his own +hard bed in that room, a few hours before. As he stood shivering at the +window,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> one thin hand hard pressed upon his heart to still its beating, +there was a light of sudden resolve in his eyes, a new-born look of +anxiety on his unchildlike face.</p> + +<p>"I will not have Gay protectioned and reliefed, and I will not be taken +away from her and sent to a 'sylum, where I can never find her again!" +and with these defiant words trembling, half spoken, on his lips, he +glanced from the unconscious form in the crib to the terrible door, +which might open at any moment and divide him from his heart's delight, +his darling, his treasure, his only joy, his own, own baby Gay.</p> + +<p>But what should he do? Run away: that was the only solution of the +matter, and no very difficult one either. The cruel women were asleep; +the awful Thing that had been Flossy would never speak again; and no one +else in Minerva Court cared enough for them to pursue them very far or +very long.</p> + +<p>"And so," thought Timothy swiftly, "I will get things ready, take Gay, +and steal softly out of the back door, and run away to the 'truly' +country, where none of these bad people ever can find us, and where I +can get a mother for Gay; somebody to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> 'dopt her and love her till I +grow up a man and take her to live with me."</p> + +<p>The moment this thought darted into Timothy's mind, it began to shape +itself in definite action.</p> + +<p>Gabrielle, or Lady Gay, as Flossy called her, in honor of her favorite +stage heroine, had been tumbled into her crib half dressed the night +before. The only vehicle kept for her use in the family stables was a +clothes-basket, mounted on four wooden wheels and cushioned with a dingy +shawl. A yard of clothes-line was tied on to one end, and in this humble +conveyance the Princess would have to be transported from the Ogre's +castle; for she was scarcely old enough to accompany the Prince on foot, +even if he had dared to risk detection by waking her: so the +clothes-basket must be her chariot, and Timothy her charioteer, as on +many a less fateful expedition.</p> + +<p>After he had changed his ragged night-gown for a shabby suit of clothes, +he took Gay's one clean apron out of a rickety bureau drawer ("for I can +never find a mother for her if she's too dirty," he thought), her Sunday +hat from the same receptacle, and last of all a comb, and a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> faded +Japanese parasol that stood in a corner. These he deposited under the +old shawl that decorated the floor of the chariot. He next groped his +way in the dim light toward a mantelshelf, and took down a +savings-bank,—a florid little structure with "Bank of England" stamped +over the miniature door, into which the jovial gentleman who frequented +the house often slipped pieces of silver for the children, and into +which Flossy dipped only when she was in a state of temporary financial +embarrassment. Timothy did not dare to jingle it; he could only hope +that as Flossy had not been in her usual health of late (though in more +than her usual "spirits"), she had not felt obliged to break the bank.</p> + +<p>Now for provisions. There were plenty of "funeral baked meats" in the +kitchen; and he hastily gathered a dozen cookies into a towel, and +stowed them in the coach with the other sinews of war.</p> + +<p>So far, well and good; but the worst was to come. With his heart beating +in his bosom like a trip-hammer, and his eyes dilated with fear, he +stepped to the door between the two rooms, and opened it softly. Two +thundering snores, pitched in such dif<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>ferent keys that they must have +proceeded from two separate sets of nasal organs, reassured the boy. He +looked out into the alley. "Not a creature was stirring, not even a +mouse." The Minerva Courtiers couldn't be owls and hawks too, and there +was not even the ghost of a sound to be heard. Satisfied that all was +well, Timothy went back to the bedroom, and lifted the battered +clothes-basket, trucks and all, in his slender arms, carried it up the +alley and down the street a little distance, and deposited it on the +pavement beside a vacant lot. This done, he sped back to the house. "How +beautifully they snore!" he thought, as he stood again on the threshold. +"Shall I leave 'em a letter?... P'raps I better ... and then they won't +follow us and bring us back." So he scribbled a line on a bit of torn +paper bag, and pinned it on the enemies' door.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><h3>"A kind Lady is goin to Adopt<br />us it is a Grate ways off so do not<br /> +Hunt good by. <span class="smcap">Tim</span>."</h3></div> + +<p>Now all was ready. No; one thing more. Timothy had been met in the +street by a pretty young girl a few weeks before. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> love of God was +smiling in her heart, the love of children shining in her eyes; and she +led him, a willing captive, into a mission Sunday-school near by. And so +much in earnest was the sweet little teacher, and so hungry for any sort +of good tidings was the starved little pupil, that Timothy "got +religion" then and there, as simply and naturally as a child takes its +mother's milk. He was probably in a state of crass ignorance regarding +the Thirty-nine Articles; but it was the "engrafted word," of which the +Bible speaks, that had blossomed in Timothy's heart; the living seed had +always been there, waiting for some beneficent fostering influence; for +he was what dear Charles Lamb would have called a natural +"kingdom-of-heavenite." Thinking, therefore, of Miss Dora's injunction +to pray over all the extra-ordinary affairs of life and as many of the +ordinary ones as possible, he hung his tattered straw hat on the +bedpost, and knelt beside Gay's crib with this whispered prayer:—</p> + +<p>"<i>Our Father who art in heaven, please help me to find a mother for Gay, +one that she can call Mamma, and another one for me, if there's enough, +but not unless. Please excuse me for taking away the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> clothes-basket, +which does not exactly belong to us; but if I do not take it, dear +heavenly Father, how will I get Gay to the railroad? And if I don't take +the Japanese umbrella she will get freckled, and nobody will adopt her. +No more at present, as I am in a great hurry. Amen.</i>"</p> + +<p>He put on his hat, stooped over the sleeping baby, and took her in his +faithful arms,—arms that had never failed her yet. She half opened her +eyes, and seeing that she was safe on her beloved Timothy's shoulder, +clasped her dimpled arms tight about his neck, and with a long sigh +drifted off again into the land of dreams. Bending beneath her weight, +he stepped for the last time across the threshold, not even daring to +close the door behind him.</p> + +<p>Up the alley and round the corner he sped, as fast as his trembling legs +could carry him. Just as he was within sight of the goal of his +ambition, that is, the chariot aforesaid, he fancied he heard the sound +of hurrying feet behind him. To his fevered imagination the tread was +like that of an avenging army on the track of the foe. He did not dare +to look behind. On! for the clothes-basket and liberty! He would +re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>linquish the Japanese umbrella, the cookies, the comb, and the +apron,—all the booty, in fact,—as an inducement for the enemy to +retreat, but he would never give up the prisoner.</p> + +<p>On the feet hurried, faster and faster. He stooped to put Gay in the +basket, and turned in despair to meet his pursuers, when a little, +grimy, rough-coated, lop-eared, split-tailed thing, like an animated +rag-bag, leaped upon his knees; whimpering with joy, and imploring, with +every grace that his simple doggish heart could suggest, to be one of +the eloping party.</p> + +<p>Rags had followed them!</p> + +<p>Timothy was so glad to find it no worse that he wasted a moment in +embracing the dog, whose delirious joy at the prospect of this probably +dinnerless and supperless expedition was ludicrously exaggerated. Then +he took up the rope and trundled the chariot gently down a side street +leading to the station.</p> + +<p>Everything worked to a charm. They met only an occasional milk (and +water) man, starting on his matutinal rounds, for it was now after four +o'clock, and one or two cavaliers of uncertain gait, just return<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>ing to +their homes, several hours too late for their own good; but these +gentlemen were in no condition of mind to be over-interested, and the +little fugitives were troubled with no questions as to their intentions.</p> + +<p>And so they went out into the world together, these three: Timothy +Jessup (if it was Jessup), brave little knight, nameless nobleman, +tracing his descent back to God, the Father of us all, and bearing +the Divine likeness more than most of us; the little Lady +Gay,—somebody—nobody—anybody,—from nobody knows where,—destination +equally uncertain; and Rags, of pedigree most doubtful, scutcheon quite +obscured by blots, but a perfect gentleman, true-hearted and loyal to +the core,—in fact, an angel in fur. These three, with the +clothes-basket as personal property and the Bank of England as security, +went out to seek their fortune; and, unlike Lot's wife, without daring +to look behind, shook the dust of Minerva Court from off their feet +forever and forever.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE III.</h2> + +<h4><i>The Railway Station.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class='hanging'>TIMOTHY PLANS A CAMPAIGN, AND PROVIDENCE ASSISTS MATERIALLY IN CARRYING +IT OUT, OR VICE VERSA.</p></blockquote> + + +<p>By dint of skillful generalship, Timothy gathered his forces on a green +bank just behind the railway depot, cleared away a sufficient number of +tin cans and oyster-shells to make a flat space for the chariot of war, +which had now become simply a cradle, and sat down, with Rags curled up +at his feet, to plan the campaign.</p> + +<p>He pushed back the ragged hat from his waving hair, and, clasping his +knees with his hands, gazed thoughtfully at the towering chimneys in the +foreground and the white-winged ships in the distant harbor. There was a +glimpse of something like a man's purpose in the sober eyes; and as the +morning sunlight fell upon his earnest face, the angel in him came to +the surface, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> crowded the "boy part" quite out of sight, as it has a +way of doing sometimes with children.</p> + +<p>How some father-heart would have throbbed with pride to own him, and how +gladly lifted the too heavy burden from his childish shoulders!</p> + +<p>Timothy Jessup, aged ten or eleven, or thereabouts (the records had not +been kept with absolute exactness)—Timothy Jessup, somewhat ragged, all +forlorn, and none too clean at the present moment, was a poet, +philosopher, and lover of the beautiful. The dwellers in Minerva Court +had never discovered the fact; for, although he had lived in that world, +he had most emphatically never been of it. He was a boy of strange +notions, and the vocabulary in which he expressed them was stranger +still; further-more, he had gentle manners, which must have been +indigenous, as they had certainly never been cultivated; and, although +he had been in the way of handling pitch for many a day, it had been +helpless to defile him, such was the essential purity of his nature.</p> + +<p>To find a home and a mother for Lady Gay had been Timothy's secret +longing ever since he had heard people say that Flossy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> might die. He +had once enjoyed all the comforts of a Home with a capital H; but it was +the cosy one with the little "h" that he so much desired for her.</p> + +<p>Not that he had any ill treatment to remember in the excellent +institution of which he was for several years an inmate. The matron was +an amiable and hard-working woman, who wished to do her duty to all the +children under her care; but it would be an inspired human being indeed +who could give a hundred and fifty motherless or fatherless children all +the education and care and training they needed, to say nothing of the +love that they missed and craved. What wonder, then, that an occasional +hungry little soul, starved for want of something not provided by the +management; say, a morning cuddle in father's bed or a ride on father's +knee,—in short, the sweet daily jumble of lap-trotting, gentle +caressing, endearing words, twilight stories, motherly tucks-in-bed, +good-night kisses,—all the dear, simple, every-day accompaniments of +the home with the little "h."</p> + +<p>Timothy Jessup, bred in such an atmosphere, would have gladdened every +life that touched his at any point. Plenty of wistful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> men and women +would have thanked God nightly on their knees for the gift of such a +son; and here he was, sitting on a tin can, bowed down with family +cares, while thousands of graceless little scalawags were slapping the +faces of their French nurse-maids and bullying their parents, in that +very city.—Ah me!</p> + +<p>As for the tiny Lady Gay, she had all the winsome virtues to recommend +her. No one ever feared that she would die young out of sheer goodness. +You would not have loved her so much for what she was as because you +couldn't help yourself. This feat once accomplished, she blossomed into +a thousand graces, each one more bewitching than the last you noted.</p> + +<p>Where, in the name of all the sacred laws of heredity, did the child get +her sunshiny nature? Born in misery, and probably in sin, nurtured in +wretchedness and poverty, she had brought her "radiant morning visions" +with her into the world. Like Wordsworth's immortal babe, "with trailing +clouds of glory" had she come, from God who was her home; and the heaven +that lies about us all in our infancy,—that Garden of Eden into which +we are all born, like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> the first man and the first woman,—that heaven +lay about her still, stronger than the touch of earth.</p> + +<p>What if the room were desolate and bare? The yellow sunbeams stole +through the narrow window, and in the shaft of light they threw across +the dirty floor Gay played,—oblivious of everything save the flickering +golden rays that surrounded her.</p> + +<p>The raindrops chasing each other down the dingy pane, the snowflakes +melting softly on the casement, the brown leaf that the wind blew into +her lap as she sat on the sidewalk, the chirp of the little +beggar-sparrows over the cobblestones, all these brought as eager a +light into her baby eyes as the costliest toy. With no earthly father or +mother to care for her, she seemed to be God's very own baby, and He +amused her in his own good way; first by locking her happiness within +her own soul (the only place where it is ever safe for a single moment), +and then by putting her under Timothy's paternal ministrations.</p> + +<p>Timothy's mind traveled back over the past, as he sat among the tin cans +and looked at Rags and Gay. It was a very small story, if he ever found +any one who would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> care to hear it. There was a long journey in a great +ship, a wearisome illness of many weeks,—or was it months?—when his +curls had been cut off, and all his memories with them; then there was +the Home; then there was Flossy, who came to take him away; then—oh, +bright, bright spot! oh, blessed time!—there was baby Gay; then, worse +than all, there was Minerva Court. But he did not give many minutes to +reminiscence. He first broke open the Bank of England, and threw it +away, after finding to his joy that their fortune amounted to one dollar +and eighty-five cents. This was so much in advance of his expectations +that he laughed aloud; and Rags, wagging his tail with such vigor that +he nearly broke it in two, jumped into the cradle and woke the baby.</p> + +<p>Then there was a happy family circle, you may believe me, and with good +reason, too! A trip to the country (meals and lodging uncertain, but +that was a trifle), a sight of green meadows, where Tim would hear real +birds sing in the trees, and Gay would gather wild flowers, and Rags +would chase, and perhaps—who knows?—catch toothsome squirrels and fat +little field-mice, of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> which the country dogs visiting Minerva Court had +told the most mouth-watering tales. Gay's transport knew no bounds. Her +child-heart felt no regret for the past, no care for the present, no +anxiety for the future. The only world she cared for was in her sight; +and she had never, in her brief experience, gazed upon it with more +radiant anticipation than on this sunny June morning, when she had +opened her bright eyes on a pleasant, odorous bank of oyster-shells, +instead of on the accustomed surroundings of Minerva Court.</p> + +<p>Breakfast was first in order.</p> + +<p>There was a pump conveniently near, and the oyster-shells made capital +cups. Gay had three cookies, Timothy two, and Rags one; but there was no +statute of limitations placed on the water; every one had as much as he +could drink.</p> + +<p>The little matter of toilets came next. Timothy took the dingy rag which +did duty for a handkerchief, and, calling the pump again into +requisition, scrubbed Gay's face and hands tenderly, but firmly. Her +clothes were then all smoothed down tidily, but the clean apron was kept +for the eventful moment when her future mother should first<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> be allowed +to behold the form of her adopted child.</p> + +<p>The comb was then brought out, and her mop of red-gold hair was assisted +to fall in wet spirals all over her lovely head, which always "wiggled" +too much for any more formal style of hair-dressing. Her Sunday hat +being tied on, as the crowning glory, this lucky little princess, this +child of Fortune, so inestimably rich in her own opinion, this daughter +of the gods, I say, was returned to the basket, where she endeavored to +keep quiet until the next piece of delightful unexpectedness should rise +from fairy-land upon her excited gaze.</p> + +<p>Timothy and Rags now went to the pump, and Rags was held under the +spout. This was a new and bitter experience, and he wished for a few +brief moments that he had never joined the noble army of deserters, but +had stayed where dirt was fashionable. Being released, the sense of +abnormal cleanliness mounted to his brain, and he tore breathlessly +round in a circle seventy-seven times without stopping. But this only +dried his hair and amused Gay, who was beginning to find the basket +confining, and who clamored for "Timfy" to take her to "yide."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>Timothy attended to himself last, as usual. He put his own head under +the pump, and scrubbed his face and hands heartily; wiping them on +his—well, he wiped them, and that is the main thing; besides, his +handkerchief had been reduced to a pulp in Gay's service. He combed his +hair, pulled up his stockings and tied his shoes neatly, buttoned his +jacket closely over his shirt, and was just pinning up the rent in his +hat, when Rags considerately brought another suggestion in the shape of +an old chicken-wing, with which he brushed every speck of dust from his +clothes. This done, and being no respecter of persons, he took the +family comb to Rags, who woke the echoes during the operation, and hoped +to the Lord that the squirrels would run slowly and that the field-mice +would be very tender, to pay him for this.</p> + +<p>It was now nearly eight o'clock, and the party descended the hillside +and entered the side door of the station.</p> + +<p>The day's work had long since begun, and there was the usual din and +uproar of railroad traffic. Trucks, laden high with boxes and barrels, +were being driven to the wide doors, and porters were thundering and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +thumping and lurching the freight from one set of cars into another; +their primary objects being to make a racket and demolish raw material, +thereby increasing manufacture and export, but incidentally to load or +unload as much freight as possible in a given time.</p> + +<p>Timothy entered, trundling his carriage, where Lady Gay sat enthroned +like a Murray Hill belle on a dog-cart, conscious pride of Sunday hat on +week-day morning exuding from every feature; and Rags followed close +behind, clean, but with a crushed spirit, which he could stimulate only +by the most seductive imaginations. No one molested them, for Timothy +was very careful not to get in any one's way. Finally, he drew up in +front of a high blackboard, on which the names of various way-stations +were printed in gold letters:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;" class="smcap">Chestertown.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;" class="smcap">Sandford.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;" class="smcap">Reedville.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;" class="smcap">Bingham.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;" class="smcap">Skaggstown.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;" class="smcap">Esbury.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;" class="smcap">Scratch Corner.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 4em;" class="smcap">Hillside.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;" class="smcap">Mountain View.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;" class="smcap">Edgewood.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;" class="smcap">Pleasant River.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"The names get nicer and nicer as you read down the line, and the +furtherest one of all is the very prettiest, so I guess we'll go there," +thought Timothy, not realizing that his choice was based on most +insecure foundations; and that, for aught he knew, the milk of human +kindness might have more cream on it at Scratch Corner than at Pleasant +River, though the latter name was certainly more attractive.</p> + +<p>Gay approved of Pleasant River, and so did Rags; and Timothy moved off +down the station to a place on the open platform where a train of cars +stood ready for starting, the engine at the head gasping and puffing and +breathing as hard as if it had an acute attack of asthma.</p> + +<p>"How much does it cost to go to Pleasant River, please?" asked Tim, +bravely, of a kind-looking man in a blue coat and brass buttons, who +stood by the cars.</p> + +<p>"This is a freight train, sonny," replied the man; "takes four hours to +get there. Better wait till 10.45; buy your ticket up in the station."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"10.45!" Tim saw visions of Mrs. Simmons speeding down upon him in hot +pursuit, kindled by Gay's disappearance into an appreciation of her +charms.</p> + +<p>The tears stood in his eyes as Gay clambered out of the basket, and +danced with impatience, exclaiming, "Gay wants to yide now! yide now! +yide now!"</p> + +<p>"Did you want to go sooner?" asked the man, who seemed to be entirely +too much interested in humanity to succeed in the railroad business. +"Well, as you seem to have consid'rable of a family on your hands, I +guess we'll take you along. Jim, unlock that car and let these children +in, and then lock it up again. It's a car we're taking up to the end of +the road for repairs, bubby, so the comp'ny 'll give you and your folks +a free ride!"</p> + +<p>Timothy thanked the man in his politest manner, and Gay pressed a piece +of moist cooky in his hand, and offered him one of her swan's-down +kisses, a favor of which she was usually as chary as if it had possessed +a market value.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to take the dog?" asked the man, as Rags darted up the +steps with sniffs and barks of ecstatic delight. "He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> ain't so handsome +but you can get another easy enough!" (Rags held his breath in suspense, +and wondered if he had been put under a roaring cataract, and then +ploughed in deep furrows with a sharp-toothed instrument of torture, +only to be left behind at last!)</p> + +<p>"That's just why I take him," said Timothy; "because he isn't handsome +and has nobody else to love him."</p> + +<p>("Not a very polite reason," thought Rags; "but anything to go!")</p> + +<p>"Well, jump in, dog and all, and they'll give you the best free ride to +the country you ever had in your life! Tell 'em it's all right, Jim;" +and the train steamed out of the depot, while the kind man waved his +bandana handkerchief until the children were out of sight.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE IV.</h2> + +<h4><i>Pleasant River.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class='hanging'>JABE SLOCUM ASSUMES THE RÔLE OF GUARDIAN ANGEL.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Jabe Slocum had been down to Edgewood, and was just returning to the +White Farm, by way of the cross-roads and Hard Scrabble school-house. He +was in no hurry, though he always had more work on hand than he could +leave undone for a month; and Maria also was taking her own time, as +usual, even stopping now and then to crop an unusually sweet tuft of +grass that grew within smelling distance, and which no mare (with a +driver like Jabe) could afford to pass without notice.</p> + +<p>Jabe was ostensibly out on an "errant" for Miss Avilda Cummins; but, as +he had been in her service for six years, she had no expectations of his +accomplishing anything beyond getting to a place and getting back in the +same day, the distance covered being no factor at all in the matter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>But one needn't go to Miss Avilda Cummins for a description of Jabe +Slocum's peculiarities. They were all so written upon his face and +figure and speech that the wayfaring man, though a fool, could not err +in his judgment. He was a long, loose, knock-kneed, slack-twisted +person, and would have been "longer yit if he hedn't hed so much turned +up for feet,"—so Aunt Hitty Tarbox said. (Aunt Hitty went from house to +house in Edgewood and Pleasant River, making over boys' clothes; and as +her tongue flew as fast as her needle, her sharp speeches were always in +circulation in both villages.)</p> + +<p>Mr. Slocum had sandy hair, high cheekbones, a pair of kindly light blue +eyes, and a most unique nose: I hardly know to what order of +architecture it belonged,—perhaps Old Colonial would describe it as +well as anything else. It was a wide, flat, well-ventilated, hospitable +edifice (so to speak), so peculiarly constructed and applied that +Samantha Ann Ripley (of whom more anon) declared that "the reason Jabe +Slocum ketched cold so easy was that, if he didn't hold his head jess +so, it kep' a-rainin' in!"</p> + +<p>His mouth was simply an enormous slit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> in his face, and served all the +purposes for which a mouth is presumably intended, save, perhaps, the +trivial one of decoration. In short (a ludicrously inappropriate word +for the subject), it was a capital medium for exits and entrances, but +no ornament to his countenance. When Rhapsena Crabb, now deceased, was +first engaged to Jabez Slocum, Aunt Hitty Tarbox said it beat her "how +Rhapseny ever got over Jabe's mouth; though she could 'a' got intew it +easy 'nough, or raound it, if she took plenty o' time." But perhaps +Rhapsena appreciated a mouth (in a husband) that never was given to +"jawin'," and which uttered only kind words during her brief span of +married life. And there was precious little leisure for kissing at +Pleasant River!</p> + +<p>As Jabe had passed the store, a few minutes before, one of the boys had +called out, facetiously, "Shet yer mouth when ye go by the deepot, +Laigs; the train's comin' in!" But he only smiled placidly, though it +was an ancient joke, the flavor of which had just fully penetrated the +rustic skull; and the villagers could not resist titillating the sense +of humor with it once or twice a month. Neither did Jabez mind being +called<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> "Laigs," the local pronunciation of the word "legs;" in fact, +his good humor was too deep to be ruffled. His "cistern of wrathfulness +was so small, and the supply pipe so unready," that it was next to +impossible to "put him out," so the natives said.</p> + +<p>He was a man of tolerable education; the only son of his parents, who +had endeavored to make great things of him, and might perhaps have +succeeded, if he hadn't always had so little time at his +disposal,—hadn't been "so drove," as he expressed it. He went to the +village school as regularly as he couldn't help, that is, as many days +as he couldn't contrive to stay away, until he was fourteen. From there +he was sent to the Academy, three miles distant; but his mother soon +found that he couldn't make the two trips a day and be "under cover by +candlelight;" so the plan of a classical education was abandoned, and he +was allowed to speed the home plough,—a profession which he pursued +with such moderation that his father, when starting him down a furrow, +used to hang his dinner-pail on his arm and, bidding him good-by, beg +him, with tears in his eyes, to be back before sun-down.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>At the present moment Jabe was enjoying a cud of Old Virginia plug +tobacco, and taking in no more of the landscape than he could avoid, +when Maria, having wound up to the top of Marm Berry's hill, in spite of +herself walked directly out on one side of the road, and stopped short +to make room for the passage of an imposing procession, made up of one +straw phaeton, one baby, one strange boy, and one strange dog.</p> + +<p>Jabe eyed the party with some placid interest, for he loved children, +but with no undue excitement. Shifting his huge quid, he inquired in his +usual leisurely manner, "Which way yer goin', bub,—t' the Swamp or t' +the Falls?"</p> + +<p>Timothy thought neither sounded especially inviting, but, rapidly +choosing the lesser evil, replied, "To the Falls, sir."</p> + +<p>"Thy way happens to be my way, 's Rewth said to Naomi; so 'f gittin' +over the road's your objeck, 'n' y' ain't pertickler 'baout the gait ye +travel, ye can git in 'n' ride a piece. We don't b'lieve in hurryin', +Mariar 'n' me. Slow 'n' easy goes fur in a day, 's our motto. Can ye git +your folks aboard withaout spillin' any of 'em?"</p> + +<p>No wonder he asked, for Gay was in such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> a wild state of excitement that +she could hardly be held.</p> + +<p>"I can lift Gay up, if you'll please take her, sir," said Timothy; "and +if you're quite sure the horse will stand still."</p> + +<p>"Bless your soul, she'll stan' all right; she likes stan'in' a heap +better 'n she doos goin'; runnin' away ain't no temptation to Maria +Cummins; let well enough alone 's her motto. Jump in, sissy! There ye +be! Now git yer baby-shay in the back of the wagon, bubby, 'n' we'll be +'s snug 's a bug in a rug."</p> + +<p>Timothy, whose creed was simple and whose beliefs were crystal clear, +now felt that his morning prayer had been heard, and that the Lord was +on his side; so he abandoned all idea of commanding the situation, and +gave himself up to the full ecstasy of the ride, as they jogged +peacefully along the river road.</p> + +<p>Gay held a piece of a rein that peeped from Jabe's colossal hand (which +was said by the villagers to cover most as much territory as the hand of +Providence), and was convinced that she was driving Maria, an idea that +made her speechless with joy.</p> + +<p>Rags' wildest dreams of squirrels came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> true; and, reconciled at length +to cleanliness, he was capering in and out of the woods, thinking what +an Arabian Nights' entertainment he would give the Minerva Court dogs +when he returned, if return he ever must to that miserable, squirrelless +hole.</p> + +<p>The meadows on the other side of the river were gorgeous with yellow +buttercups, and here and there a patch of blue iris or wild sage. The +black cherry trees were masses of snowy bloom; the water at the river's +edge held spikes of blue arrowweed in its crystal shallows; while the +roadside itself was gay with daisies and feathery grasses.</p> + +<p>In the midst of this loveliness flowed Pleasant River,</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Vexed in all its seaward course by bridges, dams, and mills,"</p></div> + +<p>but finding time, during the busy summer months, to flush its fertile +banks with beauty.</p> + +<p>Suddenly (a word that could seldom be truthfully applied to the +description of Jabe Slocum's movements) the reins were ruthlessly drawn +from Lady Gay's hands and wound about the whipstock.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Gorry!" ejaculated Mr. Slocum, "ef I hain't left the widder Foss +settin' on Aunt Hitty's hoss-block, 'n' I promised to pick her up when I +come along back! That all comes o' my drivin' by the store so fast on +account o' the boys hectorin' of me, so 't when I got to the turn I was +so kind of het up I jogged right along the straight road. Haste makes +waste 's an awful good motto. Pile out, young ones! It's only half a +mile from here to the Falls, 'n' you'll have to get there on Shank's +mare!"</p> + +<p>So saying, he dumped the astonished children into the middle of the +road, from whence he had plucked them, turned the docile mare, and with +a "Git, Mariar!" went four miles back to relieve Aunt Hitty's +horse-block from the weight of the widder Foss (which was no joke!).</p> + +<p>This turn of affairs was most unexpected, and Gay seemed on the point of +tears; but Timothy gathered her a handful of wild flowers, wiped the +dust from her face, put on the clean blue gingham apron, and established +her in the basket, where she soon fell asleep, wearied by the +excitements of the day.</p> + +<p>Timothy's heart began to be a little trou<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>bled as he walked on and on +through the leafy woods, trundling the basket behind him. Nothing had +gone wrong; indeed, everything had been much easier than he could have +hoped. Perhaps it was the weariness that had crept into his legs, and +the hollowness that began to appear in his stomach; but, somehow, +although in the morning he had expected to find Gay's new mothers +beckoning from every window, so that he could scarcely choose between +them, he now felt as if the whole race of mothers had suddenly become +extinct.</p> + +<p>Soon the village came in sight, nestled in the laps of the green hills +on both sides of the river. Timothy trudged bravely on, scanning all the +dwellings, but finding none of them just the thing. At last he turned +deliberately off the main road, where the houses seemed too near +together and too near the street, for his taste, and trundled his family +down a shady sort of avenue, over which the arching elms met and clasped +hands.</p> + +<p>Rags had by this time lowered his tail to half-mast, and kept strictly +to the beaten path, notwithstanding manifold temptations to forsake it. +He passed two cats without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> a single insulting remark, and his entire +demeanor was eloquent of nostalgia.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" sighed Timothy disconsolately; "there's something wrong with +all the places. Either there's no pigeon-house, like in all the +pictures, or no flower garden, or no chickens, or no lady at the window, +or else there's lots of baby-clothes hanging on the wash-lines. I don't +believe I shall ever find"—</p> + +<p>At this moment a large, comfortable white house, that had been +heretofore hidden by great trees, came into view. Timothy drew nearer to +the spotless picket fence, and gazed upon the beauties of the side yard +and the front garden,—gazed and gazed, and fell desperately in love at +first sight.</p> + +<p>The whole thing had been made as if to order; that is all there is to +say about it. There was an orchard, and, oh, ecstasy! what hosts of +green apples! There was an interesting grindstone under one tree, and a +bright blue chair and stool under another; a thicket of currant and +gooseberry bushes; and a flock of young turkeys ambling awkwardly +through the barn. Timothy stepped gently along in the thick grass, past +a pump and a mossy trough, till a side porch came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> into view, with a +woman sitting there sewing bright-colored rags. A row of shining tin +pans caught the sun's rays, and threw them back in a thousand glittering +prisms of light; the grasshoppers and crickets chirped sleepily in the +warm grass, and a score of tiny yellow butterflies hovered over a group +of odorous hollyhocks.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the person on the porch broke into this cheerful song, which +she pitched in so high a key and gave with such emphasis that the +crickets and grasshoppers retired by mutual consent from any further +competition, and the butterflies suspended operations for several +seconds:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I'll chase the antelope over the plain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The tiger's cob I'll bind with a chain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the wild gazelle with the silv'ry feet</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll bring to thee for a playmate sweet."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Timothy listened intently for some moments, but could not understand the +words, unless the lady happened to be in the menagerie business, which +he thought unlikely, but delightful should it prove true.</p> + +<p>His eye then fell on a little marble slab under a tree in a shady corner +of the orchard.</p> + +<p>"That's a country doorplate," he thought;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> "yes, it's got the lady's +name, 'Martha Cummins,' printed on it. Now I'll know what to call her."</p> + +<p>He crept softly on to the front side of the house. There were flower +beds, a lovable white cat snoozing on the doorsteps, and—a lady sitting +at the open window knitting!</p> + +<p>At this vision Timothy's heart beat so hard against his little jacket +that he could only stagger back to the basket, where Rags and Lady Gay +were snuggled together, fast asleep. He anxiously scanned Gay's face; +moistened his rag of a handkerchief at the only available source of +supply; scrubbed an atrocious dirt spot from the tip of her spirited +nose; and then, dragging the basket along the path leading to the front +gate, he opened it and went in, mounted the steps, plied the brass +knocker, and waited in childlike faith for a summons to enter and make +himself at home.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE V.</h2> + +<h4><i>The White Farm. Afternoon.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class='hanging'>TIMOTHY FINDS A HOUSE IN WHICH HE THINKS A BABY IS NEEDED, BUT THE +INMATES DO NOT ENTIRELY AGREE WITH HIM.</p></blockquote> + + +<p>Meanwhile, Miss Avilda Cummins had left her window and gone into the +next room for a skein of yarn. She answered the knock, however; and, +opening the door, stood rooted to the threshold in speechless +astonishment, very much as if she had seen the shades of her ancestors +drawn up in line in the dooryard.</p> + +<p>Off went Timothy's hat. He hadn't seen the lady's face very clearly when +she was knitting at the window, or he would never have dared to knock; +but it was too late to retreat. Looking straight into her cold eyes with +his own shining gray ones, he said bravely, but with a trembling voice, +"Do you need any babies here, if you please?" (Need any babies! What an +inappropriate,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> nonsensical expression, to be sure; as if a baby were +something exquisitely indispensable, like the breath of life, for +instance!)</p> + +<p>No answer. Miss Vilda was trying to assume command of her scattered +faculties and find some clue to the situation. Timothy concluded that +she was not, after all, the lady of the house; and, remembering the +marble doorplate in the orchard, tried again. "Does Miss Martha Cummins +live here, if you please?" (Oh, Timothy! what induced you, in this +crucial moment of your life, to touch upon that sorest spot in Miss +Vilda's memory?)</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"I want to get somebody to adopt my baby," he said; "if you haven't got +any of your own, you couldn't find one half as dear and as pretty as she +is; and you needn't have me too, you know, unless you should need me to +help take care of her."</p> + +<p>"You're very kind," Miss Avilda answered sarcastically, preparing to +shut the door upon the strange child; "but I don't think I care to adopt +any babies this afternoon, thank you. You'd better run right back home +to your mother, if you've got one, and know where 't is, anyhow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I—haven't!" cried poor Timothy, with a sudden and unpremeditated burst +of tears at the failure of his hopes; for he was half child as well as +half hero. At this juncture Gay opened her eyes, and burst into a wild +howl at the unwonted sight of Timothy's grief; and Rags, who was full of +exquisite sensibility, and quite ready to weep with those who did weep, +lifted up his woolly head and added his piteous wails to the concert. It +was a <i>tableau vivant</i>.</p> + +<p>"Samanthy Ann!" called Miss Vilda excitedly; "Samanthy Ann! Come right +here and tell me what to do!"</p> + +<p>The person thus adjured flew in from the porch, leaving a serpentine +trail of red, yellow, and blue rags in her wake. "Land o' liberty!" she +exclaimed, as she surveyed the group. "Where'd they come from, and what +air they tryin' to act out?"</p> + +<p>"This boy's a baby agent, as near as I can make out; he wants I should +adopt this red-headed baby, but says I ain't obliged to take him too, +and makes out they haven't got any home. I told him I wa'n't adoptin' +any babies just now, and at that he burst out cryin', and the other two +followed suit. Now, have the three of 'em just escaped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> from some +asylum, or are they too little to be lunatics?"</p> + +<p>Timothy dried his tears, in order that Gay should be comforted and +appear at her best, and said penitently: "I cried before I thought, +because Gay hasn't had anything but cookies since last night, and she'll +have no place to sleep unless you'll let us stay here just till morning. +We went by all the other houses, and chose this one because everything +was so beautiful."</p> + +<p>"Nothin' but cookies sence—Land o' liberty!" ejaculated Samantha Ann, +starting for the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Come back here, Samanthy! Don't you leave me alone with 'em, and don't +let's have all the neighbors runnin' in; you take 'em into the kitchen +and give 'em somethin' to eat, and we'll see about the rest afterwards."</p> + +<p>Gay kindled at the first casual mention of food; and, trying to clamber +out of the basket, fell over the edge, thumping her head smartly on the +stone steps. Miss Vilda covered her face with her hands, and waited +shudderingly for another yell, as the child's carnation stocking and +terra-cotta head mingled wildly in the air. But Lady Gay dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>entangled +herself, and laughed the merriest burst of laughter that ever woke the +echoes. That was a joke; her life was full of them, served fresh every +day; for no sort of adversity could long have power over such a nature +as hers. "Come get supper," she cooed, putting her hand in Samantha's; +adding that the "nasty lady needn't come," a remark that happily escaped +detection, as it was rendered in very unintelligible "early English."</p> + +<p>Miss Avilda tottered into the darkened sitting-room and sank on to a +black haircloth sofa, while Samantha ushered the wanderers into the +sunny kitchen, muttering to herself: "Wall, I vow! travelin' over the +country all alone, 'n' not knee-high to a toad! They're send in' out +awful young tramps this season, but they sha'n't go away hungry, if I +know it."</p> + +<p>Accordingly, she set out a plentiful supply of bread and butter, +gingerbread, pie, and milk, put a tin plate of cold hash in the shed for +Rags, and swept him out to it with a corn broom; and, telling the +children comfortably to cram their "everlastin' little bread-baskets +full," returned to the sitting-room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now, whatever makes you so panicky, Vildy? Didn't you never see a tramp +before, for pity's sake? And if you're scar't for fear I can't handle +'em alone, why, Jabe 'll be comin' along soon. The prospeck of gittin' +to bed's the only thing that'll make him 'n' Maria hurry; 'n' they'll +both be cal'latin' on that by this time!"</p> + +<p>"Samanthy Ann, the first question that that boy asked me was, 'If Miss +Martha Cummins lived here.' Now, what do you make of that?"</p> + +<p>Samantha looked as astonished as anybody could wish. "Asked if Marthy +Cummins lived here? How under the canopy did he ever hear Marthy's name? +Wall, somebody told him to ask, that's all there is about it; and what +harm was there in it, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know, I don't know; but the minute that boy looked up at me +and asked for Martha Cummins, the old trouble, that I thought was dead +and buried years ago, started right up in my heart and begun to ache +just as if it all happened yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Now keep stiddy, Vildy; what could happen?" urged Samantha.</p> + +<p>"Why, it flashed across my mind in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> minute," and here Miss Vilda +lowered her voice to a whisper, "that perhaps Martha's baby didn't die, +as they told her."</p> + +<p>"But, land o' liberty, s'posin' it didn't! Poor Marthy died herself more +'n twenty years ago."</p> + +<p>"I know; but supposing her baby didn't die; and supposing it grew up and +died, and left this little girl to roam round the world afoot and +alone?"</p> + +<p>"You're cal'latin' dreadful close, 'pears to me; now, don't go s'posin' +any more things. You're makin' out one of them yellow-covered books, +sech as the summer boarders bring out here to read; always chock full of +doin's that never would come to pass in this or any other Christian +country. You jest lay down and snuff your camphire, an' I'll go out an' +pump that boy drier 'n a sand heap!"<br /><br /></p> + + +<p>Now, Miss Avilda Cummins was unmarried by every implication of her +being, as Henry James would say: but Samantha Ann Ripley was a spinster +purely by accident. She had seldom been exposed to the witcheries of +children, or she would have known long before this that, so far as she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +was personally concerned, they would always prove irresistible. She +marched into the kitchen like a general resolved upon the extinction of +the enemy. She walked out again, half an hour later, with the very teeth +of her resolve drawn, but so painlessly that she had not been aware of +the operation! She marched in a woman of a single purpose; she came out +a double-faced diplomatist, with the seeds of sedition and conspiracy +lurking, all unsuspected, in her heart.</p> + +<p>The cause? Nothing more than a dozen trifles as "light as air." Timothy +had sat upon a little wooden stool at her feet; and, resting his arms on +her knees, had looked up into her kind, rosy face with a pair of liquid +eyes like gray-blue lakes, eyes which seemed and were the very windows +of his soul. He had sat there telling his wee bit of a story; just a +vague, shadowy, plaintive, uncomplaining scrap of a story, without +beginning, plot, or ending, but every word in it set Samantha Ann +Ripley's heart throbbing.</p> + +<p>And Gay, who knew a good thing when she saw it, had climbed up into her +capacious lap, and, not being denied, had cuddled her head into that +"gracious hollow" in Sa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>mantha's shoulder, that had somehow missed the +pressure of the childish heads that should have lain there. Then +Samantha's arm had finally crept round the wheedlesome bit of soft +humanity, and before she knew it her chair was swaying gently to and +fro, to and fro, to and fro; and the wooden rockers creaked more sweetly +than ever they had creaked before, for they were singing their first +cradle song!</p> + +<p>Then Gay heaved a great sigh of unspeakable satisfaction, and closed her +lovely eyes. She had been born with a desire to be cuddled, and had had +precious little experience of it. At the sound of this happy sigh and +the sight of the child's flower face, with the upward curling lashes on +the pink cheeks and the moist tendrils of hair on the white forehead, +and the helpless, clinging touch of the baby arm about her neck, I +cannot tell you the why or wherefore, but old memories and new desires +began to stir in Samantha Ann Ripley's heart. In short, she had met the +enemy, and she was theirs!</p> + +<p>Presently Gay was laid upon the old-fashioned settle, and Samantha +stationed herself where she could keep the flies off her by waving a +palm-leaf fan.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now, there's one thing more I want you to tell me," said she, after she +had possessed herself of Timothy's unhappy past, uncertain present, and +still more dubious future; "and that is, what made you ask for Miss +Marthy Cummins when you come to the door?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I thought it was the lady-of-the-house's name," said Timothy; "I +saw it on her doorplate."</p> + +<p>"But we ain't got any doorplate, to begin with."</p> + +<p>"Not a silver one on your door, like they have in the city; but isn't +that white marble piece in the yard a doorplate? It's got 'Martha +Cummins, aged 17,' on it. I thought may be in the country they had them +in their gardens; only I thought it was queer they put their ages on +them, because they'd have to be scratched out every little while, +wouldn't they?"</p> + +<p>"My grief!" ejaculated Samantha; "for pity's sake, don't you know a +tombstun when you see it?"</p> + +<p>"No; what is a tombstun?"</p> + +<p>"Land sakes! what do you know, any way? Didn't you never see a graveyard +where folks is buried?"</p> + +<p>"I never went to the graveyard, but I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> know where it is, and I know +about people's being buried. Flossy is going to be buried. And so the +white stone shows the places where the people are put, and tells their +names, does it? Why, it is a kind of a doorplate, after all, don't you +see? Who is Martha Cummins, aged 17?"</p> + +<p>"She was Miss Vildy's sister, and she went to the city, and then come +home and died here, long years ago. Miss Vildy set great store by her, +and can't bear to have her name spoke; so remember what I say. Now, this +'Flossy' you tell me about (of all the fool names I ever hearn tell of, +that beats all,—sounds like a wax doll, with her clo'se sewed on!), was +she a young woman?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether she was young or not," said Tim, in a puzzled +tone. "She had young yellow hair, and very young shiny teeth, white as +china; but her neck was crackled underneath, like Miss Vilda's;—it had +no kissing places in it like Gay's."</p> + +<p>"Well, you stay here in the kitchen a spell now, 'n' don't let in that +rag-dog o' yourn till he stops scratching if he keeps it up till the +crack o' doom;—he's got to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> learned better manners. Now, I'll go in +'n' talk to Miss Vildy. She may keep you over night, 'n' she may not; I +ain't noways sure. You started in wrong foot foremost."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE VI.</h2> + +<h4><i>The White Farm. Evening.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class='hanging'>TIMOTHY, LADY GAY, AND RAGS PROVE FAITHFUL TO EACH OTHER.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Samantha went into the sitting-room and told the whole story to Miss +Avilda; told it simply and plainly, for she was not given to arabesques +in language, and then waited for a response.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you advise doin'?" asked Miss Cummins nervously.</p> + +<p>"I don't feel comp'tent to advise, Vilda; the house ain't mine, nor yet +the beds that's in it, nor the victuals in the butt'ry; but as a +professin' Christian and member of the Orthodox Church in good and +reg'lar standin' you can't turn 'em ou'doors when it's comin' on dark +and they ain't got no place to sleep."</p> + +<p>"Plenty of good Orthodox folks turned their backs on Martha when she was +in trouble."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There may be Orthodox hogs, for all I know," replied the blunt +Samantha, who frequently called spades shovels in her search after +absolute truth of statement, "but that ain't no reason why we should +copy after 'em 's I know of."</p> + +<p>"I don't propose to take in two strange children and saddle myself with +'em for days, or weeks, perhaps," said Miss Cummins coldly, "but I tell +you what I will do. Supposing we send the boy over to Squire Bean's. +It's near hayin' time, and he may take him in to help round and do +chores. Then we'll tell him before he goes that we'll keep the baby as +long as he gets a chance to work anywheres near. That will give us a +chance to look round for some place for 'em and find out whether they've +told us the truth."</p> + +<p>"And if Squire Bean won't take him?" asked Samantha, with as much cold +indifference as she could assume.</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose there's nothing for it but he must come back here and +sleep. I'll go out and tell him so,—I declare I feel as weak as if I'd +had a spell of sickness!"</p> + +<p>Timothy bore the news better than Samantha had feared. Squire Bean's +farm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> did not look so very far away; his heart was at rest about Gay and +he felt that he could find a shelter for himself somewhere.</p> + +<p>"Now, how'll the baby act when she wakes up and finds you're gone?" +inquired Miss Vilda anxiously, as Timothy took his hat and bent down to +kiss the sleeping child.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know exactly," answered Timothy, "because she's always +had me, you see. But I guess she'll be all right, now that she knows you +a little, and if I can see her every day. She never cries except once in +a long while when she gets mad; and if you're careful how you behave, +she'll hardly ever get mad at you."</p> + +<p>"Well I vow!" exclaimed Miss Vilda with a grim glance at Samantha, "I +guess she'd better do the behavin'."</p> + +<p>So Timothy was shown the way across the fields to Squire Bean's. +Samantha accompanied him to the back gate, where she gave him three +doughnuts and a sneaking kiss, watching him out of sight under the +pretense of taking the towels and napkins off the grass.<br /><br /></p> + + +<p>It was nearly nine o'clock and quite dark when Timothy stole again to +the little gate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> of the White Farm. The feet that had traveled so +courageously over the mile walk to Squire Bean's had come back again +slowly and wearily; for it is one thing to be shod with the sandals of +hope, and quite another to tread upon the leaden soles of +disappointment.</p> + +<p>He leaned upon the white picket gate listening to the chirp of the frogs +and looking at the fireflies as they hung their gleaming lamps here and +there in the tall grass. Then he crept round to the side door, to +implore the kind offices of the mediator before he entered the presence +of the judge whom he assumed to be sitting in awful state somewhere in +the front part of the house. He lifted the latch noiselessly and +entered. Oh horror! Miss Avilda herself was sprinkling clothes at the +great table on one side of the room. There was a moment of silence.</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't have me," said Timothy simply, "he said I wasn't big enough +yet. I offered him Gay, too, but he didn't want her either, and if you +please, I would rather sleep on the sofa so as not to be any more +trouble."</p> + +<p>"You won't do any such thing," re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>sponded Miss Vilda briskly. "You've +got a royal welcome this time sure, and I guess you can earn your +lodging fast enough. You hear that?" and she opened the door that led +into the upper part of the house.</p> + +<p>A piercing shriek floated down into the kitchen, and another on the +heels of that, and then another. Every drop of blood in Timothy's spare +body rushed to his pale grave face. "Is she being whipped?" he +whispered, with set lips.</p> + +<p>"No; she needs it bad enough, but we ain't savages. She's only got the +pretty temper that matches her hair, just as you said. I guess we +haven't been behavin' to suit her."</p> + +<p>"Can I go up? She'll stop in a minute when she sees me. She never went +to bed without me before, and truly, truly, she's not a cross baby!"</p> + +<p>"Come right along and welcome; just so long as she has to stay you're +invited to visit with her. Land sakes! the neighbors will think we're +killin' pigs!" and Miss Vilda started upstairs to show Timothy the way.</p> + +<p>Gay was sitting up in bed and the faithful Samantha Ann was seated +beside her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> with a lapful of useless bribes,—apples, seed-cakes, an +illustrated Bible, a thermometer, an ear of red corn, and a large +stuffed green bird, the glory of the "keeping room" mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>But a whole aviary of highly colored songsters would not have assuaged +Gay's woe at that moment. Every effort at conciliation was met with the +one plaint: "I want my Timfy! I want my Timfy!"</p> + +<p>At the first sight of the beloved form, Gay flung the sacred bird into +the furthest corner of the room and burst into a wild sob of delight, as +she threw herself into Timothy's loving arms.</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes later peace had descended on the troubled homestead, and +Samantha went into the sitting-room and threw herself into the depths of +the high-backed rocker. "Land o' liberty! perhaps I ain't het-up!" she +ejaculated, as she wiped the sweat of honest toil from her brow and +fanned herself vigorously with her apron. "I tell you what, at five +o'clock I was dreadful sorry I hadn't took Dave Milliken, but now I'm +plaguey glad I didn't! Still" (and here she tried to smooth the green +bird's ruffled plumage and restore him to his perch under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> the revered +glass case), "still, children will be children."</p> + +<p>"Some of 'em's considerable more like wild cats," said Miss Avilda +briefly.</p> + +<p>"You just go upstairs now, and see if you find anything that looks like +wild cats; but 't any rate, wild cats or tame cats, we would n't dass +turn 'em ou'doors this time o' night for fear of flyin' in the face of +Providence. If it's a stint He's set us, I don't see but we've got to +work it out somehow."</p> + +<p>"I'd rather have some other stint."</p> + +<p>"To be sure!" retorted Samantha vigorously. "I never see anybody yet +that didn't want to pick out her own stint; but mebbe if we got just the +one we wanted it wouldn't be no stint! Land o' liberty, what's that!"</p> + +<p>There was a crash of falling tin pans, and Samantha flew to investigate +the cause. About ten minutes later she returned, more heated than ever, +and threw herself for the second time into the high-backed rocker.</p> + +<p>"That dog's been givin' me a chase, I can tell you! He clawed and +scratched so in the shed that I put him in the wood-house; and he went +and clim' up on that carpen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>ter's bench, and pitched out that little +winder at the top, and fell on to the milk-pan shelf and scattered every +last one of 'em, and then upsot all my cans of termatter plants. But I +couldn't find him, high nor low. All to once I see by the dirt on the +floor that he'd squirmed himself through the skeeter-nettin' door int' +the house, and then I surmised where he was. Sure enough, I crep' +upstairs and there he was, layin' between the two children as snug as +you please. He was snorin' like a pirate when I found him, but when I +stood over the bed with a candle I could see 't his wicked little eyes +was wide open, and he was jest makin' b'lieve sleep in hopes I'd leave +him where he was. Well, I yanked him out quicker 'n scat, 'n' locked him +in the old chicken house, so I guess he'll stay out, now. For folks that +claim to be no blood relation, I declare him 'n' the boy 'n' the baby +beats anything I ever come across for bein' fond of one 'nother!"</p> + +<p>There were dreams at the White Farm that night. Timothy went to sleep +with a prayer on his lips; a prayer that God would excuse him for +speaking of Martha's doorplate, and a most imploring postscript to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +effect that God would please make Miss Vilda into a mother for Gay; +thinking as he floated off into the land of Nod, "It'll be awful hard +work, but I don't suppose He cares how hard 't is!"</p> + +<p>Lady Gay dreamed of driving beautiful white horses beside sparkling +waters ... and through flowery meadows ... And great green birds perched +on all the trees and flew towards her as if to peck the cherries of her +lips ... but when she tried to beat them off they all turned into +Timothys and she hugged them close to her heart ...</p> + +<p>Rags' visions were gloomy, for he knew not whether the Lady with the +Firm Hand would free him from his prison in the morning, or whether he +was there for all time ... But there were intervals of bliss when his +fancies took a brighter turn ... when Hope smiled ... and he bit the +white cat's tail ... and chased the infant turkeys ... and found sweet, +juicy, delicious bones in unexpected places ... and even inhaled, in +exquisite anticipation, the fragrance of one particularly succulent bone +that he had hidden under Miss Vilda's bed.</p> + +<p>Sleep carried Samantha so many years back into the past that she heard +the blithe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> din of carpenters hammering and sawing on a little house +that was to be hers, his, <i>theirs</i>. ... And as she watched them, with +all sorts of maidenly hopes about the home that was to be ... some one +stole up behind and caught her at it, and she ran away blushing ... and +some one followed her ... and they watched the carpenters together. ... +Somebody else lived in the little house now, and Samantha never blushed +any more, but that part was mercifully hidden in the dream.</p> + +<p>Miss Vilda's slumber was troubled. She seemed to be walking through +peaceful meadows, brown with autumn, when all at once there rose in the +path steep hills and rocky mountains ... She felt too tired and too old +to climb, but there was nothing else to be done ... And just as she +began the toilsome ascent, a little child appeared, and catching her +helplessly by the skirts implored to be taken with her ... And she +refused and went on alone ... but, miracle of miracles, when she reached +the crest of the first hill the child was there before her, still +beseeching to be carried ... And again she refused, and again she +wearily climbed the heights alone, always meeting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> the child when she +reached their summits, and always enacting the same scene.... At last +she cried in despair, "Ask me no more, for I have not even strength +enough for my own needs!" ... And the child said, "I will help you;" and +straightway crept into her arms and nestled there as one who would not +be denied ... and she took up her burden and walked.... And as she +climbed the weight grew lighter and lighter, till at length the clinging +arms seemed to give her peace and strength ... and when she neared the +crest of the highest mountain she felt new life throbbing in her veins +and new hopes stirring in her heart, and she remembered no more the pain +and weariness of her journey.... And all at once a bright angel appeared +to her and traced the letters of a word upon her forehead and took the +child from her arms and disappeared.... And the angel had the lovely +smile and sad eyes of Martha ... and the word she traced on Miss Vilda's +forehead was "Inasmuch"!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE VII.</h2> + +<h4><i>The Old Homestead.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class='hanging'>MISTRESS AND MAID FIND TO THEIR AMAZEMENT THAT A CHILD, MORE THAN ALL +OTHER GIFTS, BRINGS HOPE WITH IT AND FORWARD LOOKING THOUGHTS.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>It was called the White Farm, not because that was an unusual color in +Pleasant River. Nineteen out of every twenty houses in the village were +painted white, for it had not then entered the casual mind that any +other course was desirable or possible. Occasionally, a man of riotous +imagination would substitute two shades of buff, or make the back of his +barn red, but the spirit of invention stopped there, and the majority of +sane people went on painting white. But Miss Avilda Cummins was blessed +with a larger income than most of the inhabitants of Pleasant River, and +all her buildings, the great house, the sheds, the carriage and dairy +houses, the fences and the barn, were always kept in a state of dazzling +purity;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> "as if," the neighbors declared, "S'manthy Ann Ripley went over +'em every morning with a dust-cloth."</p> + +<p>It was merely an accident that the carriage and work horses chanced to +be white, and that the original white cats of the family kept on having +white kittens to decorate the front doorsteps. It was not accident, +however, but design, that caused Jabe Slocum to scour the country for a +good white cow and persuade Miss Cummins to swap off the old red one, so +that the "critters" in the barn should match.</p> + +<p>Miss Avilda had been born at the White Farm; father and mother had been +taken from there to the old country churchyard, and "Martha, aged 17," +poor, pretty, willful Martha, the greatest pride and greatest sorrow of +the family, was lying under the apple trees in the garden.</p> + +<p>Here also the little Samantha Ann Ripley had come as a child years ago, +to be playmate, nurse, and companion to Martha, and here she had stayed +ever since, as friend, adviser, and "company-keeper" to the lonely Miss +Cummins. Nobody in Pleasant River would have dared to think of her as +anybody's "hired help," though she did receive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> bed and board, and a +certain sum yearly for her services; but she lived with Miss Cummins on +equal terms, as was the custom in the good old New England villages, +doing the lion's share of the work, and marking her sense of the +situation by washing the dishes while Miss Avilda wiped them, and by +never suffering her to feed the pig or go down cellar.</p> + +<p>Theirs had been a dull sort of life, in which little had happened to +make them grow into sympathy with the outside world. All the sweetness +of Miss Avilda's nature had turned to bitterness and gall after Martha's +disgrace, sad home-coming, and death. There had been much to forgive, +and she had not had the grace nor the strength to forgive it until it +was too late. The mystery of death had unsealed her eyes, and there had +been a moment when the sad and bitter woman might have been drawn closer +to the great Father-heart, there to feel the throb of a Divine +compassion that would have sweetened the trial and made the burden +lighter. But the minister of the parish proved a sorry comforter and +adviser in these hours of trial. The Reverend Joshua Beckwith, whose +view of God's uni<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>verse was about as broad as if he had lived on the +inside of his own pork-barrel, had cherished certain strong and +unrelenting opinions concerning Martha's final destination, which were +not shared by Miss Cummins. Martha, therefore, was not laid with the +elect, but was put to rest in the orchard, under the kindly, +untheological shade of the apple trees; and they scattered their tinted +blossoms over her little white headstone, shed their fragrance about her +quiet grave, and dropped their ruddy fruit in the high grass that +covered it, just as tenderly and respectfully as if they had been +regulation willows. The Reverend Joshua thus succeeded in drying up the +springs of human sympathy in Miss Avilda's heart when most she needed +comfort and gentle teaching; and, distrusting God for the moment, as +well as his inexorable priest, she left her place in the old +meeting-house where she had "worshiped" ever since she had acquired +adhesiveness enough to stick to a pew, and was not seen there again for +many years. The Reverend Joshua had died, as all men must and as most +men should; and a mild-voiced successor reigned in his place; so the +Cummins pew was occupied once more.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<p>Samantha Ann Ripley had had her heart history too,—one of a different +kind. She had "kept company" with David Milliken for a little matter of +twenty years, off and on, and Miss Avilda had expected at various times +to lose her friend and helpmate; but fear of this calamity had at length +been quite put to rest by the fourth and final rupture of the bond, five +years before.</p> + +<p>There had always been a family feud between the Ripleys and the +Millikens; and when the young people took it into their heads to fall in +love with each other in spite of precedent or prejudice, they found that +the course of true love ran in anything but a smooth channel. It was, in +fact, a sort of village Montague and Capulet affair; but David and +Samantha were no Romeo and Juliet. The climate and general conditions of +life at Pleasant River were not favorable to the development of such +exotics. The old people interposed barriers between the young ones as +long as they lived; and when they died, Dave Milliken's spirit was +broken, and he began to annoy the valiant Samantha by what she called +his "meechin'" ways. In one of his moments of weakness he took a widowed +sister to live with him, a certain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> Mrs. Pettigrove, of Edgewood, who +inherited the Milliken objection to Ripleys, and who widened the breach +and brought Samantha to the point of final and decisive rupture. The +last straw was the statement, sown broadcast by Mrs. Pettigrove, that +"Samanthy Ann Ripley's father never would 'a' died if he'd ever had any +doctorin'; but 't was the gospel truth that they never had nobody to +'tend him but a hom'pathy man from Scratch Corner, who, of course, bein' +a hom'path, didn't know no more about doctorin' 'n Cooper's cow."</p> + +<p>Samantha told David after this that she didn't want to hear him open his +mouth again, nor none of his folks; that she was through with the whole +lot of 'em forever and ever, 'n' she wished to the Lord she'd had sense +enough to put her foot down fifteen years ago, 'n' she hoped he'd enjoy +bein' tread underfoot for the rest of his natural life, 'n' she wouldn't +speak to him again if she met him in her porridge dish. She then +slammed the door and went upstairs to cry as if she were sixteen, as she +watched him out of sight. Poor Dave Milliken! just sweet and earnest and +strong enough to suffer at being worsted by circumstances,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> but never +quite strong enough to conquer them.</p> + +<p>And it was to this household that Timothy had brought his child for +adoption.<br /><br /></p> + + +<p>When Miss Avilda opened her eyes, the morning after the arrival of the +children, she tried to remember whether anything had happened to give +her such a strange feeling of altered conditions. It was +Saturday,—baking day,—that couldn't be it; and she gazed at the little +dimity-curtained window and at the picture of the Death-bed of Calvin, +and wondered what was the matter.</p> + +<p>Just then a child's laugh, bright, merry, tuneful, infectious, rang out +from some distant room, and it all came back to her as Samantha Ann +opened the door and peered in.</p> + +<p>"I've got breakfast 'bout ready," she said; "but I wish, soon 's you're +dressed, you'd step down 'n' see to it, 'n' let me wash the baby. I +guess water was skerse where she come from!"</p> + +<p>"They're awake, are they?"</p> + +<p>"Awake? Land o' liberty! As soon as 't was light, and before the boy had +opened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> his eyes, Gay was up 'n' poundin' on all the doors, 'n' +hollorin' 'S'manfy' (beats all how she got holt o' my name so quick!), +so 't I thought sure she'd disturb your sleep. See here, Vildy, we want +those children should look respectable the few days they're here. I +don't see how we can rig out the boy, but there's those old things of +Marthy's in the attic; seems like it might be a blessin' on 'em if we +used 'em this way."</p> + +<p>"I thought of it myself in the night," answered Vilda briefly. "You'll +find the key of the trunk in the light stand drawer. You see to the +children, and I'll get breakfast on the table. Has Jabe come?"</p> + +<p>"No; he sent a boy to milk, 'n' said he'd be right along. You know what +that means!"</p> + +<p>Miss Vilda moved about the immaculate kitchen, frying potatoes and +making tea, setting on extra portions of bread and doughnuts and a huge +pitcher of milk; while various noises, strange enough in that quiet +house, floated down from above.</p> + +<p>"This is dreadful hard on Samanthy," she reflected. "I don't know 's I'd +ought to have put it on her, knowing how she hates confusion and +company, and all that;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> but she seemed to think we'd got to tough it out +for a spell, any way; though I don't expect her temper 'll stand the +strain very long."</p> + +<p>The fact was, Samantha was banging doors and slatting tin pails about +furiously to keep up an ostentatious show of ill humor. She tried her +best to grunt with displeasure when Gay, seated in a wash-tub, crowed +and beat the water with her dimpled hands, so that it splashed all over +the carpet; but all the time there was such a joy tugging at her +heart-strings as they had not felt for years.</p> + +<p>When the bath was over, clean petticoats and ankle-ties were chosen out +of the old leather trunk, and finally a little blue and white lawn +dress. It was too long in the skirt, and pending the moment when +Samantha should "take a tack in it," it anticipated the present fashion, +and made Lady Gay look more like a disguised princess than ever. The +gown was low-necked and short-sleeved, in the old style; and Samantha +was in despair till she found some little embroidered muslin capes and +full undersleeves, with which she covered Gay's pink neck and arms. +These things of beauty so wrought upon the child's excitable nature that +she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> could hardly keep still long enough to have her hair curled; and +Samantha, as the shining rings dropped off her horny forefinger, was +wrestling with the Evil One, in the shape of a little box of jewelry +that she had found with the clothing. She knew that the wish was a +vicious one, and that such gewgaws were out of place on a little pauper +just taken in for the night; but her fingers trembled with a desire to +fasten the little gold ears of corn on the shoulders, or tie the strings +of coral beads round the child's pretty throat.</p> + +<p>When the toilet was completed, and Samantha was emptying the tub, Gay +climbed on the bureau and imprinted sloppy kisses of sincere admiration +on the radiant reflection of herself in the little looking-glass; then, +getting down again, she seized her heap of Minerva Court clothes, and, +before the astonished Samantha could interpose, flung them out of the +second-story window, where they fell on the top of the lilac bushes.</p> + +<p>"Me doesn't like nasty old dress," she explained, with a dazzling smile +that was a justification in itself; "me likes pretty new dress!" and +then, with one hand reaching<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> up to the door-knob, and the other +throwing disarming kisses to Samantha,—"By-by! Lady Gay go circus now! +Timfy, come, take Lady Gay to circus!"</p> + +<p>There was no time for discipline then, and she was borne to the +breakfast-table, where Timothy was already making acquaintance with Miss +Vilda.</p> + +<p>Samantha entered, and Vilda, glancing at her nervously, perceived with +relief that she was "taking things easy." Ah! but it was lucky for poor +David Milliken that he couldn't see her at that moment. Her whole face +had relaxed; her mouth was no longer a thin, hard line, but had a +certain curve and fullness, borrowed perhaps from the warmth of innocent +baby-kisses. Embarrassment and stifled joy had brought a rosier color to +her cheek; Gay's vandal hand had ruffled the smoothness of her sandy +locks, so that a few stray hairs were absolutely curling with amazement +that they had escaped from their sleek bondage; in a word, Samantha Ann +Ripley was lovely and lovable!</p> + +<p>Timothy had no eyes for any one save his beloved Gay, at whom he gazed +with unspeakable admiration, thinking it impossible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> that any human +being, with a single eye in its head, could refuse to take such an angel +when it was in the market.</p> + +<p>Gay, not being used to a regular morning toilet, had fought against it +valiantly at first; but the tonic of the bath itself and the exercise of +war had brought the color to her cheeks and the brightness to her eyes. +She had forgiven Samantha, she was ready to be on good terms with Miss +Vilda, she was at peace with all the world. That she was eating the +bread of dependence did not trouble her in the least! No royal visitor, +conveying honor by her mere presence, could have carried off a delicate +situation with more distinguished grace and ease. She was perched on a +Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, and immediately began blowing bubbles +in her mug of milk in the most reprehensible fashion; and glancing up +after each naughty effort with an irrepressible gurgle of laughter, in +which she looked so bewitching, even with a milky crescent over her red +mouth, that she would have melted the heart of the most predestinate old +misogynist in Christendom.</p> + +<p>Timothy was not so entirely at his ease. His eyes had looked into life +only a few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> more summers, but their "radiant morning visions" had been +dispelled; experience had tempered joy. Gay, however, had not arrived at +an age where people's motives can be suspected for an instant. If there +had been any possible plummet with which to sound the depths of her +unconscious philosophy, she apparently looked upon herself as a guest +out of heaven, flung down upon this hospitable planet with the single +responsibility of enjoying its treasures.</p> + +<p>O happy heart of childhood! Your simple creed is rich in faith, and +trust, and hope. You have not learned that the children of a common +Father can do aught but love and help each other.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE VIII.</h2> + +<h4><i>The Old Garden.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class='hanging'>JABE AND SAMANTHA EXCHANGE HOSTILITIES, AND THE FORMER SAYS A GOOD WORD +FOR THE LITTLE WANDERERS.</p></blockquote> + + +<p>"God Almighty first planted a garden, and it is indeed the purest of all +human pleasures," said Lord Bacon, and Miss Vilda would have agreed with +him. Her garden was not simply the purest of all her pleasures, it was +her only one; and the love that other people gave to family, friends, or +kindred she lavished on her posies.</p> + +<p>It was a dear, old-fashioned, odorous garden, where Dame Nature had +never been forced but only assisted to do her duty. Miss Vilda sowed her +seeds in the springtime wherever there chanced to be room, and they came +up and flourished and went to seed just as they liked, those being the +only duties required of them. Two splendid groups of fringed "pinies," +the pride of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> Miss Avilda's heart, grew just inside the gate, and hard +by the handsomest dahlias in the village, quilled beauties like carved +rosettes of gold and coral and ivory. There was plenty of feathery +"sparrowgrass," so handy to fill the black and yawning chasms of summer +fireplaces and furnish green for "boquets." There was a stray peach or +greengage tree here and there, and if a plain, well-meaning carrot +chanced to lift its leaves among the poppies, why, they were all the +children of the same mother, and Miss Vilda was not the woman to root +out the invader and fling it into the ditch. There was a bed of yellow +tomatoes, where, in the season, a hundred tiny golden balls hung among +the green leaves; and just beside them, in friendly equality, a tangle +of pink sweet-williams, fragrant phlox, delicate bride's-tears, +canterbury bells blue as the June sky, none-so-pretties, gay cockscombs, +and flaunting marigolds, which would insist on coming up all together, +summer after summer, regardless of color harmonies. Last, but not least, +there was a patch of sweet peas,</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">"on tiptoe for a flight,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white."</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>These dispensed their sweet odors so generously that it was a favorite +diversion among the village children to stand in rows outside the fence, +and, elevating their bucolic noses, simultaneously "sniff Miss Cummins' +peas." The garden was large enough to have little hills and dales of its +own, and its banks sloped gently down to the river. There was a gnarled +apple tree hidden by a luxuriant wild grapevine, a fit bower for a +"lov'd Celia" or a "fair Rosamond." There was a spring, whose crystal +waters were "cabined, cribbed, confined" within a barrel sunk in the +earth; a brook singing its way among the alder bushes, and dripping here +and there into pools, over which the blue harebells leaned to see +themselves. There was a summer-house, too, on the brink of the hill; a +weather-stained affair, with a hundred names carved on its venerable +lattices,—names of youths and maidens who had stood there in the +moonlight and plighted rustic vows.</p> + +<p>If you care to feel a warm glow in the region of your heart, imagine +little Timothy Jessup sent to play in that garden,—sent to play for +almost the first time in his life! Imagine it, I ask, for there are some +things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> too sweet to prick with a pen-point. Timothy stayed there +fifteen minutes, and running back to the house in a state of intoxicated +delight went up to Samantha, and laying an insistent hand on hers said +excitedly, "Oh, Samanthy, you didn't tell me—there is shining water +down in the garden; not so big as the ocean, nor so still as the harbor, +but a kind of baby river running along by itself with the sweetest +noise. Please, Miss Vilda, may I take Gay to see it, and will it hurt it +if I wash Rags in it?"</p> + +<p>"Let 'em all go," suggested Samantha; "there's Jabe dawdlin' along the +road, and they might as well be out from under foot."</p> + +<p>"Don't be too hard on Jabe this morning, Samanthy,—he's been to see the +Baptist minister at Edgewood; you know he's going to be baptized some +time next month."</p> + +<p>"Well, he needs it! But land sakes! you couldn't make them Slocums pious +'f you kep' on baptizin' of 'em till the crack o' doom. I never hearn +tell of a Slocum's gittin' baptized in July. They allers take 'em after +the freshets in the spring o' the year, 'n' then they have to be +turrible careful to douse 'em lengthways of the river. Look at him, will +ye? I b'lieve he's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> grown sence yesterday! If he'd ever stood stiff on +his feet when he was a boy, he needn't 'a' been so everlastin' tall; but +he was forever roostin' on fences' with his laigs danglin', 'n' the heft +of his feet stretched 'em out,—it couldn't do no dif'rent. I ain't got +no patience with him."</p> + +<p>"Jabe has considerable many good points," said Miss Cummins loyally; +"he's faithful,—you always know where to find him."</p> + +<p>"Good reason why," retorted Samantha. "You always know where to find him +'cause he gen'ally hain't moved sence you seen him last. Gittin' +religion ain't goin' to help him much. If he ever hears tell 'bout the +gate of heaven bein' open 't the last day, he won't 'a' begun to begin +thinkin' 'bout gittin' in tell he hears the door shet in his face; 'n' +then he'll set ri' down's comf'table's if he was inside, 'n' say, 'Wall, +better luck next time: slow an' sure 's my motto!' Good-mornin', +Jabe,—had your dinner?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't even hed my breakfast," responded Mr. Slocum easily.</p> + +<p>"Blessed are the lazy folks, for they always git their chores done for +'em," re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>marked Samantha scathingly, as she went to the buttery for +provisions.</p> + +<p>"Wall," said Laigs, looking at her with his most irritating smile, as he +sat down at the kitchen table, "I don't find I git thru any more work by +tumblin' out o' bed 't sun-up 'n I dew 'f I lay a spell 'n' let the +univarse git het up 'n' runnin' a leetle mite. 'Slow 'n' easy goes fur +in a day' 's my motto. Rhapseny, she used to say she should think I'd be +ashamed to lay abed so late. 'Wall, I be,' s' I, 'but I'd ruther be +ashamed 'n git up!' But you're an awful good cook, Samanthy, if ye air +allers in a hurry, 'n' if yer hev got a sharp tongue!"</p> + +<p>"The less you say 'bout my tongue the better!" snapped Samantha.</p> + +<p>"Right you are," answered Jabe with a good-natured grin, as he went on +with his breakfast. He had a huge appetite, another grievance in +Samantha's eyes. She always said "there was no need of his being so +slab-sided 'n' slack-twisted 'n' knuckle-jointed,—that he eat enough in +all conscience, but he wouldn't take the trouble to find the victuals +that would fat him up 'n' fill out his bag o' bones."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>Just as Samantha's well-cooked viands began to disappear in Jabe's +capacious mouth (he always ate precisely as if he were stoking an +engine) his eye rested upon a strange object by the wood-box, and he put +down his knife and ejaculated, "Well, I swan! Now when 'n' where'd I see +that baby-shay? Why, 't was yesterday. Well, I vow, them young ones was +comin' here, was they?"</p> + +<p>"What young ones?" asked Miss Vilda, exchanging astonished glances with +Samantha.</p> + +<p>"And don't begin at the book o' Genesis 'n' go clean through the Bible, +'s you gen'ally do. Start right in on Revelations, where you belong," +put in Samantha; for to see a man unexpectedly loaded to the muzzle with +news, and too lazy to fire it off, was enough to try the patience of a +saint; and even David Milliken would hardly have applied that term to +Samantha Ann Ripley.</p> + +<p>"Give a feller time to think, will yer?" expostulated Jabe, with his +mouth full of pie. "Everything comes to him as waits 'd be an awful good +motto for you! Where'd I see 'em? Why, I fetched 'em as fur as the +cross-roads myself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I never!" "I want to know!" cried the two women in one breath.</p> + +<p>"I picked 'em up out on the road, a little piece this side o' the +station. 'T was at the top o' Marm Berry's hill, that's jest where 't +was. The boy was trudgin' along draggin' the baby 'n' the basket, 'n' I +thought I'd give him a lift, so s' I, 'Goin' t' the Swamp or t' the +Falls?' s' I. 'To the Falls,' s' 'e. 'Git in,' s' I, ''n' I'll give yer +a ride, 'f y' ain't in no hurry,' s' I. So in he got, 'n' the baby tew. +When I got putty near home, I happened ter think I'd oughter gone roun' +by the tan'ry 'n' picked up the Widder Foss, 'n' so s' I, 'I ain't goin' +no nearer to the Falls; but I guess your laigs is good for the balance +o' the way, ain't they?' s' I. 'I guess they be!' s' 'e. Then he thanked +me 's perlite's Deacon Sawyer's first wife, 'n' I left him 'n' his folks +in the road where I found 'em."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you ask where he belonged nor where he was bound?"</p> + +<p>"'T ain't my way to waste good breath askin' questions 't ain't none o' +my bis'ness," replied Mr. Slocum.</p> + +<p>"You're right, it ain't," responded Samantha, as she slammed the +milk-pans in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> the sink; "'n' it's my hope that some time when you get +good and ready to ask somebody somethin' they'll be in too much of a +hurry to answer you!"</p> + +<p>"Be they any of your folks, Miss Vildy?" asked Jabe, grinning with +delight at Samantha's ill humor.</p> + +<p>"No," she answered briefly.</p> + +<p>"What yer cal'latin' ter do with 'em?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't decided yet. The boy says they haven't got any folks nor any +home; and I suppose it's our duty to find a place for 'em. I don't see +but we've got to go to the expense of takin' 'em back to the city and +puttin' 'em in some asylum."</p> + +<p>"How'd they happen to come here?"</p> + +<p>"They ran away from the city yesterday, and they liked the looks of this +place; that's all the satisfaction we can get out of 'em, and I dare say +it's a pack of lies."</p> + +<p>"That boy wouldn't tell a lie no more 'n a seraphim!" said Samantha +tersely.</p> + +<p>"You can't judge folks by appearances," answered Vilda. "But anyhow, +don't talk to the neighbors, Jabe; and if you haven't got anything +special on hand to-day, I wish you'd patch the roof of the summer house +and dig us a mess of beet greens. Keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> the children with you, and see +what you make of 'em; they're playin' in the garden now."</p> + +<p>"All right. I'll size 'em up the best I ken, tho' mebbe it'll hender me +in my work some; but time was made for slaves, as the molasses said when +they told it to hurry up in winter time."</p> + +<p>Two hours later, Miss Vilda looked from the kitchen window and saw Jabez +Slocum coming across the road from the garden. Timothy trudged beside +him, carrying the basket of greens in one hand, and the other locked in +Jabe's huge paw; his eyes upturned and shining with pleasure, his lips +moving as if he were chattering like a magpie. Lady Gay was just where +you might have expected to find her, mounted on the towering height of +Jabe's shoulder, one tiny hand grasping his weather-beaten straw hat, +while with the other she whisked her willing steed with an alder switch +which had evidently been cut for that purpose by the victim himself.</p> + +<p>"That's the way he's sizin' of 'em up," said Samantha, leaning over +Vilda's shoulder with a smile. "I'll bet they've sized him up enough +sight better 'n he has them!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jabe left the children outside, and came in with the basket. Putting his +hat in the wood-box and hitching up his trousers impressively, he sat +down on the settle.</p> + +<p>"Them ain't no children to be wanderin' about the earth afoot 'n' alone, +'same 's Hitty went to the beach;' nor they ain't any common truck ter +be put inter 'sylums 'n' poor-farms. There's some young ones that's so +everlastin' chuckle-headed 'n' hombly 'n' contrairy that they ain't +hardly wuth savin'; but these ain't that kind. The baby, now you've got +her cleaned up, is han'somer 'n any baby on the river, 'n' a reg'lar +chunk o' sunshine besides. I'd be willin' ter pay her a little suthin' +for livin' alongside. The boy—well, the boy is a extra-ordinary boy. We +got on tergether's slick as if we was twins. That boy's got idees, +that's what he's got; 'n' he's likely to grow up into—well, 'most +anything."</p> + +<p>"If you think so highly of 'em, why don't you adopt 'em?" asked Miss +Vilda curtly. "That's what they seem to think folks ought to do."</p> + +<p>"I ain't sure but I shall," Mr. Slocum responded unexpectedly. "If you +can't find a better home for 'em somewheres, I ain't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> sure but I'll take +'em myself. Land sakes! if Rhapseny was alive I'd adopt 'em quicker 'n +blazes; but marm won't take to the idee very strong, I don't s'pose, 'n' +she ain't much on bringin' up children, as I ken testify. Still, she's a +heap better 'n a brick asylum with a six-foot stone wall round it, when +yer come to that. But I b'lieve we ken do better for 'em. I can say to +folks, 'See here: here's a couple o' smart, han'some children. You can +have 'em for nothin', 'n' needn't resk the onsartainty o' gittin' +married 'n' raisin' yer own; 'n' when yer come ter that, yer wouldn't +stan' no charnce o' gittin' any as likely as these air, if ye did.'"</p> + +<p>"That's true as the gospel!" said Samantha. It nearly killed her to +agree with him, but the words were fairly wrung from her unwilling lips +by his eloquence and wisdom.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll see what we can do for 'em," said Vilda in a non-committal +tone; "and here they'll have to stay, for all I see, tell we can get +time to turn round and look 'em up a place."</p> + +<p>"And the way their edjercation has been left be," continued Mr. Slocum, +"is a burnin' shame in a Christian country. I don' b'lieve they ever see +the inside of a school-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>house! I've learned 'em more this mornin' 'n +they ever hearn tell of before, but they're 's ignorant 's Cooper's cow +yit. They don' know tansy from sorrel, nor slip'ry ellum from +pennyroyal, nor burdock from pigweed; they don' know a dand'lion from a +hole in the ground; they don' know where the birds put up when it comes +on night; they never see a brook afore, nor a bull-frog; they never +hearn tell o' cat-o'-nine-tails, nor jack-lanterns, nor see-saws. Land +sakes! we got ter talkin' 'bout so many things that I clean forgot the +summer-house roof. But there! this won't do for me: I must be goin'; +there ain't no rest for the workin'-man in this country."</p> + +<p>"If there wa'n't no work for him, he'd be wuss off yet," responded +Samantha.</p> + +<p>"Right ye are, Samanthy! Look here, when 'd you want that box you give +me to fix?"</p> + +<p>"I wanted it before hayin', but I s'pose any time before Thanksgivin' +'ll do, seein' it's you."</p> + +<p>"What's wuth doin' 't all 's wuth takin' time over, 's my motto," said +Jabe cheerfully, "but seein' it's you, I'll nail that cover on ter night +or bust!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE IX.</h2> + +<h4><i>A Village Sabbath.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class='hanging'>"NOW THE END OF THE COMMANDMENT IS CHARITY, OUT OF A PURE HEART."</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>It was Sunday morning, and the very peace of God was brooding over +Pleasant River. Timothy, Rags, and Gay were playing decorously in the +orchard. Maria was hitched to an apple-tree in the side yard, and stood +there serenely with her eyes half closed, dreaming of oats past and oats +to come. Miss Vilda and Samantha issued from the mosquito-netting door, +clad in Sunday best; and the children approached nearer, that they might +share in the excitement of the departure for "meeting." Gay clamored to +go, but was pacified by the gift of a rag-doll that Samantha had made +for her the evening before. It was a monstrosity, but Gay dipped it +instantly in the alembic of her imagination, and it became a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> beautiful, +responsive little daughter, which she clasped close in her arms, and on +which she showered the tenderest tokens of maternal affection.</p> + +<p>Miss Vilda handed Timothy a little green-paper-covered book, before she +climbed into the buggy. "That's a catechism," she said; "and if you'll +be a good boy and learn the first six pages, and say 'em to me this +afternoon, Samantha 'll give you a top that you can spin on week days."</p> + +<p>"What is a catechism?" asked Timothy, as he took the book.</p> + +<p>"It's a Sunday-school lesson."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then I can learn it," said Timothy, brightening; "I learned three +for Miss Dora, in the city."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm thankful to hear that you've had some spiritual advantages; +now, stay right here in the orchard till Jabe comes; and don't set the +house afire," she added, as Samantha took the reins and raised them for +the mighty slap on Maria's back which was necessary to wake her from her +Sunday slumber.</p> + +<p>"Why would I want to set the house afire?" Timothy asked wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know 's you would want<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> to, but I thought you might get +to playin' with matches, though I've hid 'em all."</p> + +<p>"Play with matches!" exclaimed Timothy, in wide-eyed astonishment that a +match could appeal to anybody as a desirable plaything. "Oh, no, thank +you; I shouldn't have thought of it."</p> + +<p>"I don't know as we ought to have left 'em alone," said Vilda, looking +back, as Samantha urged the moderate Maria over the road; "though I +don't know exactly what they could do."</p> + +<p>"Except run away," said Samantha reflectively.</p> + +<p>"I wish to the land they would! It would be the easiest way out of a +troublesome matter. Every day that goes by will make it harder for us to +decide what to do with 'em; for you can't do by those you know the same +as if they were strangers."</p> + +<p>There was a long main street running through the village north and +south. Toward the north it led through a sweet-scented wood, where the +grass tufts grew in verdant strips along the little-traveled road. It +had been a damp morning, and, though now the sun was shining +brilliantly, the spiders' webs still covered the fields; gossamer laces +of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> moist, spun silver, through which shone the pink and lilac of the +meadow grasses. The wood was a quiet place, and more than once Miss +Vilda and Samantha had discussed matters there which they would never +have mentioned at the White Farm.</p> + +<p>Maria went ambling along serenely through the arcade of trees, where the +sun went wandering softly, "as with his hands before his eyes;" +overhead, the vast blue canopy of heaven, and under the trees the soft +brown leaf carpet, "woven by a thousand autumns."</p> + +<p>"I don't know but I could grow to like the baby in time," said Vilda, +"though it's my opinion she's goin' to be dreadful troublesome; but I'm +more 'n half afraid of the boy. Every time he looks at me with those +searchin' eyes of his, I mistrust he's goin' to say something about +Marthy,—all on account of his giving me such a turn when he came to the +door."</p> + +<p>"He'd be awful handy round the house, though, Vildy; that is, if he <i>is</i> +handy,—pickin' up chips, 'n' layin' fires, 'n' what not; but, 's you +say, he ain't so takin' as the baby at first sight. She's got the same +winnin' way with her that Marthy hed!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," said Miss Vilda grimly; "and I guess it's the devil's own way."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, mebbe; 'n' then again mebbe 't ain't. There ain't no reason +why the devil should own all the han'some faces 'n' tunesome laughs, 't +I know of. It doos seem 's if beauty was turrible misleading', 'n' I've +ben glad sometimes the Lord didn't resk none of it on me; for I was +behind the door when good looks was give out, 'n' I'm willin' t' own up +to it; but, all the same, I like to see putty faces roun' me, 'n' I +guess when the Lord sets his mind on it He can make goodness 'n' beauty +git along comf'tably in the same body. When yer come to that, hombly +folks ain't allers as good 's they might be, 'n' no comfort to anybody's +eyes, nuther."</p> + +<p>"You think the boy's all right in the upper story, do you? He's a +strange kind of a child, to my thinkin'."</p> + +<p>"I ain't so sure but he's smarter 'n we be, but he talks queer, 'n' no +mistake. This mornin' he was pullin' the husks off a baby ear o' corn +that Jabe brought in, 'n' s' 'e, 'S'manthy, I think the corn must be the +happiest of all the veg'tables.' 'How you talk!' s' I; 'what makes you +think that way?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>"</p> + +<p>"Why, because,' s' 'e, 'God has hidden it away so safe, with all that +shinin' silk round it first, 'n' then the soft leaves wrapped outside o' +the silk. I guess it's God's fav'rite veg'table; don't you, S'manthy?' +s' 'e. And when I was showin' him pictures last night, 'n' he see the +crosses on top some o' the city meetin'-houses, s' 'e, 'They have two +sticks on 'most all the churches, don't they, S'manthy? I s'pose that's +one stick for God, and the other for the peoples.' Well, now, don't you +remember Seth Pennell, o' Buttertown, how queer he was when he was a +boy? We thought he'd never be wuth his salt. He used to stan' in the +front winder 'n' twirl the curtin tossel for hours to a time. And don't +you know it come out last year that he'd wrote a reg'lar book, with +covers on it 'n' all, 'n' that he got five dollars a colume for writin' +poetry verses for the papers?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, if you mean that," said Vilda argumentatively, "I don't call +writin' poetry any great test of smartness. There ain't been a big fool +in this village for years but could do somethin' in the writin' line. I +guess it ain't any great trick, if you have a mind to put yourself down +to it. For my part, I've always despised to see a great,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> hulkin' man, +that could handle a hoe or a pitchfork, sit down and twirl a pen-stalk."</p> + +<p>"Well, I ain't so sure. I guess the Lord hes his own way o' managin' +things. We ain't all cal'lated to hoe pertaters nor yet to write poetry +verses. There's as much dif'rence in folks 's there is in anybody. Now, +I can take care of a dairy as well as the next one, 'n' nobody was ever +hearn to complain o' my butter; but there was that lady in New York +State that used to make flowers 'n' fruit 'n' graven images out o' her +churnin's. You've hearn tell o' that piece she carried to the +Centennial? Now, no sech doin's 's that ever come into my head. I've +went on makin' round balls for twenty years: 'n', massy on us, don't I +remember when my old butter stamp cracked, 'n' I couldn't get another +with an ear o' corn on it, 'n' hed to take one with a beehive, why, I +was that homesick I couldn't bear to look my butter 'n the eye! But that +woman would have had a new picter on her balls every day, I shouldn't +wonder! (For massy's sake, Maria, don't stan' stock still 'n' let the +flies eat yer right up!) No, I tell yer, it takes all kinds o' folks to +make a world. Now, I couldn't never read poetry. It's so dull, it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> makes +me feel 's if I'd been trottin' all day in the sun! But there's folks +that can stan' it, or they wouldn't keep on turnin' of it out. The +children are nice children enough, but have they got any folks anywhere, +'n' what kind of folks, 'n' where'd they come from, anyhow: that's what +we've got to find out, 'n' I guess it'll be consid'able of a chore!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know but you're right. I thought some of sendin' Jabe to the +city to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Jabe? Well, I s'pose he'd be back by 'nother spring; but who'd we get +ter shovel us out this winter, seein' as there ain't more 'n three men +in the whole village? Aunt Hitty says twenty-year engagements 's goin' +out o' fashion in the big cities, 'n' I'm glad if they be. They'd 'a' +never come <i>in</i>, I told her, if there'd ever been an extry man in these +parts, but there never was. If you got holt o' one by good luck, you had +ter <i>keep</i> holt, if 't was two years or twenty-two, or go without. I +used ter be too proud ter go without; now I've got more sense, thanks +be! Why don't you go to the city yourself, Vildy? Jabe Slocum ain't got +sprawl enough to find out anythin' wuth knowin'."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I could go, though I don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> like the prospect of it very +much. I haven't been there for years, but I'd ought to look after my +property there once in a while. Deary me! it seems as if we weren't ever +going to have any more peace."</p> + +<p>"Mebbe we ain't," said Samantha, as they wound up the meeting-house +hill; "but ain't we hed 'bout enough peace for one spell? If peace was +the best thing we could get in this world, we might as well be them old +cows by the side o' the road there. There ain't nothin' so peaceful as a +cow, when you come to that!"</p> + +<p>The two women went into the church more perplexed in mind than they +would have cared to confess. During the long prayer (the minister could +talk to God at much greater length than he could talk about Him), Miss +Vilda prayed that the Lord would provide the two little wanderers with +some more suitable abiding-place than the White Farm; and that, failing +this, He would inform his servant whether there was anything unchristian +in sending them to a comfortable public asylum. She then reminded Heaven +that she had made the Foreign Missionary Society her residuary legatee +(a deed that established her claim to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> being a zealous member of the +fold), so that she could scarcely be blamed for not wishing to take two +orphan children into her peaceful home.</p> + +<p>Well, it is no great wonder that so faulty a prayer did not bring the +wished-for light at once; but the ministering angels, who had the +fatherless little ones in their care, did not allow Miss Vilda's mind to +rest quietly. Just as the congregation settled itself after the hymn, +and the palm-leaf fans began to sway in the air, a swallow flew in +through the open window; and, after fluttering to and fro over the +pulpit, hid itself in a dark corner, unnoticed by all save the small +boys of the congregation, to whom it was, of course, a priceless boon. +But Miss Vilda could not keep her wandering thoughts on the sermon any +more than if she had been a small boy. She was anything but +superstitious; but she had seen that swallow, or some of its ancestors, +before.... It had flown into the church on the very Sunday of her +mother's death.... They had left her sitting in the high-backed rocker +by the window, the great family Bible and her spectacles on the little +light-stand beside her.... When they returned from church, they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> had +found their mother sitting as they left her, with a smile on her face, +but silent and lifeless.... And through the glass of the spectacles, as +they lay on the printed page, Vilda had read the words, "For a bird of +the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the +matter;" had read them wonderingly, and marked the place with reverent +fingers.... The swallow flew in again, years afterward.... She could not +remember the day or the month, but she could never forget the summer, +for it was the last bright one of her life, the last that pretty Martha +ever spent at the White Farm.... And now here was the swallow again.... +"For a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings +shall tell the matter." Miss Vilda looked on the book and tried to +follow the hymn; but passages of Scripture flocked into her head in +place of good Dr. Watts's verses, and when the little melodeon played +the interludes she could only hear:—</p> + +<p>"Yea, the sparrow hath found her an house and the swallow a nest where +she may lay her young, even Thy altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my +God."</p> + +<p>"As a bird that wandereth from her nest, so is a man that wandereth from +his place."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son +of man hath not where to lay his head."</p> + +<p>And then the text fell on her bewildered ears, and roused her from one +reverie to plunge her in another. It was chosen, as it chanced, from the +First Epistle of Timothy, chapter first, verse fifth: "Now the end of +the commandment is charity, out of a pure heart."</p> + +<p>"That means the Missionary Society," said Miss Vilda to her conscience, +doggedly; but she knew better. The parson, the text,—or was it the +bird?—had brought the message; but for the moment she did not lend the +hearing ear or the understanding heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE X.</h2> + +<h4><i>The Supper Table.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class='hanging'>AUNT HITTY COMES TO "MAKE OVER," AND SUPPLIES BACK NUMBERS TO ALL THE +VILLAGE HISTORIES.</p></blockquote> + + +<p>Aunt Hitty, otherwise Mrs. Silas Tarbox, was as cheery and loquacious a +person as you could find in a Sabbath day's journey. She was armed with +a substantial amount of knowledge at almost every conceivable point; but +if an unexpected emergency ever did arise, her imagination was equal to +the strain put upon it and rose superior to the occasion. Yet of an +evening, or on Sunday, she was no village gossip; it was only when you +put a needle in her hand or a cutting-board in her lap that her memory +started on its interminable journeyings through the fields of the past. +She knew every biography and every "ought-to-be-ography" in the county, +and could tell you the branches of every genealogical tree in the +village.</p> + +<p>It was dusk at the White Farm, and a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> late supper was spread upon the +hospitable board. (Aunt Hitty was always sure of a bountiful repast. If +one were going to economize, one would not choose for that purpose the +day when the village seamstress came to sew; especially when the +aforesaid lady served the community in the stead of a local newspaper.)</p> + +<p>The children had eaten their bread and milk, and were out in the barn +with Jabe, watching the milking. Aunt Hitty was in a cheerful mood as +she reflected on her day's achievements. Out of Dr. Jonathan Cummins' +old cape coat she had carved a pair of brief trousers and a vest for +Timothy; out of Mrs. Jonathan Cummins' waterproof a serviceable jacket; +and out of Deacon Abijah Cummins' linen duster an additional coat and +vest for warm days. The owners of these garments had been dead many +years, but nothing was ever thrown away (and, for that matter, very +little given away) at the White Farm, and the ancient habiliments had +finally been diverted to a useful purpose.</p> + +<p>"I hope I shall relish my vittles to-night," said Aunt Hitty, as she +poured her tea into her saucer, and set the cup in her little blue<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +"cup-plate;" "but I've had the neuralgy so in my face that it's be'n +more 'n ten days sence I've be'n able to carry a knife to my mouth.... +Your meat vittles is always so tasty, Miss Cummins. I was sayin' to Mis' +Sawyer last week I think she lets her beef hang too long. Its dretful +tender, but I don't b'lieve its hullsome. For my part, as I've many a +time said to Si, I like meat with some chaw to it.... Mis' Sawyer don't +put half enough vittles on her table. She thinks it scares folks; it +don't me a mite,—it makes me 's hungry as a wolf. When I set a table +for comp'ny I pile on a hull lot, 'n' I find it kind o' discourages +'em.... Mis' Southwick's hevin' a reg'lar brash o' house-cleanin'. She's +too p'ison neat for any earthly use, that woman is. She's fixed +clam-shell borders roun' all her garding beds, an' got enough left for a +pile in one corner, where she's goin' to set her oleander kag. Then +she's bought a haircloth chair and got a new three-ply carpet in her +parlor, 'n' put the old one in the spare-room 'n' the back-entry. Her +daughter's down here from New Haven. She's married into one of the first +families o' Connecticut, Lobelia has, 'n' she puts on a good many airs. +She's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> rigged out her mother's parlor with lace curtains 'n' one thing +'n' 'other, 'n' wants it called the drawin'-room. Did ye ever hear tell +such foolishness? 'Drawin'-room!' s' I to Si; 'what's it goin' to draw? +Nothin' but flies, I guess likely!' ... Mis' Pennell's got a new girl to +help round the house,—one o' them pindlin' light-complected Smith +girls, from the Swamp,—look's if they was nussed on bonny-clabber. +She's so hombly I sh'd think 't would make her back ache to carry her +head round. She ain't very smart, neither. Her mother sent word she'd +pick up 'n' do better when she got her growth. That made Mis' Pennell +hoppin' mad. She said she didn't cal'late to pay a girl three shillin's +a week for growin'. Mis' Pennell's be'n feelin' consid'able slim, or she +wouldn't 'a' hired help; it's just like pullin' teeth for Deacon Pennell +to pay out money for anything like that. He watches every mouthful the +girl puts into her mouth, 'n' it's made him 'bout down sick to see her +fleshin' up on his vittles.... They say he has her put the mornin' +coffee-groun's to dry on the winder-sill, 'n' then has 'em scalt over +for dinner; but, there! I don' know 's there's a mite o' truth in it,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +so I won't repeat it. They went to him to git a subscription for the new +hearse the other day. Land sakes! we need one bad enough. I thought for +sure, at the last funeral we had, that they'd never git Mis' Strout to +the graveyard safe and sound. I kep' a-thinkin' all the way how she'd +'a' took on, if she'd be'n alive. She was the most timersome woman 't +ever was. She was a Thomson, 'n' all the Thomsons was scairt at their +own shadders. Ivory Strout rid right behind the hearse, 'n' he says his +heart was in his mouth the hull durin' time for fear 't would break +down. He didn't git much comfort out the occasion, I guess! Wa' n't he +mad he hed to ride in the same buggy with his mother-in-law! The +minister planned it all out, 'n' wrote down the order o' the mourners, +'n' passeled him out with old Mis' Thomson. I was stan'in' close by, 'n' +I heard him say he s'posed he could go that way if he must, but 't would +spile the hull blamed thing for him! ... Well, as I was sayin', the +seleckmen went to Deacon Pennell to get a contribution towards buyin' +the new hearse; an' do you know, he wouldn't give 'em a dollar? He told +'em he gave five dollars towards the other one, twenty years ago, 'n' +hadn't never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> got a cent's worth o' use out of it. That's Deacon Pennell +all over! As Si says, if the grace o' God wa'n't given to all of us +without money 'n' without price, you wouldn't never hev ketched Deacon +Pennell experiencin' religion! It's got to be a free gospel 't would +convict him o' sin, that's certain! ... They say Seth Thatcher's married +out in Iowy. His mother's tickled 'most to death. She heerd he was +settin' up with a girl out there, 'n' she was scairt to death for fear +he'd get served as Lemuel 'n' Cyrus was. The Thatcher boys never hed any +luck gettin' married, 'n' they always took disappointments in love +turrible hard. You know Cyrus set in that front winder o' Mis' +Thatcher's, 'n' rocked back 'n' forth for ten year, till he wore out +five cane-bottomed cheers, 'n' then rocked clean through, down cellar, +all on account o' Crany Ann Sweat. Well, I hope she got her comeuppance +in another world,—she never did in this; she married well 'n' lived in +Boston.... Mis' Thatcher hopes Seth 'll come home to live. She's dretful +lonesome in that big house, all alone. She'd oughter have somebody for a +company-keeper. She can't see nothin' but trees 'n' cows from her +winders.... Beats<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> all, the places they used to put houses.... Either +they'd get 'em right under foot so 't you'd most tread on 'em when you +walked along the road, or else they'd set 'em clean back in a lane, +where the women folks couldn't see face o' clay week in 'n' week out....</p> + +<p>"Joel Whitten's widder's just drawed his pension along o' his bein' in +the war o' 1812. ... It's took 'em all these years to fix it. ... Massy +sakes! don't some folks have their luck buttered in this world?... She +was his fourth wife, 'n' she never lived with him but thirteen days +'fore he up 'n' died. ... It doos seem's if the guv'ment might look +after things a little mite closer.... Talk about Joel Whitten's bein' in +the war o' 1812! Everybody knows Joel Whitten wouldn't have fit a +skeeter! He never got any further 'n Scratch Corner, any way, 'n' there +he clim a tree or hid behind a hen-coop somewheres till the regiment got +out o' sight.... Yes: one, two, three, four,—Huldy was his fourth wife. +His first was a Hogg, from Hoggses Mills. The second was Dorcas +Doolittle, aunt to Jabe Slocum; she didn't know enough to make soap, +Dorcas didn't.... Then there was Delia Weeks,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> from the lower corner.... +She didn't live long.... There was some thin' wrong with Delia.... She +was one o' the thin-blooded, white-livered kind.... You couldn't get her +warm, no matter how hard you tried. ... She'd set over a roarin' fire in +the cook-stove even in the prickliest o' the dog-days. ... The +mill-folks used to say the Whittens burnt more cut-roun's 'n' stickens +'n any three fam'lies in the village. ... Well, after Delia died, then +come Huldy's turn, 'n' it's she, after all, that's drawed the +pension.... Huldy took Joel's death consid'able hard, but I guess she'll +perk up, now she's come int' this money. ... She's awful leaky-minded, +Huldy is, but she's got tender feelin's.... One day she happened in at +noon-time, 'n' set down to the table with Si 'n' I.... All of a suddent +she bust right out cryin' when Si was offerin' her a piece o' tripe, 'n' +then it come out that she couldn't never bear the sight o' tripe, it +reminded her so of Joel! It seems tripe was a favorite dish o' Joel's. +All his wives cooked it firstrate.... Jabe Slocum seems to set +consid'able store by them children, don't he?... I guess he'll never +ketch up with his work, now he's got them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> hangin' to his heels.... He +doos beat all for slowness! Slocum's a good name for him, that's +certain. An' 's if that wa'n't enough, his mother was a Stillwell, 'n' +her mother was a Doolittle!... The Doolittles was the slowest fam'ly in +Lincoln County. (Thank you, I'm well helped, Samanthy.) Old Cyrus +Doolittle was slower 'n a toad funeral. He was a carpenter by trade, 'n' +he was twenty-five years buildin' his house; 'n' it warn't no great, +either.... The stagin' was up ten or fifteen years, 'n' he shingled it +four or five times before he got roun', for one patch o' shingles used +to wear out 'fore he got the next patch on. He 'n' Mis' Doolittle lived +in two rooms in the L. There was elegant banisters, but no stairs to +'em, 'n' no entry floors. There was a tip-top cellar, but there wa'n't +no way o' gittin' down to it, 'n' there wa'n't no conductors to the +cisterns. There was only one door panel painted in the parlor. Land +sakes! the neighbors used to happen in 'bout every week for years 'n' +years, hopin' he'd get another one finished up, but he never did,—not +to my knowledge.... Why, it's the gospel truth that when Mis' Doolittle +died he had to have her embalmed, so 't he could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> git the front door +hung for the fun'ral! (No more tea, I thank you; my cup ain't out.) ... +Speakin' o' slow folks, Elder Banks tells an awful good story 'bout Jabe +Slocum.... There's another man down to Edgewood, Aaron Peek by name, +that's 'bout as lazy as Jabe. An' one day, when the loafers roun' the +store was talkin' 'bout 'em, all of a suddent they see the two of 'em +startin' to come down Marm Berry's hill, right in plain sight of the +store.... Well, one o' the Edgewood boys bate one o' the Pleasant River +boys that they could tell which one of 'em was the laziest by the way +they come down that hill.... So they all watched, 'n' bime by, when Jabe +was most down to the bottom of the hill, they was struck all of a heap +to see him break into a kind of a jog trot 'n' run down the balance o' +the way. Well, then, they fell to quarrelin'; for o' course the Pleasant +River folks said Aaron Peek was the laziest, 'n' the Edgewood boys +declared he hedn't got no such record for laziness's Jabe Slocum hed; +an' when they was explainin' of it, one way 'n' 'nother, Elder Banks +come along, 'n' they asked him to be the judge. When he heerd tell how +'t was, he said he agreed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> with the Edgewood folks that Jabe was lazier +'n Aaron. 'Well, I snum, I don't see how you make that out,' says the +Pleasant River boys; 'for Aaron walked down, 'n' Jabe run a piece o' the +way.' 'If Jabe Slocum run,' says the elder, as impressive as if he was +preachin',—'if Jabe Slocum ever run, then 't was because he was <i>too +doggoned lazy to hold back!</i> 'an' that settled it!... (No, I couldn't +eat another mossel, Miss Cummins; I've made out a splendid supper.) ... +You can't git such pie 'n' doughnuts anywhere else in the village, 'n' +what I say I mean.... Do you make your riz doughnuts with emptin's? I +want to know! Si says there's more faculty in cookin' flour food than +there is in meat-victuals, 'n' I guess he's 'bout right."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was bedtime, and Timothy was in his little room carrying on the most +elaborate and complicated plots for reading the future. It must be known +that Jabe Slocum was as full of signs as a Farmer's Almanac, and he had +given Timothy more than one formula for attaining his secret +desires,—old, well-worn recipes for luck, which had been tried for +generations in Pleasant River, and which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> were absolutely "certain" in +their results. The favorites were:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Star bright, star light,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">First star I've seen to-night,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wish I may, wish I might,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Get the wish I wish to-night;"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>and one still more impressive:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Four posts upon my bed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Four corners overhead;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bless the bed I <i>lay</i> upon.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Matthew, John, Luke, and Mark,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grant my wish and keep it dark."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>These rhymes had been chanted with great solemnity, and Timothy sat by +the open window in the sweet darkness of the summer night, wishing that +he and Gay might stay forever in this sheltered spot. "I'll make a sign +of my very own," he thought. "I'll get Gay's ankle-tie, and put it on +the window-sill, with the toe pointing out. Then I'll wish that if we +are going to stay at the White Farm, the angels will turn it around, +'toe in' to the room, for a sign to me; and if we've got to go, I'll +wish they may leave it the other way; and, oh dear, but I'm glad it's so +little and easy to move; and then I'll say Matthew, Mark, Luke, and +John, four times over, without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> stopping, as Jabe told me to, and then +see how it turns out in the morning." ...</p> + +<p>But the incantation was more soothing than the breath of Miss Vilda's +scarlet poppies, and before the magical verse had fallen upon the drowsy +air for the third time, Timothy was fast asleep, with a smile of hope on +his parted lips.</p> + +<p>There was a sweet summer shower in the night. The soft breezes, fresh +from shaded dells and nooks of fern, fragrant with the odor of pine and +vine and wet wood-violets, blew over the thirsty meadows and golden +stubble-fields, and brought an hour of gentle rain.</p> + +<p>It sounded a merry tintinnabulation on Samantha's milk-pans, wafted the +scent of dripping honeysuckle into the farmhouse windows, and drenched +the night-caps in which prudent farmers had dressed their haycocks.</p> + +<p>Next morning, the green world stood on tiptoe to welcome the victorious +sun, and every little leaf shone as a child's eyes might shine at the +remembrance of a joy just past.</p> + +<p>A meadow lark perched on a swaying apple-branch above Martha's grave, +and poured out his soul in grateful melody; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> Timothy, wakened by +Nature's sweet good-morning, leaped from the too fond embrace of Miss +Vilda's feather-bed.... And lo, a miracle!... The woodbine clung close +to the wall beneath his window. It was tipped with strong young shoots +reaching out their innocent hands to cling to any support that offered; +and one baby tendril that seemed to have grown in a single night, so +delicate it was, had somehow been blown by the sweet night wind from its +drooping place on the parent vine, and, falling on the window-sill, had +curled lovingly round Gay's fairy shoe, and held it fast!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE XI.</h2> + +<h4><i>The Honeysuckle Porch.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class='hanging'>MISS VILDA DECIDES THAT TWO IS ONE TOO MANY, AND TIMOTHY BREAKS A +HUMMINGBIRD'S EGG.</p></blockquote> + + +<p>It was a drowsy afternoon. The grasshoppers chirped lazily in the warm +grasses, and the toads blinked sleepily under the shadows of the steps, +scarcely snapping at the flies as they danced by on silver wings. Down +in the old garden the still pools, in which the laughing brook rested +itself here and there, shone like glass under the strong beams of the +sun, and the baby horned-pouts rustled their whiskers drowsily and +scarcely stirred the water as they glided slowly through its crystal +depths.</p> + +<p>The air was fragrant with the odor of new-mown grass and the breath of +wild strawberries that had fallen under the sickle, to make the sweet +hay sweeter with their crimson juices. The whir of the scythes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> and the +clatter of the mowing machine came from the distant meadows. Field mice +and ground sparrows were aware that it probably was all up with their +little summer residences, for haying time was at its height, and the +Giant, mounted on the Avenging Chariot, would speedily make his +appearance, and buttercups and daisies, tufted grasses and blossoming +weeds, must all bow their heads before him, and if there was anything +more valuable hidden at their roots, so much the worse!</p> + +<p>And if a bird or a mouse had been especially far-sighted and had located +his family near a stump fence on a particularly uneven bit of ground, +why there was always a walking Giant going about the edges with a +gleaming scythe, so that it was no wonder, when reflecting on these +matters after a day's palpitation, that the little denizens of the +fields thought it very natural that there should be Nihilists and +Socialists in the world, plotting to overturn monopolies and other +gigantic schemes for crushing the people.</p> + +<p>Rags enjoyed the excitement of haying immensely. But then, his life was +one long holiday now anyway, and the close quarters,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> scanty fare, and +wearisome monotony of Minerva Court only visited his memory dimly when +he was suffering the pangs of indigestion. For in the first few weeks of +his life at the White Farm, before his appetite was satiated, he was +wont to eat all the white cat's food as well as his own; and as this +highway robbery took place in the retirement of the shed, where Samantha +Ann always swept them for their meals, no human being was any the wiser, +and only the angels saw the white cat getting whiter and whiter and +thinner and thinner, while every day Rags grew more corpulent and +aldermanic in his figure. But as his stomach was more favorably located +than an alderman's, he could still see the surrounding country, and he +had the further advantage of possessing four legs (instead of two) to +carry it about.</p> + +<p>Timothy was happy, too, for he was a dreamer, and this quiet life +harmonized well with the airy fabric of his dreams. He loved every stick +and stone about the old homestead already, because the place had brought +him the only glimpse of freedom and joy that he could remember in these +last bare and anxious years; and if there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> were other and brighter +years, far, far back in the misty gardens of the past, they only yielded +him a secret sense of "having been," a memory that could never be +captured and put into words.</p> + +<p>Each morning he woke fearing to find his present life a vision, and each +morning he gazed with unspeakable gladness at the sweet reality that +stretched itself before his eyes as he stood for a moment at his little +window above the honeysuckle porch.</p> + +<p>There were the cucumber frames (he had helped Jabe to make them); the +old summer house in the garden (he had held the basket of nails and +handed Jabe the tools when he patched the roof); the little workshop +where Samantha potted her tomato plants (and he had been allowed to +water them twice, with fingers trembling at the thought of too little or +too much for the tender things); and the grindstone where Jabe ground +the scythes and told him stories as he sat and turned the wheel, while +Gay sat beside them making dandelion chains. Yes, it was all there, and +he was a part of it.</p> + +<p>Timothy had all the poet's faculty of interpreting the secrets that are +hidden in every-day things, and when he lay prone on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> the warm earth in +the cornfield, deep among the "varnished crispness of the jointed +stalks," the rustling of the green things growing sent thrills of joy +along the sensitive currents of his being. He was busy in his room this +afternoon putting little partitions in some cigar boxes, where, very +soon, two or three dozen birds' eggs were to repose in fleece-lined +nooks: for Jabe Slocum's collection of three summers (every egg acquired +in the most honorable manner, as he explained), had all passed into +Timothy's hands that very day, in consideration of various services well +and conscientiously performed. What a delight it was to handle the +precious bits of things, like porcelain in their daintiness!—to sort +out the tender blue of the robin, the speckled beauty of the sparrow; to +put the pee-wee's and the thrush's each in its place, with a swift throb +of regret that there would have been another little soft throat bursting +with a song, if some one had not taken this pretty egg. And there was, +over and above all, the never ending marvel of the one humming-bird's +egg that lay like a pearl in Timothy's slender brown hand. Too tiny to +be stroked like the others, only big enough to be stealth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>ily kissed. So +tiny that he must get out of bed two or three times in the night to see +if it is safe. So tiny that he has horrible fears lest it should slip +out or be stolen, and so he must take the box to the window and let the +moonlight shine upon the fleecy cotton, and find that it is still there, +and cover it safely over again and creep back to bed, wishing that he +might see a "thumb's bigness of burnished plumage" sheltering it with +her speck of a breast. Ah! to have a little humming-bird's egg to love, +and to feel that it was his very own, was something to Timothy, as it is +to all starved human hearts full of love that can find no outlet.</p> + +<p>Miss Vilda was knitting, and Samantha was shelling peas, on the +honeysuckle porch. It had been several days since Miss Cummins had gone +to the city, and had come back no wiser than she went, save that she had +made a somewhat exhaustive study of the slums, and had acquired a more +intimate knowledge of the ways of the world than she had ever possessed +before. She had found Minerva Court, and designated it on her return as +a "sink of iniquity," to which Afric's sunny fountains, India's coral +strand, and other tropical localities<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> frequented by missionaries were +virtuous in comparison.</p> + +<p>"For you don't expect anything of black heathens," said she; "but there +ain't any question in my mind about the accountability of folks livin' +in a Christian country, where you can wear clothes and set up to an +air-tight stove and be comfortable, to say nothin' of meetinghouses +every mile or two, and Bible Societies and Young Men's and Young Women's +Christian Associations, and the gospel free to all with the exception of +pew rents and contribution boxes, and those omitted when it's +necessary."</p> + +<p>She affirmed that the ladies and gentlemen whose acquaintance she had +made in Minerva Court were, without exception, a "mess of malefactors," +whose only good point was that, lacking all human qualities, they didn't +care who she was, nor where she came from, nor what she came for; so +that as a matter of fact she had escaped without so much as leaving her +name and place of residence. She learned that Mrs. Nancy Simmons had +sought pastures new in Montana; that Miss Ethel Montmorency still +resided in the metropolis, but did not choose to disclose her modest +dwelling-place<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> to the casual inquiring female from the rural districts; +that a couple of children had disappeared from Minerva Court, if they +remembered rightly, but that there was no disturbance made about the +matter as it saved several people much trouble; that Mrs. Morrison had +had no relations, though she possessed a large circle of admiring +friends; that none of the admiring friends had called since her death or +asked about the children; and finally that Number 3 had been turned into +a saloon, and she was welcome to go in and slake her thirst for +information with something more satisfactory than she could get outside.</p> + +<p>The last straw, and one that would have broken the back of any +self-respecting (unmarried) camel in the universe, was the offensive +belief, on the part of the Minerva Courtiers, that the rigid Puritan +maiden who was conducting the examination was the erring mother of the +children, visiting (in disguise) their former dwelling-place. The +conversation on this point becoming extremely pointed and jocose, Miss +Cummins finally turned and fled, escaping to the railway station as fast +as her trembling legs could carry her. So the trip was a fruitless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> one, +and the mystery that enshrouded Timothy and Lady Gay was as impenetrable +as ever.</p> + +<p>"I wish I'd 'a' gone to the city with you," remarked Samantha. "Not that +I could 'a' found out anything more 'n you did, for I guess there ain't +anybody thereabouts that knows more 'n we do, and anybody 't wants the +children won't be troubled with the relation. But I'd like to give them +bold-faced jigs 'n' hussies a good piece o' my mind for once! You're too +timersome, Vildy! I b'lieve I'll go some o' these days yet, and carry a +good stout umbrella in my hand too. It says in a book somewhar's that +there's insults that can only be wiped out in blood. Ketch 'em hintin' +that I'm the mother of anybody, that's all! I declare I don' know what +our Home Missionary Societies's doin' not to regenerate them places or +exterminate 'em, one or t' other. Somehow our religion don't take holt +as it ought to. It takes a burnin' zeal to clean out them slum places, +and burnin' zeal ain't the style nowadays. As my father used to say, +'Religion's putty much like fish 'n' pertetters; if it's hot it's good, +'n' if it's cold 'tain't wuth a'—well, a short word come in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> there, but +I won't say it. Speakin' o' religion, I never had any experience in +teachin', but I didn't s'pose there was any knack 'bout teachin' +religion, same as there is 'bout teachin' readin' 'n' 'rithmetic, but I +hed hard work makin' Timothy understand that catechism you give him to +learn the other Sunday. He was all upsot with doctrine when he come to +say his lesson. Now you can't scare some children with doctrine, no +matter how hot you make it, or mebbe they don't more 'n half believe it; +but Timothy's an awful sensitive creeter, 'n' when he come to that +answer to the question 'What are you then by nature? An enemy to God, a +child of Satan, and an heir of hell,' he hid his head on my shoulder and +bust right out cryin'. 'How many Gods is there?' s' e, after a spell. +'Land!' thinks I, 'I knew he was a heathen, but if he turns out to be an +idolater, whatever shall I do with him!' 'Why, where've you ben fetched +up?' s' I. 'There's only one God, the High and Mighty Ruler of the +Univarse,' s' I. 'Well,' s' e', 'there must be more 'n one, for the God +in this lesson isn't like the one in Miss Dora's book at all!' Land +sakes! I don't want to teach catechism agin in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> hurry, not tell I've +hed a little spiritual instruction from the minister. The fact is, +Vildy, that our b'liefs, when they're picked out o' the Bible and set +down square and solid 'thout any softening down 'n' explainin' that they +ain't so bad as they sound, is too strong meat for babes. Now I'm +Orthodox to the core" (here she lowered her voice as if there might be a +stray deacon in the garden), "but 'pears to me if I was makin' out +lessons for young ones I wouldn't fill 'em so plumb full o' brimstun. +Let 'em do a little suthin' to deserve it 'fore you scare 'em to death, +say I."</p> + +<p>"Jabe explained it all out to him after supper. It beats all how he gets +on with children."</p> + +<p>"I'd ruther hear how he explained it," answered Samantha sarcastically. +"He's great on expoundin' the Scripters jest now. Well, I hope it'll +last. Land sakes! you'd think nobody ever experienced religion afore, +he's so set up 'bout it. You'd s'pose he kep' the latch-key o' the +heavenly mansions right in his vest pocket, to hear him go on. He +couldn't be no more stuck up 'bout it if he'd ben one o' the two +brothers that come over in three ships!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There goes Elder Nichols," said Miss Vilda. "Now there's a plan we +hadn't thought of. We might take the children over to Purity Village. I +think likely the Shakers would take 'em. They like to get young folks +and break 'em into their doctrines."</p> + +<p>"Tim 'd make a tiptop Shaker," laughed Samantha. "He'd be an Elder afore +he was twenty-one. I can seem to see him now, with his hair danglin' +long in his neck, a blue coat buttoned up to his chin, and his hands +see-sawin' up 'n' down, prancin' round in them solemn dances."</p> + +<p>"Tim would do well enough, but I ain't so sure of Gay. They'd have their +hands full, I guess!"</p> + +<p>"I guess they would. Anybody that wanted to make a Shaker out o' her +would 'a' had to begin with her grandmother; and that wouldn't 'a' done +nuther, for they don't b'lieve in marryin', and the thing would 'a' +stopped right there, and Gray wouldn't never 'a' been born int' the +world."</p> + +<p>"And been a great sight better off," interpolated Miss Vilda.</p> + +<p>"Now don't talk that way, Vildy. Who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> knows what lays ahead o' that +child? The Lord may be savin' her up to do some great work for Him," she +added, with a wild flight of the imagination.</p> + +<p>"She looks like it, don't she?" asked Vilda with a grim intonation; but +her face softened a little as she glanced at Gay asleep on the rustic +bench under the window.</p> + +<p>The picture would have struck terror to the sad-eyed æsthete, but an +artist who liked to see colors burn and glow on the canvas would have +been glad to paint her: a little frock of buttercup yellow calico, bare +neck and arms, full of dimples, hair that put the yellow calico to shame +by reason of its tinge of copper, skin of roses and milk that dared the +microscope, red smiling lips, one stocking and ankle-tie kicked off and +five pink toes calling for some silly woman to say "This little pig went +to market" on them, a great bunch of nasturtiums in one warm hand and +the other buried in Rags, who was bursting with the white cat's dinner, +and in such a state of snoring bliss that his tail wagged occasionally, +even in his dreams.</p> + +<p>"She don't look like a missionary, if that's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> what you mean," said +Samantha hotly. "She may not be called 'n' elected to traipse over to +Africy with a Test'ment in one hand 'n' a sun umbreller in the other, +savin' souls by the wholesale; but 't ain't no mean service to go +through the world stealin' into folks' hearts like a ray o' sunshine, +'n' lightin' up every place you step foot in!"</p> + +<p>"I ain't sayin' anything against the child, Samanthy Ann; you said +yourself she wa'n't cut out for a Shaker!"</p> + +<p>"No more she is," laughed Samantha, when her good humor was restored. +"She'd like the singin' 'n' dancin' well enough, but 't would be hard +work smoothin' the kink out of her hair 'n' fixin' it under one o' their +white Sunday bunnets. She wouldn't like livin' altogether with the +women-folks, nuther. The only way for Gay 'll be to fetch her right up +with the men-folks, 'n' hev her see they ain't no great things, anyway. +Land sakes! If 't warn't for dogs 'n' dark nights, I shouldn't care if I +never see a man; but Gay has 'em all on her string a'ready, from the boy +that brings the cows home for Jabe to the man that takes the butter to +the city. The tin peddler give her a dipper this mornin', and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +fish-man brought her a live fish in a tin-pail. Well, she makes the +house a great sight brighter to live in, you can't deny that, Vildy."</p> + +<p>"I ain't denyin' anything in partic'ler. She makes a good deal of work, +I know that much. And I don't want you to get your heart set on one or +both of 'em, for 't won't be no use. We could make out with one of 'em, +I suppose, if we had to, but two is one too many. They seem to set such +store by one another that 't would be like partin' the Siamese twins; +but there, they'd pine awhile, and then they 'd get over it. Anyhow, +they'll have to try."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; you can git over the small-pox, but you'll carry the scars to +your grave most likely. I think 't would be a sin to part them children. +I wouldn't do it no more 'n I'd tear away that scarlit bean that's +twisted itself round 'n' round that pink hollyhock there. I stuck a +stick in the ground, and carried a string to the winder; but I didn't +git at it soon enough, the bean vine kep' on growin' the other way, +towards the hollyhock. Then the other night I got my mad up, 'n' I jest +oncurled it by main force 'n' wropped it round the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> string, 'n,' if +you'll believe me, I happened to look at it this mornin,' 'n' there it +'t was, as nippant as you please, coiled round the hollyhock agin! Then +says I to myself, 'Samantha Ann Ripley, you've known what 't was to be +everlastin'ly hectored 'n' intefered with all your life, now s'posin' +you let that bean have its hollyhock, if it wants it!'"</p> + +<p>Miss Vilda looked at her sharply as she said, "Samantha Ann Ripley, I +believe to my soul you're fussin' 'bout Dave Milliken again!</p> + +<p>"Well, I ain't! Every time I talk 'bout hollyhocks and scarlit beans I +ain't meanin' Dave Milliken 'n' me,—not by a long chalk! I was only +givin' you my views 'bout partin' them children, that's all!"</p> + +<p>"Well, all I can say is," remarked Miss Vilda obstinately, "that those +that's desirous of takin' in two strange children, and boardin' and +lodgin' 'em till they get able to do it for themselves, and runnin' the +resk of their turnin' out heathens and malefactors like the folks they +came from,—can do it if they want to. If I come to see that the baby is +too young to send away anywheres I may keep her a spell, but the boy has +got to go, and that's the end of it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> You've been crowdin' me into a +corner about him for a week, and now I've said my say!"</p> + +<p>Alas! that tiny humming-bird's egg was crushed to atoms,—crushed by a +boy's slender hand that had held it so gently for very fear of breaking +it. For poor little Timothy Jessup had heard his fate for the second +time, and knew that he must "move on" again, for there was no room for +him at the White Farm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE XII.</h2> + +<h4><i>The Village.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class='hanging'>LYDDY PETTIGROVE'S FUNERAL.</p></blockquote> + + +<p>Lyddy Pettigrove was dead. Not one person, but a dozen, had called in at +the White Farm to announce this fact and look curiously at Samantha Ann +Ripley to see how she took the news.</p> + +<p>To say the truth, the community did not seem to be overpowered by its +bereavement. There seemed to be a general feeling that Mrs. Pettigrove +had never been wanted in Pleasant River, coupled with a mild surprise +that she should have been wanted anywhere else. Speculation was rife as +to who would keep house for Dave Milliken, and whether Samantha Ann +would bury the Ripley-Milliken battle-axe and go to the funeral, and +whether Mis' Pettigrove had left her property to David, as was right, or +to her husband's sister in New Hampshire, which would be a sin and a +shame; but jest as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> likely as not, though she was well off and didn't +need it no more 'n a toad would a pocket-book, and couldn't bear the +sight o' Lyddy besides,—and whether Mr. Pettigrove's first wife's +relations would be asked to the funeral, bein' as how they hadn't spoke +for years, 'n' wouldn't set on the same side the meetin'-house, but when +you come to that, if only the folks that was on good terms with Lyddy +Pettigrove was asked to the funeral, there'd be a slim attendance, +and—so on.</p> + +<p>Aunt Hitty was the most important person in the village on these +occasions. It was she who assisted in the last solemn preparations and +took the last solemn stitches; and when all was done, and she hung her +little reticule on her arm, and started to walk from the house of +bereavement to her own home (where "Si" was anxiously awaiting his +nightly draught of gossip), no royal herald could have been looked for +with greater interest or greeted with greater cordiality. All the +housewives that lived on the direct road were on their doorsteps, so as +not to lose a moment, and all that lived off the road had seen her from +the upstairs windows, and were at the gate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> to waylay her as she passed. +At such a moment Aunt Hitty's bosom swelled with honest pride, and she +humbly thanked her Maker that she had been bred to the use of scissors +and needle.</p> + +<p>Two days of this intoxicating popularity had just passed; the funeral +was over, and she ran in to the White Farm on her way home, to carry a +message, and to see with her own eyes how Samantha Ann Ripley was +comporting herself.</p> + +<p>"You didn't git out to the fun'ral, did ye, Samanthy?" she asked, as she +seated herself cosily by the kitchen window.</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't. I never could see the propriety o' goin' to see folks +dead that you never went to see alive."</p> + +<p>"How you talk! That's one way o' puttin' it! Well, everybody was lookin' +for you, and you missed a very pleasant fun'ral. David 'n' I arranged +everything as neat as wax, and it all went off like clock-work, if I do +say so as shouldn't. Mis' Pettigrove made a beautiful remains."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to hear it. It's the first beautiful thing she ever did make, +I guess!"</p> + +<p>"How you talk! Ain't you a leetle hard on Lyddy, Samanthy? She warn't +sech a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> bad neighbor, and she couldn't help bein' kind o' sour like. She +was born with her teeth on aidge, to begin with, and then she'd ben +through seas o' trouble with them Pettigroves."</p> + +<p>"Like enough; but even if folks has ben through seas o' trouble, they +needn't be everlastin'ly spittin' up salt brine. 'Passin' through the +valley of sorrow they make it full o' fountings;' that's what the Psalms +says 'bout bearin' trouble."</p> + +<p>"Lyddy warn't much on fountings," said Aunt Hitty contemplatively; "but, +there, we hadn't ought to speak nothin' but good o' the dead. Land +sakes! You'd oughter heard Elder Weekses remarks; they was splendid. We +ain't hed better remarks to any fun'ral here for years. I shouldn't 'a' +suspicioned he was preachin' 'bout Lyddy, though. Our minister's sick +abed, you know, 'n' warn't able to conduct the ex'cises. Si thinks he +went to bed a-purpose, but I wouldn't hev it repeated; so David got +Elder Weeks from Moderation. He warn't much acquainted with the remains, +but he done all the better for that. He's got a wond'ful faculty for +fun'rals. They say he's sent for for miles around. He'd just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> come from +a fun'ral nine miles the other side o' Moderation, up on the Blueb'ry +road; so he was a leetle mite late, 'n' David 'n' I was as nervous as +witches, for every room was cram full 'n' the thermometer stood at 87 in +the front entry, 'n' the bearers sot out there by the well-curb, with +the sun beatin' down on 'em, 'n' two of 'em, Squire Hicks 'n' Deacon +Dunn, was fast asleep. Inside, everything was as silent 's the tomb, +'cept the kitchen clock, 'n' that ticked loud enough to wake the dead +most. I thought I should go inter conniptions. I set out to git up 'n' +throw a shawl over it, it ticked so loud. Then, while we was all settin' +there 's solemn 's the last trump, what does old Aunt Beccy Burnham do +but git up from the kitchen corner where she sot, take the corn-broom +from behind the door, and sweep down a cobweb that was lodged up in one +o' the corners over the mantelpiece! We all looked at one 'nother, 'n' I +thought for a second somebody 'd laugh, but nobody dassed, 'n' there +warn't a sound in the room 's Aunt Beccy sot down agin' without movin' a +muscle in her face. Just then the minister drove in the yard with his +horse sweatin' like rain; but behind time as he was, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> never slighted +things a mite. His prayer was twenty-three minutes by the clock. +Twenty-three minutes is a leetle mite too long this kind o' weather, but +it was an all-embracin' prayer, 'n' no mistake! Si said when he got +through the Lord had his instructions on most any p'int that was likely +to come up durin' the season. When he got through his remarks there +warn't a dry eye in the room. I don't s'pose it made any odds whether he +was preachin' 'bout Mis' Pettigrove or the woman on the Blueb'ry +road,—it was a movin', elevatin' discourse, 'n' that was what we went +there for."</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't 'a' ben so elevatin' if he'd told the truth," said +Samantha; "but, there, I ain't goin' to spit no more spite out. Lyddy +Pettigrove's dead, 'n' I hope she's in heaven, and all I can say is, +that she'll be dretful busy up there ondoin' all she done down here. You +say there was a good many out?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; we ain't hed so many out for years, so Susanna Rideout says, and +she'd ought to know, for she ain't missed a fun'ral sence she was nine +years old, and she's eighty-one, come Thanksgivin', ef she holds out +that long. She says fun'rals is 'bout the only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> recreation she has, 'n' +she doos git a heap o' satisfaction out of 'em, 'n' no mistake. She'll +go early, afore any o' the comp'ny assembles. She'll say her clock must +'a' ben fast, 'n' then they'll ask her to set down 'n' make herself to +home. Then she'll choose her seat accordin' to the way the house is +planned. She won't git too fur from the remains, because she'll want to +see how the fam'ly appear when they take their last look, but she'll +want to git opposite a door, where she can look into the other rooms 'n' +see whether they shed any tears when the minister begins his remarks. +She allers takes a little gum camphire in her pocket, so't if anybody +faints away durin' the long prayer, she's right on hand. Bein' near the +door, she can hear all the minister says, 'n' how the order o' the +mourners is called, 'n' ef she ain't too fur from the front winders she +can hev a good view of the bearers and the mourners as they get into the +kerridges. There's a sight in knowin' how to manage at a fun'ral; it +takes faculty, same as anything else."</p> + +<p>"How does David bear up?" asked Miss Vilda.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's calm. David was always calm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> and resigned, you know. He shed +tears durin' the remarks, but I s'pose, mebbe, he was wishin' they was +more appropriate. He's about the forlornest creeter now you ever see' in +your life. There never was any self-assume to David Milliken. I declare +it's enough to make you cry jest to look at him. I cooked up victuals +enough to last him a week, but that ain't no way for men-folks to live. +When he comes in at noon-time he washes up out by the pump, 'n' then he +steps int' the butt'ry 'n' pours some cold tea out the teapot 'n' takes +a drink of it, 'n' then a bite o' cold punkin pie 'n' then more tea, all +the time stan'in' up to the shelf 'stid o' sittin' down like a +Christian, and lookin' out the winder as if his mind was in Hard +Scrabble 'n' his body in Buttertown, 'n' as if he didn't know whether he +was eatin' pie or putty. Land! I can't bear to watch him. I dassay he +misses Lyddy's jawin',—it must seem dretful quiet. I declare it seems +to me that meek, resigned folks, that's too good to squeal out when +they're abused, is allers the ones that gits the hardest knocks; but I +don't doubt but what there's goin' to be an everlastin' evenupness +somewheres."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + +<p>Samantha got up suddenly and went to the sink window. "It's 'bout time +the men come in for their dinner," she said. But though Jabe was mowing +the millstone hill, and though he wore a red flannel shirt, she could +not see him because of the tears that blinded her eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE XIII.</h2> + +<h4><i>The Village.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class='hanging'>PLEASANT RIVER IS BAPTIZED WITH THE SPIRIT OF ADOPTION.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>"But I didn't come in to talk 'bout the fun'ral," continued Aunt Hitty, +wishing that human flesh were transparent so that she could see through +Samanthy Ann Ripley's back. "I had an errant 'n' oughter ben in afore, +but I've ben so busy these last few days I couldn't find rest for the +sole o' my foot skersely. I've sewed in seven dif'rent houses sence I +was here last, and I've made it my biz'ness to try 'n' stop the gossip +'bout them children 'n' give folks the rights o' the matter, 'n' git 'em +interested to do somethin' for 'em. Now there ain't a livin' soul that +wants the boy, but"—</p> + +<p>"Timothy," said Miss Vilda hurriedly, "run and fetch me a passle of +chips, that's a good boy. Land sakes! Aunt Hitty, you needn't tell him +to his face that nobody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> wants him. He's got feelin's like any other +child."</p> + +<p>"He set there so quiet with a book in front of him I clean forgot he was +in the room," said Aunt Hitty apologetically. "Land! I'm so +tender-hearted I can't set my foot on a June bug 'n' 't aint' likely I'd +hurt anybody's feelin's, but as I was sayin' I can't find nobody that +wants the boy, but the Doctor's wife thinks p'raps she'll be willin' to +take the baby 'n' board her for nothing if somebody else 'll pay for her +clothes. At least she'll try her a spell 'n' see how she behaves, 'n' +whether she's good comp'ny for her own little girl that's a reg'lar limb +o' Satan anyway, 'n' consid'able worse sence she's had the scarlit +fever, 'n' deef as a post too, tho' they're blisterin' her, 'n' she may +git over it. I told her I'd bring Gay over to-night as I was comin' by, +bein' as how she was worn out with sickness 'n' house-cleanin' 'n' one +thing 'n' nother, 'n' couldn't come to git her very well herself. I +thought mebbe you'd be willin' to pay for her clothes ruther 'n hev so +much talk 'bout it, tho' I've told everybody that they walked right in +to the front gate, 'n' you 'n' Samanthy never set eyes on 'em before, +'n' didn't know where they come from."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>Samantha wiped her eyes surreptitiously with the dishcloth and turned a +scarlet face away from the window. Timothy was getting his "passle o' +chips." Gay had spied him, and toddling over to his side, holding her +dress above the prettiest little pair of feet that ever trod clover, had +sat down on him (a favorite pastime of hers), and after jolting her fat +little person up and down on his patient head, rolled herself over and +gave him a series of bear-hugs. Timothy looked pale and languid, +Samantha thought, and though Gay waited for a frolic with her most +adorable smile, he only lifted her coral necklace to kiss the place +where it hung, and tied on her sun-bonnet soberly. Samantha wished that +Vilda had been looking out of the window. Her own heart didn't need +softening, but somebody else's did, she was afraid.</p> + +<p>"I'm much obliged to you for takin' so much interest in the children," +said Miss Vilda primly, "and partic'lerly for clearin' our characters, +which everybody that lives in this village has to do for each other +'bout once a week, and the rest o' the time they take for spoilin' of +'em. And the Doctor's wife is very kind, but I shouldn't think o' +sendin' the baby away so sudden while the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> boy is still here. It +wouldn't be no kindness to Mis' Mayo, for she'd have a regular French +and Indian war right on her premises. It was here the children came, +just as you say, and it's our duty to see 'em settled in good homes, but +I shall take a few days more to think 'bout it, and I'll let her know by +Saturday night what we've decided to do.—That's the most meddlesome, +inteferin', gossipin' woman in this county," she added, as Mrs. Silas +Tarbox closed the front gate, "and I wouldn't have her do another day's +work at this house if I didn't have to. But it's worse for them that +don't have her than for them that does.—Now there's the Baptist +minister drivin' up to the barn. What under the canopy does he want? +Tell him Jabe ain't to home, Samanthy. No, you needn't, for he's +hitched, and seems to be comin' to the front door."</p> + +<p>"I never could abide the looks of him," said Samantha, peering over Miss +Vilda's shoulder. "No man with a light chiny blue eye like that oughter +be allowed to go int' the ministry; for you can't love your brother whom +you hev seen with that kind of an eye, and how are you goin' to love the +Lord whom you hev not seen?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Southwick, who was a spare little man in a long linen duster that +looked as if it had not been in the water as often as its wearer, sat +down timidly on the settle and cleared his throat.</p> + +<p>"I've come to talk with you on a little matter of business, Miss +Cummins. Brother Slocum has—a—conferred with me on the subject of +a—a—couple of unfortunate children who have—a—strayed, as it were, +under your hospitable roof, and whom—a—you are properly anxious to +place—a—under other rooves, as it were. Now you are aware, perhaps, +that Mrs. Southwick and I have no children living, though we have at +times had our quivers full of them—a—as the Scripture says; but the +Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord, +however, that is—a—neither here nor there. Brother Slocum has so +interested us that my wife (who is leading the Woman's Auxiliary Praying +Legion this afternoon or she would have come herself) wishes me to say +that she would like to receive one of these—a—little waifs into our +family on probation, as it were, and if satisfactory to both parties, to +bring it up—a—somewhat as our own, in the nurture and admonition of +the Lord."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<p>Samantha waited, in breathless suspense. Miss Vilda never would fling +away an opportunity of putting a nameless, homeless child under the roof +of a minister of the Gospel, even if he was a Baptist, with a chiny blue +eye.</p> + +<p>At this exciting juncture there was a clatter of small feet; the door +burst open, and the "unfortunate waifs" under consideration raced across +the floor to the table where Miss Vilda and Samantha were seated. Gay's +sun-bonnet trailed behind her, every hair on her head curled separately, +and she held her rag-doll upside down with entire absence of decorum. +Timothy's paleness, whatever the cause, had disappeared for the moment, +and his eyes shone like stars.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Vilda!" he cried breathlessly; "dear Miss Vilda and Samanthy, +the gray hen did want to have chickens, and that is what made her so +cross, and she is setting, and we've found her nest in the alder bushes +by the pond!"</p> + +<p>("G'ay hen's net in er buttes by er pond," sung Gay, like a Greek +chorus.)</p> + +<p>"And we sat down softly beside the pond, but Gay sat into it."</p> + +<p>("Gay sat wite into it, an' dolly dot her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> dess wet, but Gay nite ittle +dirl; Gay didn't det wet!")</p> + +<p>"And by and by the gray hen got off to get a drink of water"—</p> + +<p>("To det a dink o' water"—)</p> + +<p>"And we counted the eggs, and there were thirteen big ones!"</p> + +<p>("Fir-teen drate bid ones!")</p> + +<p>"So that the darling thing had to s-w-ell out to cover them up!"</p> + +<p>("Darlin' fin ser-welled out an' tuvvered 'em up!") said Gay, going +through the same operation.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Miss Vilda, looking covertly at Mr. Southwick (who had an +eye for beauty, notwithstanding Samantha's strictures), "that's very +nice, but you mustn't stay here now; we are talkin' to the minister. Run +away, both of you, and let the settin' hen alone.—Well, as I was goin' +to say, Mr. Southwick, you're very kind and so 's your wife, and I'm +sure Timothy, that's the boy's name, would be a great help and comfort +to both of you, if you're fond of children, and we should be glad to +have him near by, for we feel kind of responsible for him, though he's +no relation of ours. And we'll think about the matter over night, and +let you know in the morning."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, exactly, I see, I see; but it was the young child, the—a—female +child, that my wife desired to take into her family. She does not care +for boys, and she is particularly fond of girls, and so am I, very fond +of girls—a—in reason."</p> + +<p>Miss Vilda all at once made up her mind on one point, and only wished +that Samantha wouldn't stare at her as if she had never seen her before. +"I'm sorry to disappoint your wife, Mr. Southwick. It seems that Mrs. +Tarbox and Jabez Slocum have been offerin' the child to every family in +the village, and I s'pose bime bye they'll have the politeness to offer +her to me; but, at any rate, whether they do or not, I propose to keep +her myself, and I'd thank you to tell folks so, if they ask you. Mebbe +you'd better give it out from the pulpit, though I can let Mis' Tarbox +know, and that will answer the same purpose. This is the place the baby +was brought, and this is the place she's goin' to stay."</p> + +<p>"Vildy, you're a good woman!" cried Samantha, when the door closed on +the Reverend Mr. Southwick. "I'm proud o' you, Vildy, 'n' I take back +all the hard thoughts I've ben hevin' about you lately. The idee<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> o' +that chiny-eyed preacher thinkin' he was goin' to carry that child home +in his buggy with hardly so much as sayin' 'Thank you, marm!' I like his +Baptist imperdence! His wife hed better wash his duster afore she adopts +any children. If they'd carry their theories 'bout immersion 's fur as +their close, 't wouldn't be no harm."</p> + +<p>"I don' know as I'd have agreed to keep either of 'em ef the whole +village hadn't intefered and wanted to manage my business for me, and be +so dretful charitable all of a sudden, and dictate to me and try to show +me my duty. I haven't had a minute's peace for more 'n a fortnight, and +now I hope they'll let me alone. I'll take the boy to the city +to-morrow, if I live to see the light, and when I come back I'll tie up +the gate and keep the neighbors out till this nine days' wonder gets +crowded out o' their heads by somethin' new."</p> + +<p>"You're goin' to take Timothy to the city, are you?" asked Samantha +sharply.</p> + +<p>"That's what I'm goin' to do; and the sooner the better for everybody +concerned. Timothy, shut that door and run out to the barn, and don't +you let me see you again till supper-time; do you hear me?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And you're goin' to put him in one o' them Homes?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am. You see for yourself we can't find any place fer him +hereabouts."</p> + +<p>"Well, I've ben waitin' for days to see what you was goin' to do, and +now I'll tell you what I'm goin' to do, if you'd like to know. I'm goin' +to keep Timothy myself; to have and to hold from this time forth and for +evermore, as the Bible says. That's what I'm goin' to do!"</p> + +<p>Miss Cummins gasped with astonishment.</p> + +<p>"I mean what I say, Vildy. I ain't so well off as some, but I ain't a +pauper, not by no means. I've ben layin' by a little every year for +twenty years, 'n' you know well enough what for; but that's all over for +ever and ever, amen, thanks be! And I ain't got chick nor child, nor +blood relation in the world, and if I choose to take somebody to do for, +why, it's nobody's affairs but my own."</p> + +<p>"You can't do it, and you sha'n't do it!" said Miss Vilda excitedly. +"You ain't goin' to make a fool of yourself, if I can help it. We can't +have two children clutterin' up this place and eatin' us out of house +and home, and that's the end of it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It ain't the end of it, Vildy Cummins, not by no manner o' means! If we +can't keep both of 'em, do you know what I think 'bout it? I think we'd +ought to give away the one that everybody wants and keep the other that +nobody does want, more fools they! That's religion, accordin' to my way +o' thinkin'. I love the baby, dear knows; but see here. Who planned this +thing all out? Timothy. Who took that baby up in his own arms and +fetched her out o' that den o' thieves? Timothy. Who stood all the resk +of gittin' that innocent lamb out o' that sink of iniquity, and hed wit +enough to bring her to a place where she could grow up respectable? +Timothy. And do you ketch him say in' a word 'bout himself from fust to +last? Not by no manner o' means. That ain't Timothy. And what doos the +lovin' gen'rous, faithful little soul git? He gits his labor for his +pains. He hears folks say right to his face that nobody wants him and +everybody wants Gay. And if he didn't have a disposition like a +cherubim-an-seraphim (and better, too, for they 'continually do cry,' +now I come to think of it), he'd be sour and bitter, 'stid o' bein' good +as an angel in a picture-book from sun-up to sun-down!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<p>Miss Vilda was crushed by the overpowering weight of this argument, and +did not even try to stem the resistless tide of Samantha's eloquence.</p> + +<p>"And now folks is all of a high to take in the baby for a spell, jest +for a plaything, because her hair curls, 'n' she's handsome, 'n' light +complected, 'n' cunning, 'n' a girl (whatever that amounts to is more 'n +I know!), and that blessed boy is tread under foot as if he warn't no +better 'n an angleworm! And do you mean to tell me you don't see the +Lord's hand in this hull bus'ness, Vildy Cummins? There's other kinds o' +meracles besides buddin' rods 'n' burnin' bushes 'n' loaves 'n' fishes. +What do you s'pose guided that boy to pass all the other houses in this +village 'n' turn in at the White Farm? Don't you s'pose he was led? +Well, I don't need a Bible nor yit a concordance to tell <i>me</i> he was. +<i>He</i> didn't know there was plenty 'n' to spare inside this gate; a +great, empty house 'n' full cellar, 'n' hay 'n' stock in the barn, and +cowpons in the bank, 'n' two lone, mis'able women inside, with nothin' +to do but keep flies out in summer-time, 'n' pile wood on in +winter-time, till they got so withered up 'n'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> gnarly they warn't hardly +wuth getherin' int' the everlastin' harvest! <i>He</i> didn't know it, I say, +but the Lord did; 'n' the Lord's intention was to give us a chance to +make our callin' 'n' election sure, 'n' we can't do that by turnin' our +backs on His messenger, and puttin' of him ou'doors! The Lord intended +them children should stay together or He wouldn't 'a' started 'em out +that way; now that's as plain as the nose on my face, 'n' that's +consid'able plain as I've ben told afore now, 'n' can see for myself in +the glass without any help from anybody, thanks be!"</p> + +<p>"Everybody 'll laugh at us for a couple o' soft-hearted fools," said +Miss Vilda feebly, after a long pause. "We'll be a spectacle for the +whole village."</p> + +<p>"What if we be? Let's be a spectacle, then!" said Samantha stoutly. +"We'll be a spectacle for the angels as well as the village, when you +come to that! When they look down 'n' see us gittin' outside this +dooryard 'n' doin' one o' the Lord's chores for the first time in ten or +fifteen years, I guess they'll be consid'able excited! But there's no +use in talkin', I've made up my mind, Vildy. We've lived together for +thirty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> years 'n' ain't hardly hed an ugly word ('n' dretful dull it hez +ben for both of us!), 'n' I sha'n't live nowheres else without you tell +me to go; but I've got lots o' good work in me yit, 'n' I'm goin' to +take that boy up 'n' give him a chance, 'n' let him stay alongside o' +the thing he loves best in the world. And if there ain't room for all of +us in the fourteen rooms o' this part o' the house, Timothy 'n' I can +live in the L, as you've allers intended I should if I got married. And +I guess this is 'bout as near to gittin' married as either of us ever +'ll git now, 'n' consid'able nearer 'n I've expected to git, lately. And +I'll tell Timothy this very night, when he goes to bed, for he's +grievin' himself into a fit o' sickness, as anybody can tell that's got +a glass eye in their heads!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE XIV.</h2> + +<h4><i>A Point of Honor.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class="hanging">TIMOTHY JESSUP RUNS AWAY A SECOND TIME, AND, LIKE OTHER BLESSINGS, +BRIGHTENS AS HE TAKES HIS FLIGHT.</p></blockquote> + + +<p>It was almost dusk, and Jabe Slocum was struggling with the nightly +problem of getting the cow from the pasture without any expenditure of +personal effort. Timothy was nowhere to be found, or he would go and be +glad to do the trifling service for his kind friend without other +remuneration than a cordial "Thank you." Failing Timothy there was +always Billy Pennell, who would not go for a "Thank you," being a boy of +a sordid and miserly manner of thought, but who would go for a cent and +chalk the cent up, which made it a more reasonable charge than would +appear to the casual observer. So Jabe lighted his corn-cob pipe, and +extended himself under a willow-tree beside the pond, singing in a +cheerful fashion,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'Tremblin' sinner, calm your fears!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jesus is always ready.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cease your sin and dry your tears,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jesus is always ready!'"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"And dretful lucky for you He is!" muttered Samantha, who had come to +look for Timothy. "Jabe! Jabe! Has Timothy gone for the cow?"</p> + +<p>"Dunno. Jest what I was goin' to ask you when I got roun' to it."</p> + +<p>"Well, how are you goin' to find out?"</p> + +<p>"Find out by seein' the cow if he hez gone, an' by not seein' no cow if +he hain't. I'm comf'table either way it turns out. One o' them writin' +fellers that was up here summerin' said, 'They also serve who'd ruther +stan' 'n' wait' 'd be a good motto for me, 'n' he's about right when +I've ben hayin'. Look down there at the shiners, ain't they cool? Gorry! +I wish I was a fish!"</p> + +<p>"If you was you wouldn't wear your fins out, that's certain!"</p> + +<p>"Come now, Samanthy, don't be hard on a feller after his day's work. +Want me to git up 'n' blow the horn for the boy?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," answered Samantha cuttingly. "I wouldn't ask you to +spend your precious breath for fear you'd be too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> lazy to draw it in +agin. When I want to get anything done I can gen'ally spunk up sprawl +enough to do it myself, thanks be!"</p> + +<p>"Wall now, Samanthy, you cheat the men-folks out of a heap o' pleasure +bein' so all-fired independent, did ye know it?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'Tremblin' sinner, calm your fears!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jesus is always ready.'"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"When 'd you see him last?"</p> + +<p>"I hain't seen him sence 'bout noon-time. Warn't he into supper?"</p> + +<p>"No. We thought he was off with you. Well, I guess he's gone for the +cow, but I should think he'd be hungry. It's kind o' queer."</p> + +<p>Miss Vilda was seated at the open window in the kitchen, and Lady Gay +was enthroned in her lap, sleepy, affectionate, tractable, adorable.</p> + +<p>"How would you like to live here at the White Farm, deary?" asked Miss +Vilda.</p> + +<p>"O, yet. I yike to live here if Timfy doin' to live here too. I yike oo, +I yike Samfy, I yike Dabe, I yike white tat 'n' white tow 'n' white +bossy 'n' my boofely desses 'n' my boofely dolly 'n' er day hen 'n' I +yikes evelybuddy!"</p> + +<p>"But you'd stay here like a nice little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> girl if Timothy had to go away, +wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't tay like nite ittle dirl if Timfy do 'way. If Timfy do +'way, I do too. I's Timfy's dirl."</p> + +<p>"But you're too little to go away with Timothy."</p> + +<p>"Ven I ky an keam an kick an hold my bwef—I s'ow you how!"</p> + +<p>"No, you needn't show me how," said Vilda hastily. "Who do you love +best, deary, Samanthy or me?"</p> + +<p>"I yuv Timfy bet. Lemme twy rit-man-poor-man-bedder-man-fief on your +buckalins, pease."</p> + +<p>"Then you'll stay here and be my little girl, will you?"</p> + +<p>"Yet, I tay here an' be Timfy's ittle dirl. Now oo p'ay by your own seff +ittle while, Mit Vildy, pease, coz I dot to det down an find Samfy an' +put my dolly to bed coz she's defful seepy."</p> + +<p>"It's half past eight," said Samantha coming into the kitchen, "and +Timothy ain't nowheres to be found, and Jabe hain't seen him sence +noon-time."</p> + +<p>"You needn't be scared for fear you've lost your bargain," remarked Miss +Vilda<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> sarcastically. "There ain't so many places open to the boy that +he'll turn his back on this one, I guess!"<br /><br /></p> + +<p>Yet, though the days of chivalry were over, that was precisely what +Timothy Jessup had done.</p> + +<p>Wilkins's Wood was a quiet stretch of timber land that lay along the +banks of Pleasant River; and though the natives (for the most part) +never noticed but that it was paved with asphalt and roofed in with +oilcloth, yet it was, nevertheless, the most tranquil bit of loveliness +in all the country round. For there the river twisted and turned and +sparkled in the sun, and "bent itself in graceful courtesies of +farewell" to the hills it was leaving; and kissed the velvet meadows +that stooped to drink from its brimming cup; and lapped the trees +gently, as they hung over its crystal mirrors the better to see their +own fresh beauty. And here it wound "about and in and out," laughing in +the morning sunlight, to think of the tiny streamlet out of which it +grew; paling and shimmering at evening when it held the stars and +moonbeams in its bosom; and trembling in the night wind to think of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> the +great unknown sea into whose arms it was hurrying.</p> + +<p>Here was a quiet pool where the rushes bent to the breeze and the quail +dipped her wing; and there a winding path where the cattle came down to +the edge, and having looked upon the scene and found it all very good, +dipped their sleek heads to drink and drink and drink of the river's +nectar. Here the first pink mayflowers pushed their sweet heads through +the reluctant earth, and waxen Indian pipes grew in the moist places, +and yellow violets hid themselves beneath their modest leaves.</p> + +<p>And here sat Timothy, with all his heart in his eyes, bidding good-by to +all this soft and tender loveliness. And there, by his side, faithful +unto death (but very much in hopes of something better), sat Rags, and +thought it a fine enough prospect, but one that could be beaten at all +points by a bit of shed-view he knew of,—a superincumbent hash-pan, an +empty milk-dish, and an emaciated white cat flying round a corner! The +remembrance of these past joys brought the tears to his eyes, but he +forbore to let them flow lest he should add to the griefs of his little +master, which, for aught he knew, might be as heavy as his own.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<p>Timothy was comporting himself, at this trying crisis, neither as a hero +nor as a martyr. There is no need of exaggerating his virtues. Enough to +say, not that he was a hero, but that he had in him the stuff out of +which heroes are made. Win his heart and fire his imagination, and there +is no splendid deed of which the little hero would not have been +capable. But that he knew precisely what he was leaving behind, or what +he was going forth to meet, would be saying too much. One thing he did +know: that Miss Vilda had said distinctly that two was one too many, and +that he was the objectionable unit referred to. And in addition to this +he had more than once heard that very day that nobody in Pleasant River +wanted him, but that there would be plenty of homes open to Gay if he +were safely out of the way. A little allusion to a Home, which he caught +when he was just bringing in a four-leafed clover to show to Samantha, +completed the stock of ideas from which he reasoned. He was very clear +on one point, and that was that he would never be taken alive and put in +a Home with a capital H. He respected Homes, he approved of them, for +other boys, but personally they were un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>pleasant to him, and he had no +intention of dwelling in one if he could help it. The situation did not +appear utterly hopeless in his eyes. He had his original dollar and +eighty-five cents in money; Rags and he had supped like kings off wild +blackberries and hard gingerbread; and, more than all, he was young and +mercifully blind to all but the immediate present. Yet even in taking +the most commonplace possible view of his character it would be folly to +affirm that he was anything but unhappy. His soul was not sustained by +the consciousness of having done a self-forgetting and manly act, for he +was not old enough to have such a consciousness, which is something the +good God gives us a little later on, to help us over some of the hard +places.</p> + +<p>"Nobody wants me! Nobody wants me!" he sighed, as he lay down under the +trees. "Nobody ever did want me,—I wonder why! And everybody loves my +darling Gay and wants to keep her, and I don't wonder about that. But, +oh, if I only belonged to somebody! (Cuddle up close, little Ragsy; +we've got nobody but just each other, and you can put your head into the +other pocket that hasn't got the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> gingerbread in it, if you please!) If +I only was like that little butcher's boy that he lets ride on the seat +with him, and hold the reins when he takes meat into the houses,—or if +I only was that freckled-face boy with the straw hat that lives on the +way to the store! His mother keeps coming out to the gate on purpose to +kiss him. Or if I was even Billy Pennell! He's had three mothers and two +fathers in three years, Jabe says. Jabe likes me, I think, but he can't +have me live at his house, because his mother is the kind that needs +plenty of room, he says,—and Samanthy has no house. But I did what I +tried to do. I got away from Minerva Court and found a lovely place for +Gay to live, with two mothers instead of one; and maybe they'll tell her +about me when she grows bigger, and then she'll know I didn't want to +run away from her, but whether they tell her or not, she's only a little +baby, and boys must always take care of girls; that's what my +dream-mother whispers to me in the night,—and that's ... what ... I'm +always ..."</p> + +<p>Come! gentle sleep, and take this friendless little knight-errant in thy +kind arms! Bear him across the rainbow bridge, and lull<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> him to rest +with the soft plash of waves and sighing of branches! Cover him with thy +mantle of dreams, sweet goddess, and give him in sleep what he hath +never had in waking!<br /><br /></p> + +<p>Meanwhile, a more dramatic scene was being enacted at the White Farm. It +was nine o'clock, and Samantha had gone from pond to garden, shed to +barn, and gate to dairy, a dozen times, but there was no sign of +Timothy. Gay had refused to be undressed till "Timfy" appeared on the +premises, but had fallen asleep in spite of the most valiant resolution, +and was borne upstairs by Samantha, who made her ready for bed without +waking her.</p> + +<p>As she picked up the heap of clothes to lay them neatly on a chair, a +bit of folded paper fell from the bosom of the little dress. She glanced +at it, turned it over and over, read it quite through. Then, after +retiring behind her apron a moment, she went swiftly downstairs to the +dining-room where Miss Avilda and Jabe were sitting.</p> + +<p>"There!" she exclaimed, with a triumphant sob, as she laid the paper +down in front of the astonished couple. "That's a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> letter from Timothy. +He's run away, 'n' I don't blame him a mite 'n' I hope folks 'll be +satisfied now they've got red of the blessed angel, 'n' turned him +outdoors without a roof to his head! Read it out, 'n' see what kind of a +boy we've showed the door to!"<br /><br /></p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Dere Miss vilder and sermanthy. i herd you say i cood not stay here +enny longer and other peeple sed nobuddy wood have me and what you +sed about the home but as i do not like homes i am going to run +away if its all the same to you. Please give Jabe back his birds +egs with my love and i am sorry i broak the humming-bird's one but +it was a naxident. Pleas take good care of gay and i will come back +and get her when I am ritch. I thank you very mutch for such a +happy time and the white farm is the most butifull plase in the +whole whirld.</p> +<p><span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 26em;">Tim</span>.</p> + +<p>p. s. i wood not tell you if i was going to stay but billy penel +thros stones at the white cow witch i fere will get into her milk +so no more from</p> +<p><span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 26em;">Tim</span>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<p>i am sorry not to say good by but i am afrade on acount of the home +so i put them here. </p></div> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img180.jpg" alt="Kisses" title="Kisses" /></div> + +<p>The paper fell from Miss Vilda's trembling fingers, and two salt tears +dropped into the kissing places.</p> + +<p>"The Lord forgive me!" she said at length (and it was many a year since +any one had seen her so moved). "The Lord forgive me for a hard-hearted +old woman, and give me a chance to make it right. Not one reproachful +word does he say to us about showin' partiality,—not one! And my heart +has kind of yearned over that boy from the first, but just because he +had Marthy's eyes he kept bringin' up the past to me, and I never looked +at him without rememberin' how hard and unforgivin' I'd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> ben to her, and +thinkin' if I'd petted and humored her a little and made life +pleasanter, perhaps she'd never have gone away. And I've scrimped and +saved and laid up money till it comes hard to pay it out, and when I +thought of bringin' up and schoolin' two children I cal'lated I couldn't +afford it; and yet I've got ten thousand dollars in the bank and the +best farm for miles around. Samanthy, you go fetch my bonnet and +shawl,—Jabe, you go and hitch up Maria, and we'll go after that boy and +fetch him back if he's to be found anywheres above ground! And if we +come across any more o' the same family trampin' around the country, +we'll bring them along home while we're about it, and see if we can't +get some sleep and some comfort out o' life. And the Missionary Society +can look somewheres else for money. There's plenty o' folks that don't +get good works set right down in their front yards for 'em to do. I'll +look out for the individyals for a spell, and let the other folks +support the societies!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE XV.</h2> + +<h4><i>Wilkins's Woods.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class="hanging">LIKE ALL DOGS IN FICTION THE FAITHFUL RAGS GUIDES MISS VILDA TO HIS +LITTLE MASTER.</p></blockquote> + + +<p>Samantha ran out to the barn to hold the lantern and see that Jabe +didn't go to sleep while he was harnessing Maria. But he seemed +unusually "spry" for him, although he was conducting himself in a +somewhat strange and unusual manner. His loose figure shook from time to +time, as with severe chills; he seemed too weak to hold up the shafts, +and so he finally dropped them and hung round Maria's neck in a sort of +mild, speechless convulsion.</p> + +<p>"What under the canopy ails you, Jabe Slocum?" asked Samantha. "I s'pose +it's one o' them everlastin' old addled jokes o' yourn you're tryin' to +hatch out, but it's a poor time to be jokin' now. What's the matter with +you?"</p> + +<p>"'Ask me no questions 'n' I'll tell you no lies,' is an awful good +motto," chuckled Jabe,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> with a new explosion of mirth that stretched his +mouth to an alarming extent. "Oh, there, I can't hold in 'nother minute. +I shall bust if I don' tell somebody! Set down on that nail kag, +Samanthy, 'n' I'll let you hev a leetle slice o' this joke—if you'll +keep it to yourself. You see I know—'bout—whar—to look—for this +here—runaway!"</p> + +<p>"You hev n't got him stowed away anywheres, hev you? If you hev, it'll +be the last joke you'll play on Vildy Cummins, I can tell you that much, +Jabe Slocum."</p> + +<p>"No, I hain't stowed him away, but I can tell putty nigh whar he's +stowed hisself away, and I'm ready to die a-laffin' to see how it's all +turned out jest as I suspicioned 't would. You see, Samanthy Ann, I +thought 'bout a week ago 't would be well enough to kind o' create a +demand for the young ones so 't they'd hev some kind of a market value, +and so I got Elder Southwick 'n' Aunt Hitty kind o' started on that +tack, 'n' it worked out slick as a whistle, tho' they didn't know I was +usin' of 'em as innercent instruments, and Aunt Hitty don't need much +encouragement to talk; it's a heap easier for her to drizzle 'n it is to +hold up! Well, I've ben surmisin' for a week that the boy meant to run +away, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> to-day I was dead sure of it; for he come to me this +afternoon, when I was restin' a spell on account o' the hot sun, and he +was awful low-sperrited, 'n' he asked me every namable kind of a +question you ever hearn tell of, and all so simple-minded that I jest +turned him inside out 'thout his knowin' what I was doin'. Well, when I +found out what he was up to I could 'a' stopped him then 'n' there, tho' +I don' know 's I would anyhow, for I shouldn't like livin' in a 'sylum +any better 'n he doos; but thinks I to myself, thinks I, I'd better let +him run away, jest as he's a plannin',—and why? Cause it'll show what +kind o' stuff he's made of, and that he ain't no beggar layin' roun' +whar he ain't wanted, but a self-respectin' boy that's wuth lookin' +after. And thinks I, Samanthy, 'n' I know the wuth of him a'ready, but +there's them that hain't waked up to it yit, namely, Miss Vildy Trypheny +Cummins; and as Miss Vildy Trypheny Cummins is that kind o' cattle that +can't be drove, but hez to be kind o' coaxed along, mebbe this +runnin'-away bizness 'll be the thing that'll fetch her roun' to our way +o' thinkin'. Now I wouldn't deceive nobody for a farm down East with a +pig on it, but thinks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> I, there ain't no deceivin' 'bout this. He don' +know I know he's goin' to run away, so he's all square; and he never +told me nothin' 'bout his plans, so I'm all square; and Miss Vildy's +good as eighteen-karat gold when she gets roun' to it, so she'll be all +square; and Samanthy's got her blinders on 'n' don't see nothin' to the +right nor to the left, so she's all square. And I ain't inteferin' with +nobody. I'm jest lettin' things go the way they've started, 'n' stan'in' +to one side to see whar they'll fetch up, kind o' like Providence. I'm +leavin' Miss Vildy a free agent, but I'm shapin' circumstances so 's to +give her a chance. But, land! if I'd fixed up the thing to suit myself I +couldn't 'a' managed it as Timothy hez, 'thout knowin' that he was +managin' anything. Look at that letter bizness now! I couldn't 'a' writ +that letter better myself! And the sperrit o' the little feller, jest +takin' his dorg 'n' lightin' out with nothin' but a perlite good-bye! +Well I can't stop to talk no more 'bout it now, or we won't ketch him, +but we'll jest try Wilkins's Woods, Maria, 'n' see how that goes. The +river road leads to Edgewood 'n' Hillside, whar there's consid'able +hayin' bein' done, as I happened to mention to Timo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>thy this afternoon; +and plenty o' blackberries 'side the road, 'specially after you pass the +wood-pile on the left-hand side, whar there's a reg'lar garding of 'em +right 'side of an old hoss-blanket that's layin' there; one that I +happened to leave there one time when I was sleepin' ou'doors for my +health, and that was this afternoon 'bout five o'clock, so I guess it +hain't changed its location sence."<br /><br /></p> + +<p>Jabe and Miss Vilda drove in silence along the river road that skirted +Wilkins's Woods, a place where Jabe had taken Timothy more than once, so +he informed Miss Vilda, and a likely road for him to travel if he were +on his way to some of the near villages.</p> + +<p>Poor Miss Vilda! Fifty years old, and in twenty summers and winters +scarcely one lovely thought had blossomed into lovelier deed and shed +its sweetness over her arid and colorless life. And now, under the magic +spell of tender little hands and innocent lips, of luminous eyes that +looked wistfully into hers for a welcome, and the touch of a groping +helplessness that fastened upon her strength, the woman in her woke into +life, and the beauty and fragrance of long-ago summers came back again +as in a dream.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + +<p>After having driven three or four miles, they heard a melancholy sound +in the distance; and as they approached a huge wood-pile on the left +side of the road, they saw a small woolly form perched on a little rise +of ground, howling most melodiously at the August moon, that hung like a +ball of red fire in the cloudless sky.</p> + +<p>"That's a sign of death in the family, ain't it, Jabe?" whispered Miss +Vilda faintly.</p> + +<p>"So they say," he answered cheerfully; "but if 't is, I can 'count for +it, bein' as how I fertilized the pond lilies with a mess o' four white +kittens this afternoon; and as Rags was with me when I done it, he may +know what he's bayin' 'bout,—if 't is Rags, 'n' it looks enough like +him to be him,—'n' it is him, by Jiminy, 'n' Timothy's sure to be +somewheres near. I'll get out 'n' look roun' a little."</p> + +<p>"You set right still, Jabe, I'll get out myself, for if I find that boy +I've got something to say to him that nobody can say for me."</p> + +<p>As Jabe drew the wagon up beside the fence, Rags bounded out to meet +them. He knew Maria, bless your soul, the minute he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> clapped his eyes on +her, and as he approached Miss Vilda's congress boot his quivering +whiskers seemed to say, "Now, where have I smelled that boot before? If +I mistake not, it has been applied to me more than once. Ha! I have it! +Miss Vilda Cummins of the White Farm, owner of the white cat and +hash-pan, and companion of the lady with the firm hand, who wields the +broom!" whereupon he leaped up on Miss Cummins's black alpaca skirts, +and made for her flannel garters in a way that she particularly +disliked.</p> + +<p>"Now," said she, "if he's anything like the dogs you hear tell of, he'll +take us right to Timothy."</p> + +<p>"Wall, I don' know," said Jabe cautiously; "there's so many kinds o' +dorg in him you can't hardly tell what he will do. When dorgs is mixed +beyond a certain p'int it kind o' muddles up their instincks, 'n' you +can't rely on 'em. Still you might try him. Hold still, 'n' see what +he'll do."</p> + +<p>Miss Vilda "held still," and Rags jumped on her skirts.</p> + +<p>"Now, set down, 'n' see whar he'll go."</p> + +<p>Miss Vilda sat down, and Rags went into her lap.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now, make believe start somewheres, 'n' mebbe he'll get ahead 'n' put +you on the right track."</p> + +<p>Miss Vilda did as she was told, and Rags followed close at her heels.</p> + +<p>"Gorry! I never see sech a fool!—or wait,—I'll tell you what's the +matter with him. Mebbe he ain't sech a fool as he looks. You see, he +knows Timothy wants to run away and don't want to be found 'n' clapped +into a 'sylum, 'n' nuther does he. And not bein' sure o' your +intentions, he ain't a-goin' to give hisself away; that's the way I size +Mr. Rags up!"</p> + +<p>"Nice doggy, nice doggy!" shuddered Miss Vilda, as Rags precipitated +himself upon her again. "Show me where Timothy is, and then we'll go +back home and have some nice bones. Run and find your little master, +that's a good doggy!"</p> + +<p>It would be a clever philosopher who could divine Rags's special method +of logic, or who could write him down either as fool or sage. Suffice it +to say that, at this moment (having run in all other possible +directions, and wishing, doubtless, to keep on moving), he ran round the +wood-pile; and Miss Vilda, following close behind, came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> upon a little +figure stretched on a bit of gray blanket. The pale face shone paler in +the moonlight; there were traces of tears on the cheeks; but there was a +heavenly smile on his parted lips, as if his dream-mother had rocked him +to sleep in her arms. Rags stole away to Jabe (for even mixed dogs have +some delicacy), and Miss Vilda went down on her knees beside the +sleeping boy.</p> + +<p>"Timothy, Timothy, wake up!"</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>"Timothy, wake up! I've come to take you home!"</p> + +<p>Timothy woke with a sob and a start at that hated word, and seeing Miss +Vilda at once jumped to conclusions.</p> + +<p>"Please, please, dear Miss Vildy, don't take me to the Home, but find me +some other place, and I'll never, never run away from it!"</p> + +<p>"My blessed little boy, I've come to take you back to your own home at +the White Farm."</p> + +<p>It was too good to believe all at once. "Nobody wants me there," he said +hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"Everybody wants you there," replied Miss Vilda, with a softer note in +her voice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> than anybody had ever heard there before. "Samantha wants +you, Gay wants you, and Jabe is waiting out here with Maria, for he +wants you."</p> + +<p>"But do you want me?" faltered the boy.</p> + +<p>"I want you more than all of 'em put together, Timothy; I want you, and +I need you most of all," cried Miss Vilda, with the tears coursing down +her withered cheeks; "and if you'll only forgive me for hurtin' your +feelin's and makin' you run away, you shall come to the White Farm and +be my own boy as long as you live."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Vildy, darling Miss Vildy! are we both of us adopted, and are +we truly going to live with you all the time and never have to go to the +Home?" Whereupon, the boy flung his loving arms round Miss Vilda's neck +in an ecstasy of gratitude; and in that sweet embrace of trust and +confidence and joy, the stone was rolled away, once and forever, from +the sepulchre of Miss Vilda's heart, and Easter morning broke there.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SCENE XVI.</h2> + +<h4><i>The New Homestead.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p class="hanging">TIMOTHY'S QUEST IS ENDED, AND SAMANTHA SAYS "COME ALONG, DAVE!"</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>"Jabe Slocum! Do you know it's goin' on seven o'clock 'n' not a single +chore done?"</p> + +<p>Jabe yawned, turned over, and listened to Samantha's unwelcome voice, +which (considerably louder than the voice of conscience) came from the +outside world to disturb his delicious morning slumbers.</p> + +<p>"Jabe Slocum! Do you hear me?"</p> + +<p>"Hear you? Gorry! you'd wake the seven sleepers if they was any whar +within ear-shot!"</p> + +<p>"Well, will you git up?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll git up if you're goin' to hev a brash 'bout it, but I wish +you hedn't waked me so awful suddent. 'Don't ontwist the mornin' glory' +'s my motto. Wait a spell 'n' the sun 'll do it, 'n' save a heap o' wear +'n' tear besides. Go 'long! I'll git up."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've heerd that story afore, 'n' I won't go 'long tell I hear you step +foot on the floor."</p> + +<p>"Scoot! I tell yer I'll be out in a jiffy."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think I see yer. Your jiffies are consid'able like golden +opportunities, there ain't more 'n one of 'em in a lifetime!" and having +shot this Parthian arrow Samantha departed, as one having done her duty +in that humble sphere of action to which it had pleased Providence to +call her.</p> + +<p>These were beautiful autumn days at the White Farm. The orchards were +gleaming, the grapes hung purple on the vines, and the odor of ripening +fruit was in the hazy air. The pink spirea had cast its feathery petals +by the gray stone walls, but the welcome golden-rod bloomed in royal +profusion along the brown waysides, and a crimson leaf hung here and +there in the treetops, just to give a hint of the fall styles in color. +Heaps of yellow pumpkins and squashes lay in the corners of the fields; +cornstalks bowed their heads beneath the weight of ripened ears; beans +threatened to burst through their yellow pods; the sound of the +threshing machine was heard in the land; and the "hull univarse wanted +to be waited on to once,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> according to Jabe Slocum; for, as he +affirmed, "Yer couldn't ketch up with your work nohow, for if yer set up +nights 'n' worked Sundays, the craps 'd ripen 'n' go to seed on yer +'fore yer could git 'em harvested!"</p> + +<p>And if there was peace and plenty without there was quite as much within +doors.</p> + +<p>"I can't hardly tell what's the matter with me these days," said +Samantha Ann to Miss Vilda, as they sat peeling and slicing apples for +drying. "My heart has felt like a stun these last years, and now all to +once it's so soft I'm ashamed of it. Seems to me there never was such a +summer! The hay never smelt so sweet, the birds never sang so well, the +currants never jelled so hard! Why I can't kick the cat, though she's +more everlastin'ly under foot 'n ever, 'n' pretty soon I sha'n't even +have sprawl enough to jaw Jabe Slocum. I b'lieve it's nothin' in the +world but them children! They keep a runnin' after me, 'n' it's dear +Samanthy here, 'n' dear Samanthy there, jest as if I warn't a hombly old +maid; 'n' they take holt o' my hands on both sides o' me, 'n' won't stir +a step tell I go to see the chickens with 'em, 'n' the pig, 'n' one +thing 'n' 'nother, 'n' clappin' their hands<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> when I make 'em gingerbread +men! And that reminds me, I see the school-teacher goin' down along this +mornin', 'n' I run out to see how Timothy was gittin' along in his +studies. She says he's the most ex-tra-ordi-nary scholar in this +deestrick. She says he takes holt of every book she gives him jest as if +'t was reviewin' 'stid o' the first time over. She says when he speaks +pieces, Friday afternoons, all the rest o' the young ones set there with +their jaws hanging 'n' some of 'em laughin' 'n' cryin' 't the same time. +She says we'd oughter see some of his comp'sitions, 'n' she'll show us +some as soon as she gits 'em back from her beau that works at the +Waterbury Watch Factory, and they're goin' to be married 's quick as she +gits money enough saved up to buy her weddin' close; 'n' I told her not +to put it off too long or she'd hev her close on her hands, 'stid of her +back. She says Timothy's at the head of the hull class, but, land! there +ain't a boy in it that knows enough to git his close on right sid' out. +She's a splendid teacher, Miss Boothby is! She tells me the seeleck men +hev raised her pay to four dollars a week 'n' she to board herself, 'n' +she's wuth every cent of it. I like to see folks well paid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> that's got +the patience to set in doors 'n' cram information inter young ones that +don't care no more 'bout learn in' 'n' a skunk-blackbird. She give me +Timothy's writin' book, for you to see what he writ in it yesterday, 'n' +she hed to keep him in 't recess 'cause he didn't copy 'Go to the ant +thou sluggard and be wise,' as he'd oughter. Now let's see what 't is. +My grief! it's poetry sure 's you're born. I can tell it in a minute +'cause it don't come out to the aidge o' the book one side or the other. +Read it out loud, Vildy."</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'Oh! the White Farm and the White Farm!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I love it with all my heart;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I'm to live at the White Farm,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till death it do us part.'"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Miss Vilda lifted her head, intoxicated with the melody she had evoked. +"Did you ever hear anything like that," she exclaimed proudly.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'Oh! the White Farm and the White Farm!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I love it with all my heart;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I'm to live at the White Farm,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till death it do us part.'"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Just hear the sent'ment of it, and the way it sings along like a tune. +I'm goin' to show that to the minister this very night, and that boy's +got to have the best educa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>tion there is to be had if we have to +mortgage the farm."</p> + +<p>Samantha Ann was right. The old homestead wore a new aspect these days, +and a love of all things seemed to have crept into the hearts of its +inmates, as if some beneficent fairy of a spider were spinning a web of +tenderness all about the house, or as if a soft light had dawned in the +midst of great darkness and was gradually brightening into the perfect +day.</p> + +<p>In the midst of this new-found gladness and the sweet cares that grew +and multiplied as the busy days went on, Samantha's appetite for +happiness grew by what it fed upon, so that before long she was a little +unhappy that other people (some more than others) were not as happy as +she; and Aunt Hitty was heard to say at the sewing-circle (which had +facilities for gathering and disseminating news infinitely superior to +those of the Associated Press), that Samantha Ann Ripley looked so peart +and young this summer, Dave Milliken had better spunk up and try again.</p> + +<p>But, alas! the younger and fresher and happier Samantha looked, the +older and sadder and meeker David appeared, till all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> hopes of his +"spunking up" died out of the village heart; and, it might as well be +stated, out of Samantha's also. She always thought about it at sun-down, +for it was at sun-down that all their quarrels and reconciliations had +taken place, inasmuch as it was the only leisure time for week-day +courting at Pleasant River.</p> + +<p>It was sun-down now; Miss Vilda and Jabez Slocum had gone to Wednesday +evening prayer-meeting, and Samantha was looking for Timothy to go to +the store with her on some household errands. She had seen the children +go into the garden a half hour before, Timothy walking gravely, with his +book before him, Gay blowing over the grass like a feather, and so she +walked towards the summer-house.</p> + +<p>Timothy was not there, but little Lady Gay was having a party all to +herself, and the scene was such a pretty one that Samantha stooped +behind the lattice and listened.</p> + +<p>There was a table spread for four, with bits of broken china and shells +for dishes, and pieces of apple and gingerbread for the feast. There +were several dolls present (notably one without any head, who was not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +likely to shine at a dinner party), but Gay's first-born sat in her lap; +and only a mother could have gazed upon such a battered thing and loved +it. For Gay took her pleasures madly, and this faithful creature had +shared them all; but not having inherited her mother's somewhat rare +recuperative powers, she was now fit only for a free bed in a +hospital,—a state of mind and body which she did not in the least +endeavor to conceal. One of her shoe-button eyes dangled by a linen +thread in a blood-curdling sort of way; her nose, which had been a pink +glass bead, was now a mere spot, ambiguously located. Her red worsted +lips were sadly raveled, but that she did not regret, "for it was +kissin' as done it." Her yarn hair was attached to her head with +safety-pins, and her internal organs intruded themselves on the public +through a gaping wound in the side. Never mind! if you have any +curiosity to measure the strength of the ideal, watch a child with her +oldest doll. Rags sat at the head of the dinner-table, and had taken the +precaution to get the headless doll on his right, with a view to eating +her gingerbread as well as his own,—doing no violence to the +proprieties in this way, but rather concealing her defects from a +carping public.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I tell you sompfin' ittle Mit Vildy Tummins," Gay was saying to her +battered offspring. "You 's doin' to have a new ittle sit-ter +to-mowowday, if you 's a dood ittle dirl an does to seep nite an kick, +you <i>ser-weet</i> ittle Vildy Tummins!" (All this punctuated with ardent +squeezes fraught with delicious agony to one who had a wound in her +side!) "Vay fink you 's worn out, 'weety, but we know you isn't, don' +we, 'weety? An I'll tell you nite ittle tory to-night, tause you isn't +seepy. Wunt there was a ittle day hen 'at tole a net an' laid fir-teen +waw edds in it, an bime bye erleven or seventeen ittle chits f'ew out of +'em, an Mit Vildy 'dopted 'em all! In 't that a nite tory, you +<i>ser-weet</i> ittle Mit Vildy Tummins?"</p> + +<p>Samantha hardly knew why the tears should spring to her eyes as she +watched the dinner party,—unless it was because we can scarcely look at +little children in their unconscious play without a sort of sadness, +partly of pity and partly of envy, and of longing too, as for something +lost and gone. And Samantha could look back to the time when she had sat +at little tables set with bits of broken china, yes, in this very +summer-house, and little Martha was always so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> gay, and David used to +laugh so! "But there was no use in tryin' to make folks any dif'rent, +'specially if they was such nat'ral born fools they couldn't see a hole +in a grindstun 'thout hevin' it hung on their noses!" and with these +large and charitable views of human nature, Samantha walked back to the +gate, and met Timothy as he came out of the orchard. She knew then what +he had been doing. The boy had certain quaint thoughts and ways that +were at once a revelation and an inspiration to these two plain women, +and one of them was this. To step softly into the side orchard on +pleasant evenings, and without a word, before or afterwards, to lay a +nosegay on Martha's little white doorplate. And if Miss Vilda chanced to +be at the window he would give her a quiet little smile, as much as to +say, "We have no need of words, we two!" And Vilda, like one of old, hid +all these doings in her heart of hearts, and loved the boy with a love +passing knowledge.</p> + +<p>Samantha and Timothy walked down the hill to the store. Yes, David +Milliken was sitting all alone on the loafer's bench at the door, and +why wasn't he at prayer-meetin' where he ought to be? She was glad she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +chanced to have on her clean purple calico, and that Timothy had +insisted on putting a pink Ma'thy Washington geranium in her collar, for +it was just as well to make folks' mouth water whether they had sense +enough to eat or not.</p> + +<p>"Who is that sorry-looking man that always sits on the bench at the +store, Samanthy?"</p> + +<p>"That's David Milliken."</p> + +<p>"Why does he look so sorry, Samanthy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's all right. He likes it fust-rate, wearin' out that hard bench +settin' on it night in 'n' night out, like a bump on a log! But, there, +Timothy, I've gone 'n' forgot the whole pepper, 'n' we're goin' to +pickle seed cowcumbers to-morrer. You take the lard home 'n' put it in +the cold room, 'n' ondress Gay 'n' git her to bed, for I've got to call +int' Mis' Mayhew's goin' along back."</p> + +<p>It was very vexatious to be obliged to pass David Milliken a second +time; "though there warn't no sign that he cared anything about it one +way or 'nother, bein' blind as a bat, 'n' deef as an adder, 'n' dumb as +a fish, 'n' settin' stockstill there with no coat on, 'n' the wind +blowin' up for rain, 'n' four o'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> the Millikens layin' in the churchyard +with gallopin' consumption." It was in this frame of mind that she +purchased the whole pepper, which she could have eaten at that moment as +calmly as if it had been marrow-fat peas; and in this frame of mind she +might have continued to the end of time had it not been for one of those +unconsidered trifles that move the world when the great forces have +given up trying. As she came out of the store and passed David, her eye +fell on a patch in the flannel shirt that covered his bent shoulders. +The shirt was gray and (oh, the pity of it!) the patch was red; and it +was laid forlornly on outside, and held by straggling stitches of carpet +thread put on by patient, clumsy fingers. That patch had an irresistible +pathos for a woman!</p> + +<p>Samantha Ann Ripley never exactly knew what happened. Even the wisest of +down-East virgins has emotional lapses once in a while, and she +confessed afterwards that her heart riz right up inside of her like a +yeast cake. Mr. Berry, the postmaster, was in the back of the store +reading postal cards. Not a soul was in sight. She managed to get down +over the steps, though something with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> the strength of tarred ship-ropes +was drawing her back; and then, looking over her shoulder with her whole +brave, womanly heart in her swimming eyes, she put out her hand and +said, "Come along, Dave!"</p> + +<p>And David straightway gat him up from the loafer's bench and went unto +Samantha gladly.</p> + +<p>And they remembered not past unhappiness because of present joy; nor +that the chill of coming winter was in the air, because it was summer in +their hearts: and this is the eternal magic of love.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Timothy's Quest, by Kate Douglas Wiggin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TIMOTHY'S QUEST *** + +***** This file should be named 18531-h.htm or 18531-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/5/3/18531/ + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This book was produced from scanned images of public +domain material from the Google Print project) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Timothy's Quest + A Story for Anybody, Young or Old, Who Cares to Read It + +Author: Kate Douglas Wiggin + +Release Date: June 7, 2006 [EBook #18531] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TIMOTHY'S QUEST *** + + + + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This book was produced from scanned images of public +domain material from the Google Print project) + + + + + + + + + + + + By Mrs. Wiggin. + + + THE BIRDS' CHRISTMAS CAROL. Illustrated. Square 12mo, boards, 50 cents. + + THE STORY OF PATSY, Illustrated. Square 12mo, boards, 60 cents. + + A SUMMER IN A CANON. A California Story. Illustrated. New Edition. 16mo, + $1.25. + + TIMOTHY'S QUEST. A Story for Anybody, Young or Old, who cares to read + it. 16mo, $1.00. + + THE STORY HOUR. A Book for the Home and Kindergarten. By Mrs. Wiggin and + Nora A. Smith. Illustrated. 16mo, $1.00. + + CHILDREN'S RIGHTS. A Book of Nursery Logic. 16mo, $1.00. + + A CATHEDRAL COURTSHIP, and PENELOPE'S ENGLISH EXPERIENCES. Illustrated. + 16mo, $1.00. + + POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM. Illustrated, 16mo, $1.00. + + + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. + BOSTON AND NEW YORK. + + + + + TIMOTHY'S QUEST + + _A STORY FOR ANYBODY, YOUNG OR OLD, + WHO CARES TO READ IT_ + + BY + + KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN + + AUTHOR OF "BIRDS' CHRISTMAS CAROL," "THE STORY OF PATSY," + "A SUMMER IN A CANON," ETC. + + [Illustration: The Riverside Press logo.] + + + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY + The Riverside Press, Cambridge + 1894 + + + + + Copyright, 1890, + + BY KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN + + _All rights reserved._ + + + THIRTY-SEVENTH THOUSAND + + + _The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A._ + Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company. + + + + + To + + NORA + + DEAREST SISTER, STERNEST CRITIC, + + BEST FRIEND. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + SCENE I. + PAGE + + FLOSSY MORRISON LEARNS THE SECRET OF DEATH + WITHOUT EVER HAVING LEARNED THE SECRET + OF LIFE 7 + + + SCENE II. + + LITTLE TIMOTHY JESSUP ASSUMES PARENTAL RESPONSIBILITIES 17 + + + SCENE III. + + TIMOTHY PLANS A CAMPAIGN, AND PROVIDENCE + MATERIALLY ASSISTS IN CARRYING IT OUT, OR + VICE VERSA 26 + + + SCENE IV. + + JABE SLOCUM ASSUMES THE ROLE OF GUARDIAN + ANGEL 39 + + + SCENE V. + + TIMOTHY FINDS A HOUSE IN WHICH HE THINKS A + BABY IS NEEDED, BUT THE INMATES DO NOT + ENTIRELY AGREE WITH HIM 51 + + + SCENE VI. + + TIMOTHY, LADY GAY, AND RAGS PROVE FAITHFUL + TO EACH OTHER 63 + + SCENE VII. + + MISTRESS AND MAID FIND TO THEIR AMAZEMENT + THAT A CHILD, MORE THAN ALL OTHER GIFTS, + BRINGS HOPE WITH IT, AND FORWARD LOOKING + THOUGHTS 74 + + + SCENE VIII. + + JABE AND SAMANTHA EXCHANGE HOSTILITIES, AND + THE FORMER SAYS A GOOD WORD FOR THE + LITTLE WANDERERS 87 + + + SCENE IX. + + "NOW THE END OF THE COMMANDMENT IS CHARITY, + OUT OF A PURE HEART" 100 + + + SCENE X. + + AUNT HITTY COMES TO "MAKE OVER," AND SUPPLIES + BACK NUMBERS TO ALL THE VILLAGE + HISTORIES 112 + + + SCENE XI. + + MISS VILDA DECIDES THAT TWO IS ONE TOO MANY, + AND TIMOTHY BREAKS A HUMMING-BIRD'S EGG 126 + + + SCENE XII. + + LYDDY PETTIGROVE'S FUNERAL 143 + + + SCENE XIII. + + PLEASANT RIVER IS BAPTIZED WITH THE SPIRIT OF + ADOPTION 152 + + + SCENE XIV. + + TIMOTHY JESSUP RUNS AWAY A SECOND TIME, + AND, LIKE OTHER BLESSINGS, BRIGHTENS AS + HE TAKES HIS FLIGHT 166 + + SCENE XV. + + LIKE ALL DOGS IN FICTION, THE FAITHFUL RAGS + GUIDES MISS VILDA TO HIS LITTLE MASTER 179 + + + SCENE XVI. + + TIMOTHY'S QUEST IS ENDED, AND SAMANTHA SAYS, + "COME ALONG, DAVE" 189 + + + + +TIMOTHY'S QUEST. + + + + +SCENE I. + +_Number Three, Minerva Court. First floor front._ + +FLOSSY MORRISON LEARNS THE SECRET OF DEATH WITHOUT EVER HAVING LEARNED +THE SECRET OF LIFE. + + +Minerva Court! Veil thy face, O Goddess of Wisdom, for never, surely, +was thy fair name so ill bestowed as when it was applied to this most +dreary place! + +It was a little less than street, a little more than alley, and its only +possible claim to decency came from comparison with the busier +thoroughfare out of which it opened. This was so much fouler, with its +dirt and noise, its stands of refuse fruit and vegetables, its dingy +shops and all the miserable traffic that the place engendered, its +rickety doorways blocked with lounging men, its Blowsabellas leaning on +the window-sills, that the Court seemed by contrast a most desirable and +retired place of residence. + +But it was a dismal spot, nevertheless, with not even an air of faded +gentility to recommend it. It seemed to have no better days behind it, +nor to hold within itself the possibility of any future improvement. It +was narrow, and extended only the length of a city block, yet it was by +no means wanting in many of those luxuries which mark this era of modern +civilization. There were groceries, with commodious sample-rooms +attached, at each corner, and a small saloon, called "The Dearest Spot" +(which it undoubtedly was in more senses than one), in the basement of a +house at the farther end. It was necessary, however, for the bibulous +native who dwelt in the middle of the block to waste some valuable +minutes in dragging himself to one of these fountains of bliss at either +end; but at the time my story opens a wide-awake philanthropist was +fitting up a neat and attractive little bar-room, called "The Oasis," at +a point equally distant between the other two springs of human joy. + +This benefactor of humanity had a vaulting ambition. He desired to slake +the thirst of every man in Christendom; but this being impossible from +the very nature of things, he determined to settle in some arid spot +like Minerva Court, and irrigate it so sweetly and copiously that all +men's noses would blossom as the roses. To supply his brothers' wants, +and create new ones at the same time, was his purpose in establishing +this Oasis in the Desert of Minerva Court; and it might as well be +stated here that he was prospered in his undertaking, as any man is sure +to be who cherishes lofty ideals and attends to his business +industriously. + +The Minerva Courtier thus had good reason to hope that the supply of +liquid refreshment would bear some relation to the demand; and that the +march of modern progress would continue to diminish the distance between +his own mouth and that of the bottle, which, as he took it, was the +be-all and end-all of existence. + +At present, however, as the Oasis was not open to the public, children +carrying pitchers of beer were often to be seen hurrying to and fro on +their miserable errands. But there were very few children in Minerva +Court, thank God!--they were not popular there. There were frowzy, +sleepy-looking women hanging out of their windows, gossiping with their +equally unkempt and haggard neighbors; apathetic men sitting on the +doorsteps, in their shirt-sleeves, smoking; a dull, dirty baby or two +sporting itself in the gutter; while the sound of a melancholy accordion +(the chosen instrument of poverty and misery) floated from an upper +chamber, and added its discordant mite to the general desolation. + +The sidewalks had apparently never known the touch of a broom, and the +middle of the street looked more like an elongated junk-heap than +anything else. Every smell known to the nostrils of man was abroad in +the air, and several were floating about waiting modestly to be +classified, after which they intended to come to the front and outdo the +others if they could. + +That was Minerva Court! A little piece of your world, my world, God's +world (and the Devil's), lying peacefully fallow, awaiting the services +of some inspired Home Missionary Society. + +In a front room of Number Three, a dilapidated house next the corner, +there lay a still, white shape, with two women watching by it. + +A sheet covered it. Candles burned at the head, striving to throw a +gleam of light on a dead face that for many a year had never been +illuminated from within by the brightness of self-forgetting love or +kindly sympathy. If you had raised the sheet, you would have seen no +happy smile as of a half-remembered, innocent childhood; the smile--is +it of peaceful memory or serene anticipation?--that sometimes shines on +the faces of the dead. + +Such life-secrets as were exposed by Death, and written on that still +countenance in characters that all might read, were painful ones. Flossy +Morrison was dead. The name "Flossy" was a relic of what she termed her +better days (Heaven save the mark!), for she had been called Mrs. +Morrison of late years,--"Mrs. F. Morrison," who took "children to +board, and no questions asked"--nor answered. She had lived forty-five +years, as men reckon summers and winters; but she had never learned, in +all that time, to know her Mother, Nature, her Father, God, nor her +brothers and sisters, the children of the world. She had lived +friendless and unfriendly, keeping none of the ten commandments, nor yet +the eleventh, which is the greatest of all; and now there was no human +being to slip a flower into the still hand, to kiss the clay-cold lips +at the remembrance of some sweet word that had fallen from them, or drop +a tear and say, "I loved her!" + +Apparently, the two watchers did not regard Flossy Morrison even in the +light of "the dear remains," as they are sometimes called at country +funerals. They were in the best of spirits (there was an abundance of +beer), and their gruesome task would be over in a few hours; for it was +nearly four o'clock in the morning, and the body was to be taken away at +ten. + +"I tell you one thing, Ettie, Flossy hasn't left any bother for her +friends," remarked Mrs. Nancy Simmons, settling herself back in her +rocking-chair. "As she didn't own anything but the clothes on her back, +there won't be any quarreling over the property!" and she chuckled at +her delicate humor. + +"No," answered her companion, who, whatever her sponsors in baptism had +christened her, called herself Ethel Montmorency. "I s'pose the +furniture, poor as it is, will pay the funeral expenses; and if she's +got any debts, why, folks will have to whistle for their money, that's +all." + +"The only thing that worries me is the children," said Mrs. Simmons. + +"You must be hard up for something to worry about, to take those young +ones on your mind. They ain't yours nor mine, and what's more, nobody +knows who they do belong to, and nobody cares. Soon as breakfast's over +we'll pack 'em off to some institution or other, and that'll be the end +of it. What did Flossy say about 'em, when you spoke to her yesterday?" + +"I asked her what she wanted done with the young ones, and she said, 'Do +what you like with 'em, drat 'em,--it don't make no odds to me!' and +then she turned over and died. Those was the last words she spoke, dear +soul; but, Lor', she wasn't more'n half sober, and hadn't been for a +week." + +"She was sober enough to keep her own counsel, I can tell you that," +said the gentle Ethel. "I don't believe there's a living soul that knows +where those children came from;--not that anybody cares, now that there +ain't any money in 'em." + +"Well, as for that, I only know that when Flossy was seeing better days +and lived in the upper part of the city, she used to have money come +every month for taking care of the boy. Where it come from I don't +know; but I kind of surmise it was a long distance off. Then she took to +drinking, and got lower and lower down until she came here, six months +ago. I don't suppose the boy's folks, or whoever it was sent the money, +knew the way she was living, though they couldn't have cared much, for +they never came to see how things were; and he was in an asylum before +Flossy took him, I found that out; but, anyhow, the money stopped coming +three months ago. Flossy wrote twice to the folks, whoever they were, +but didn't get no answer to her letters; and she told me that she should +turn the boy out in a week or two if some cash didn't turn up in that +time. She wouldn't have kept him so long as this if he hadn't been so +handy taking care of the baby." + +"Well, who does the baby belong to?" + +"You ask me too much," replied Nancy, taking another deep draught from +the pitcher. "Help yourself, Ettie; there's plenty more where that came +from. Flossy never liked the boy, and always wanted to get rid of him, +but couldn't afford to. He's a dreadful queer, old-fashioned little kid, +and so smart that he's gettin' to be a reg'lar nuisance round the +house. But you see he and the baby,--Gabrielle's her name, but they call +her Lady Gay, or some such trash, after that actress that comes here so +much,--well, they are so in love with one another that wild horses +couldn't drag 'em apart; and I think Flossy had a kind of a likin' for +Gay, as much as she ever had for anything. I guess she never abused +either of 'em; she was too careless for that. And so what was I talkin' +about? Oh, yes. Well, I don't know who the baby is, nor who paid for her +keep; but she's goin' to be one o' your high-steppers, and no mistake. +She might be Queen Victory's daughter by the airs she puts on; I'd like +to keep her myself if she was a little older, and I wasn't goin' away +from here." + +"I s'pose they'll make an awful row at being separated, won't they?" +asked the younger woman. + +"Oh, like as not; but they'll have to have their row and get over it," +said Mrs. Simmons easily. "You can take Timothy to the Orphan Asylum +first, and then come back, and I'll carry the baby to the Home of the +Ladies' Relief and Protection Society; and if they yell they can yell, +and take it out in yellin'; they won't get the best of Nancy Simmons." + +"Don't talk so loud, Nancy, for mercy's sake. If the boy hears you, +he'll begin to take on, and we sha'n't get a wink of sleep. Don't let +'em know what you're goin' to do with 'em till the last minute, or +you'll have trouble as sure as we sit here." + +"Oh, they are sound asleep," responded Mrs. Simmons, with an uneasy look +at the half-open door. "I went in and dragged a pillow out from under +Timothy's head, and he never budged. He was sleepin' like a log, and so +was Gay. Now, shut up, Et, and let me get three winks myself. You take +the lounge, and I'll stretch out in two chairs. Wake me up at eight +o'clock, if I don't wake myself; for I'm clean tired out with all this +fussin' and plannin', and I feel stupid enough to sleep till kingdom +come." + + + + +SCENE II. + +_Number Three, Minerva Court, First floor back._ + +LITTLE TIMOTHY JESSUP ASSUMES PARENTAL RESPONSIBILITIES. + + +When the snores of the two watchers fell on the stillness of the +death-chamber, with that cheerful regularity that betokens the sleep of +the truly good, a little figure crept out of the bed in the adjoining +room and closed the door noiselessly, but with trembling fingers; +stealing then to the window to look out at the dirty street and the gray +sky over which the first faint streaks of dawn were beginning to creep. + +It was little Timothy Jessup (God alone knows whether he had any right +to that special patronymic), but not the very same Tim Jessup who had +kissed the baby Gay in her little crib, and gone to sleep on his own +hard bed in that room, a few hours before. As he stood shivering at the +window, one thin hand hard pressed upon his heart to still its beating, +there was a light of sudden resolve in his eyes, a new-born look of +anxiety on his unchildlike face. + +"I will not have Gay protectioned and reliefed, and I will not be taken +away from her and sent to a 'sylum, where I can never find her again!" +and with these defiant words trembling, half spoken, on his lips, he +glanced from the unconscious form in the crib to the terrible door, +which might open at any moment and divide him from his heart's delight, +his darling, his treasure, his only joy, his own, own baby Gay. + +But what should he do? Run away: that was the only solution of the +matter, and no very difficult one either. The cruel women were asleep; +the awful Thing that had been Flossy would never speak again; and no one +else in Minerva Court cared enough for them to pursue them very far or +very long. + +"And so," thought Timothy swiftly, "I will get things ready, take Gay, +and steal softly out of the back door, and run away to the 'truly' +country, where none of these bad people ever can find us, and where I +can get a mother for Gay; somebody to 'dopt her and love her till I +grow up a man and take her to live with me." + +The moment this thought darted into Timothy's mind, it began to shape +itself in definite action. + +Gabrielle, or Lady Gay, as Flossy called her, in honor of her favorite +stage heroine, had been tumbled into her crib half dressed the night +before. The only vehicle kept for her use in the family stables was a +clothes-basket, mounted on four wooden wheels and cushioned with a dingy +shawl. A yard of clothes-line was tied on to one end, and in this humble +conveyance the Princess would have to be transported from the Ogre's +castle; for she was scarcely old enough to accompany the Prince on foot, +even if he had dared to risk detection by waking her: so the +clothes-basket must be her chariot, and Timothy her charioteer, as on +many a less fateful expedition. + +After he had changed his ragged night-gown for a shabby suit of clothes, +he took Gay's one clean apron out of a rickety bureau drawer ("for I can +never find a mother for her if she's too dirty," he thought), her Sunday +hat from the same receptacle, and last of all a comb, and a faded +Japanese parasol that stood in a corner. These he deposited under the +old shawl that decorated the floor of the chariot. He next groped his +way in the dim light toward a mantelshelf, and took down a +savings-bank,--a florid little structure with "Bank of England" stamped +over the miniature door, into which the jovial gentleman who frequented +the house often slipped pieces of silver for the children, and into +which Flossy dipped only when she was in a state of temporary financial +embarrassment. Timothy did not dare to jingle it; he could only hope +that as Flossy had not been in her usual health of late (though in more +than her usual "spirits"), she had not felt obliged to break the bank. + +Now for provisions. There were plenty of "funeral baked meats" in the +kitchen; and he hastily gathered a dozen cookies into a towel, and +stowed them in the coach with the other sinews of war. + +So far, well and good; but the worst was to come. With his heart beating +in his bosom like a trip-hammer, and his eyes dilated with fear, he +stepped to the door between the two rooms, and opened it softly. Two +thundering snores, pitched in such different keys that they must have +proceeded from two separate sets of nasal organs, reassured the boy. He +looked out into the alley. "Not a creature was stirring, not even a +mouse." The Minerva Courtiers couldn't be owls and hawks too, and there +was not even the ghost of a sound to be heard. Satisfied that all was +well, Timothy went back to the bedroom, and lifted the battered +clothes-basket, trucks and all, in his slender arms, carried it up the +alley and down the street a little distance, and deposited it on the +pavement beside a vacant lot. This done, he sped back to the house. "How +beautifully they snore!" he thought, as he stood again on the threshold. +"Shall I leave 'em a letter?... P'raps I better ... and then they won't +follow us and bring us back." So he scribbled a line on a bit of torn +paper bag, and pinned it on the enemies' door. + + "A kind Lady is goin to Adopt us it is + a Grate ways off so do not Hunt good by. TIM." + +Now all was ready. No; one thing more. Timothy had been met in the +street by a pretty young girl a few weeks before. The love of God was +smiling in her heart, the love of children shining in her eyes; and she +led him, a willing captive, into a mission Sunday-school near by. And so +much in earnest was the sweet little teacher, and so hungry for any sort +of good tidings was the starved little pupil, that Timothy "got +religion" then and there, as simply and naturally as a child takes its +mother's milk. He was probably in a state of crass ignorance regarding +the Thirty-nine Articles; but it was the "engrafted word," of which the +Bible speaks, that had blossomed in Timothy's heart; the living seed had +always been there, waiting for some beneficent fostering influence; for +he was what dear Charles Lamb would have called a natural +"kingdom-of-heavenite." Thinking, therefore, of Miss Dora's injunction +to pray over all the extra-ordinary affairs of life and as many of the +ordinary ones as possible, he hung his tattered straw hat on the +bedpost, and knelt beside Gay's crib with this whispered prayer:-- + +"_Our Father who art in heaven, please help me to find a mother for Gay, +one that she can call Mamma, and another one for me, if there's enough, +but not unless. Please excuse me for taking away the clothes-basket, +which does not exactly belong to us; but if I do not take it, dear +heavenly Father, how will I get Gay to the railroad? And if I don't take +the Japanese umbrella she will get freckled, and nobody will adopt her. +No more at present, as I am in a great hurry. Amen._" + +He put on his hat, stooped over the sleeping baby, and took her in his +faithful arms,--arms that had never failed her yet. She half opened her +eyes, and seeing that she was safe on her beloved Timothy's shoulder, +clasped her dimpled arms tight about his neck, and with a long sigh +drifted off again into the land of dreams. Bending beneath her weight, +he stepped for the last time across the threshold, not even daring to +close the door behind him. + +Up the alley and round the corner he sped, as fast as his trembling legs +could carry him. Just as he was within sight of the goal of his +ambition, that is, the chariot aforesaid, he fancied he heard the sound +of hurrying feet behind him. To his fevered imagination the tread was +like that of an avenging army on the track of the foe. He did not dare +to look behind. On! for the clothes-basket and liberty! He would +relinquish the Japanese umbrella, the cookies, the comb, and the +apron,--all the booty, in fact,--as an inducement for the enemy to +retreat, but he would never give up the prisoner. + +On the feet hurried, faster and faster. He stooped to put Gay in the +basket, and turned in despair to meet his pursuers, when a little, +grimy, rough-coated, lop-eared, split-tailed thing, like an animated +rag-bag, leaped upon his knees; whimpering with joy, and imploring, with +every grace that his simple doggish heart could suggest, to be one of +the eloping party. + +Rags had followed them! + +Timothy was so glad to find it no worse that he wasted a moment in +embracing the dog, whose delirious joy at the prospect of this probably +dinnerless and supperless expedition was ludicrously exaggerated. Then +he took up the rope and trundled the chariot gently down a side street +leading to the station. + +Everything worked to a charm. They met only an occasional milk (and +water) man, starting on his matutinal rounds, for it was now after four +o'clock, and one or two cavaliers of uncertain gait, just returning to +their homes, several hours too late for their own good; but these +gentlemen were in no condition of mind to be over-interested, and the +little fugitives were troubled with no questions as to their intentions. + +And so they went out into the world together, these three: Timothy +Jessup (if it was Jessup), brave little knight, nameless nobleman, +tracing his descent back to God, the Father of us all, and bearing +the Divine likeness more than most of us; the little Lady +Gay,--somebody--nobody--anybody,--from nobody knows where,--destination +equally uncertain; and Rags, of pedigree most doubtful, scutcheon quite +obscured by blots, but a perfect gentleman, true-hearted and loyal to +the core,--in fact, an angel in fur. These three, with the +clothes-basket as personal property and the Bank of England as security, +went out to seek their fortune; and, unlike Lot's wife, without daring +to look behind, shook the dust of Minerva Court from off their feet +forever and forever. + + + + +SCENE III. + +_The Railway Station._ + +TIMOTHY PLANS A CAMPAIGN, AND PROVIDENCE ASSISTS MATERIALLY IN CARRYING +IT OUT, OR VICE VERSA. + + +By dint of skillful generalship, Timothy gathered his forces on a green +bank just behind the railway depot, cleared away a sufficient number of +tin cans and oyster-shells to make a flat space for the chariot of war, +which had now become simply a cradle, and sat down, with Rags curled up +at his feet, to plan the campaign. + +He pushed back the ragged hat from his waving hair, and, clasping his +knees with his hands, gazed thoughtfully at the towering chimneys in the +foreground and the white-winged ships in the distant harbor. There was a +glimpse of something like a man's purpose in the sober eyes; and as the +morning sunlight fell upon his earnest face, the angel in him came to +the surface, and crowded the "boy part" quite out of sight, as it has a +way of doing sometimes with children. + +How some father-heart would have throbbed with pride to own him, and how +gladly lifted the too heavy burden from his childish shoulders! + +Timothy Jessup, aged ten or eleven, or thereabouts (the records had not +been kept with absolute exactness)--Timothy Jessup, somewhat ragged, all +forlorn, and none too clean at the present moment, was a poet, +philosopher, and lover of the beautiful. The dwellers in Minerva Court +had never discovered the fact; for, although he had lived in that world, +he had most emphatically never been of it. He was a boy of strange +notions, and the vocabulary in which he expressed them was stranger +still; further-more, he had gentle manners, which must have been +indigenous, as they had certainly never been cultivated; and, although +he had been in the way of handling pitch for many a day, it had been +helpless to defile him, such was the essential purity of his nature. + +To find a home and a mother for Lady Gay had been Timothy's secret +longing ever since he had heard people say that Flossy might die. He +had once enjoyed all the comforts of a Home with a capital H; but it was +the cosy one with the little "h" that he so much desired for her. + +Not that he had any ill treatment to remember in the excellent +institution of which he was for several years an inmate. The matron was +an amiable and hard-working woman, who wished to do her duty to all the +children under her care; but it would be an inspired human being indeed +who could give a hundred and fifty motherless or fatherless children all +the education and care and training they needed, to say nothing of the +love that they missed and craved. What wonder, then, that an occasional +hungry little soul, starved for want of something not provided by the +management; say, a morning cuddle in father's bed or a ride on father's +knee,--in short, the sweet daily jumble of lap-trotting, gentle +caressing, endearing words, twilight stories, motherly tucks-in-bed, +good-night kisses,--all the dear, simple, every-day accompaniments of +the home with the little "h." + +Timothy Jessup, bred in such an atmosphere, would have gladdened every +life that touched his at any point. Plenty of wistful men and women +would have thanked God nightly on their knees for the gift of such a +son; and here he was, sitting on a tin can, bowed down with family +cares, while thousands of graceless little scalawags were slapping the +faces of their French nurse-maids and bullying their parents, in that +very city.--Ah me! + +As for the tiny Lady Gay, she had all the winsome virtues to recommend +her. No one ever feared that she would die young out of sheer goodness. +You would not have loved her so much for what she was as because you +couldn't help yourself. This feat once accomplished, she blossomed into +a thousand graces, each one more bewitching than the last you noted. + +Where, in the name of all the sacred laws of heredity, did the child get +her sunshiny nature? Born in misery, and probably in sin, nurtured in +wretchedness and poverty, she had brought her "radiant morning visions" +with her into the world. Like Wordsworth's immortal babe, "with trailing +clouds of glory" had she come, from God who was her home; and the heaven +that lies about us all in our infancy,--that Garden of Eden into which +we are all born, like the first man and the first woman,--that heaven +lay about her still, stronger than the touch of earth. + +What if the room were desolate and bare? The yellow sunbeams stole +through the narrow window, and in the shaft of light they threw across +the dirty floor Gay played,--oblivious of everything save the flickering +golden rays that surrounded her. + +The raindrops chasing each other down the dingy pane, the snowflakes +melting softly on the casement, the brown leaf that the wind blew into +her lap as she sat on the sidewalk, the chirp of the little +beggar-sparrows over the cobblestones, all these brought as eager a +light into her baby eyes as the costliest toy. With no earthly father or +mother to care for her, she seemed to be God's very own baby, and He +amused her in his own good way; first by locking her happiness within +her own soul (the only place where it is ever safe for a single moment), +and then by putting her under Timothy's paternal ministrations. + +Timothy's mind traveled back over the past, as he sat among the tin cans +and looked at Rags and Gay. It was a very small story, if he ever found +any one who would care to hear it. There was a long journey in a great +ship, a wearisome illness of many weeks,--or was it months?--when his +curls had been cut off, and all his memories with them; then there was +the Home; then there was Flossy, who came to take him away; then--oh, +bright, bright spot! oh, blessed time!--there was baby Gay; then, worse +than all, there was Minerva Court. But he did not give many minutes to +reminiscence. He first broke open the Bank of England, and threw it +away, after finding to his joy that their fortune amounted to one dollar +and eighty-five cents. This was so much in advance of his expectations +that he laughed aloud; and Rags, wagging his tail with such vigor that +he nearly broke it in two, jumped into the cradle and woke the baby. + +Then there was a happy family circle, you may believe me, and with good +reason, too! A trip to the country (meals and lodging uncertain, but +that was a trifle), a sight of green meadows, where Tim would hear real +birds sing in the trees, and Gay would gather wild flowers, and Rags +would chase, and perhaps--who knows?--catch toothsome squirrels and fat +little field-mice, of which the country dogs visiting Minerva Court had +told the most mouth-watering tales. Gay's transport knew no bounds. Her +child-heart felt no regret for the past, no care for the present, no +anxiety for the future. The only world she cared for was in her sight; +and she had never, in her brief experience, gazed upon it with more +radiant anticipation than on this sunny June morning, when she had +opened her bright eyes on a pleasant, odorous bank of oyster-shells, +instead of on the accustomed surroundings of Minerva Court. + +Breakfast was first in order. + +There was a pump conveniently near, and the oyster-shells made capital +cups. Gay had three cookies, Timothy two, and Rags one; but there was no +statute of limitations placed on the water; every one had as much as he +could drink. + +The little matter of toilets came next. Timothy took the dingy rag which +did duty for a handkerchief, and, calling the pump again into +requisition, scrubbed Gay's face and hands tenderly, but firmly. Her +clothes were then all smoothed down tidily, but the clean apron was kept +for the eventful moment when her future mother should first be allowed +to behold the form of her adopted child. + +The comb was then brought out, and her mop of red-gold hair was assisted +to fall in wet spirals all over her lovely head, which always "wiggled" +too much for any more formal style of hair-dressing. Her Sunday hat +being tied on, as the crowning glory, this lucky little princess, this +child of Fortune, so inestimably rich in her own opinion, this daughter +of the gods, I say, was returned to the basket, where she endeavored to +keep quiet until the next piece of delightful unexpectedness should rise +from fairy-land upon her excited gaze. + +Timothy and Rags now went to the pump, and Rags was held under the +spout. This was a new and bitter experience, and he wished for a few +brief moments that he had never joined the noble army of deserters, but +had stayed where dirt was fashionable. Being released, the sense of +abnormal cleanliness mounted to his brain, and he tore breathlessly +round in a circle seventy-seven times without stopping. But this only +dried his hair and amused Gay, who was beginning to find the basket +confining, and who clamored for "Timfy" to take her to "yide." + +Timothy attended to himself last, as usual. He put his own head under +the pump, and scrubbed his face and hands heartily; wiping them on +his--well, he wiped them, and that is the main thing; besides, his +handkerchief had been reduced to a pulp in Gay's service. He combed his +hair, pulled up his stockings and tied his shoes neatly, buttoned his +jacket closely over his shirt, and was just pinning up the rent in his +hat, when Rags considerately brought another suggestion in the shape of +an old chicken-wing, with which he brushed every speck of dust from his +clothes. This done, and being no respecter of persons, he took the +family comb to Rags, who woke the echoes during the operation, and hoped +to the Lord that the squirrels would run slowly and that the field-mice +would be very tender, to pay him for this. + +It was now nearly eight o'clock, and the party descended the hillside +and entered the side door of the station. + +The day's work had long since begun, and there was the usual din and +uproar of railroad traffic. Trucks, laden high with boxes and barrels, +were being driven to the wide doors, and porters were thundering and +thumping and lurching the freight from one set of cars into another; +their primary objects being to make a racket and demolish raw material, +thereby increasing manufacture and export, but incidentally to load or +unload as much freight as possible in a given time. + +Timothy entered, trundling his carriage, where Lady Gay sat enthroned +like a Murray Hill belle on a dog-cart, conscious pride of Sunday hat on +week-day morning exuding from every feature; and Rags followed close +behind, clean, but with a crushed spirit, which he could stimulate only +by the most seductive imaginations. No one molested them, for Timothy +was very careful not to get in any one's way. Finally, he drew up in +front of a high blackboard, on which the names of various way-stations +were printed in gold letters:-- + + CHESTERTOWN. + SANDFORD. + REEDVILLE. + BINGHAM. + SKAGGSTOWN. + ESBURY. + SCRATCH CORNER. + HILLSIDE. + MOUNTAIN VIEW. + EDGEWOOD. + PLEASANT RIVER. + +"The names get nicer and nicer as you read down the line, and the +furtherest one of all is the very prettiest, so I guess we'll go there," +thought Timothy, not realizing that his choice was based on most +insecure foundations; and that, for aught he knew, the milk of human +kindness might have more cream on it at Scratch Corner than at Pleasant +River, though the latter name was certainly more attractive. + +Gay approved of Pleasant River, and so did Rags; and Timothy moved off +down the station to a place on the open platform where a train of cars +stood ready for starting, the engine at the head gasping and puffing and +breathing as hard as if it had an acute attack of asthma. + +"How much does it cost to go to Pleasant River, please?" asked Tim, +bravely, of a kind-looking man in a blue coat and brass buttons, who +stood by the cars. + +"This is a freight train, sonny," replied the man; "takes four hours to +get there. Better wait till 10.45; buy your ticket up in the station." + +"10.45!" Tim saw visions of Mrs. Simmons speeding down upon him in hot +pursuit, kindled by Gay's disappearance into an appreciation of her +charms. + +The tears stood in his eyes as Gay clambered out of the basket, and +danced with impatience, exclaiming, "Gay wants to yide now! yide now! +yide now!" + +"Did you want to go sooner?" asked the man, who seemed to be entirely +too much interested in humanity to succeed in the railroad business. +"Well, as you seem to have consid'rable of a family on your hands, I +guess we'll take you along. Jim, unlock that car and let these children +in, and then lock it up again. It's a car we're taking up to the end of +the road for repairs, bubby, so the comp'ny 'll give you and your folks +a free ride!" + +Timothy thanked the man in his politest manner, and Gay pressed a piece +of moist cooky in his hand, and offered him one of her swan's-down +kisses, a favor of which she was usually as chary as if it had possessed +a market value. + +"Are you going to take the dog?" asked the man, as Rags darted up the +steps with sniffs and barks of ecstatic delight. "He ain't so handsome +but you can get another easy enough!" (Rags held his breath in suspense, +and wondered if he had been put under a roaring cataract, and then +ploughed in deep furrows with a sharp-toothed instrument of torture, +only to be left behind at last!) + +"That's just why I take him," said Timothy; "because he isn't handsome +and has nobody else to love him." + +("Not a very polite reason," thought Rags; "but anything to go!") + +"Well, jump in, dog and all, and they'll give you the best free ride to +the country you ever had in your life! Tell 'em it's all right, Jim;" +and the train steamed out of the depot, while the kind man waved his +bandana handkerchief until the children were out of sight. + + + + +SCENE IV. + +_Pleasant River._ + +JABE SLOCUM ASSUMES THE ROLE OF GUARDIAN ANGEL. + + +Jabe Slocum had been down to Edgewood, and was just returning to the +White Farm, by way of the cross-roads and Hard Scrabble school-house. He +was in no hurry, though he always had more work on hand than he could +leave undone for a month; and Maria also was taking her own time, as +usual, even stopping now and then to crop an unusually sweet tuft of +grass that grew within smelling distance, and which no mare (with a +driver like Jabe) could afford to pass without notice. + +Jabe was ostensibly out on an "errant" for Miss Avilda Cummins; but, as +he had been in her service for six years, she had no expectations of his +accomplishing anything beyond getting to a place and getting back in the +same day, the distance covered being no factor at all in the matter. + +But one needn't go to Miss Avilda Cummins for a description of Jabe +Slocum's peculiarities. They were all so written upon his face and +figure and speech that the wayfaring man, though a fool, could not err +in his judgment. He was a long, loose, knock-kneed, slack-twisted +person, and would have been "longer yit if he hedn't hed so much turned +up for feet,"--so Aunt Hitty Tarbox said. (Aunt Hitty went from house to +house in Edgewood and Pleasant River, making over boys' clothes; and as +her tongue flew as fast as her needle, her sharp speeches were always in +circulation in both villages.) + +Mr. Slocum had sandy hair, high cheekbones, a pair of kindly light blue +eyes, and a most unique nose: I hardly know to what order of +architecture it belonged,--perhaps Old Colonial would describe it as +well as anything else. It was a wide, flat, well-ventilated, hospitable +edifice (so to speak), so peculiarly constructed and applied that +Samantha Ann Ripley (of whom more anon) declared that "the reason Jabe +Slocum ketched cold so easy was that, if he didn't hold his head jess +so, it kep' a-rainin' in!" + +His mouth was simply an enormous slit in his face, and served all the +purposes for which a mouth is presumably intended, save, perhaps, the +trivial one of decoration. In short (a ludicrously inappropriate word +for the subject), it was a capital medium for exits and entrances, but +no ornament to his countenance. When Rhapsena Crabb, now deceased, was +first engaged to Jabez Slocum, Aunt Hitty Tarbox said it beat her "how +Rhapseny ever got over Jabe's mouth; though she could 'a' got intew it +easy 'nough, or raound it, if she took plenty o' time." But perhaps +Rhapsena appreciated a mouth (in a husband) that never was given to +"jawin'," and which uttered only kind words during her brief span of +married life. And there was precious little leisure for kissing at +Pleasant River! + +As Jabe had passed the store, a few minutes before, one of the boys had +called out, facetiously, "Shet yer mouth when ye go by the deepot, +Laigs; the train's comin' in!" But he only smiled placidly, though it +was an ancient joke, the flavor of which had just fully penetrated the +rustic skull; and the villagers could not resist titillating the sense +of humor with it once or twice a month. Neither did Jabez mind being +called "Laigs," the local pronunciation of the word "legs;" in fact, +his good humor was too deep to be ruffled. His "cistern of wrathfulness +was so small, and the supply pipe so unready," that it was next to +impossible to "put him out," so the natives said. + +He was a man of tolerable education; the only son of his parents, who +had endeavored to make great things of him, and might perhaps have +succeeded, if he hadn't always had so little time at his +disposal,--hadn't been "so drove," as he expressed it. He went to the +village school as regularly as he couldn't help, that is, as many days +as he couldn't contrive to stay away, until he was fourteen. From there +he was sent to the Academy, three miles distant; but his mother soon +found that he couldn't make the two trips a day and be "under cover by +candlelight;" so the plan of a classical education was abandoned, and he +was allowed to speed the home plough,--a profession which he pursued +with such moderation that his father, when starting him down a furrow, +used to hang his dinner-pail on his arm and, bidding him good-by, beg +him, with tears in his eyes, to be back before sun-down. + +At the present moment Jabe was enjoying a cud of Old Virginia plug +tobacco, and taking in no more of the landscape than he could avoid, +when Maria, having wound up to the top of Marm Berry's hill, in spite of +herself walked directly out on one side of the road, and stopped short +to make room for the passage of an imposing procession, made up of one +straw phaeton, one baby, one strange boy, and one strange dog. + +Jabe eyed the party with some placid interest, for he loved children, +but with no undue excitement. Shifting his huge quid, he inquired in his +usual leisurely manner, "Which way yer goin', bub,--t' the Swamp or t' +the Falls?" + +Timothy thought neither sounded especially inviting, but, rapidly +choosing the lesser evil, replied, "To the Falls, sir." + +"Thy way happens to be my way, 's Rewth said to Naomi; so 'f gittin' +over the road's your objeck, 'n' y' ain't pertickler 'baout the gait ye +travel, ye can git in 'n' ride a piece. We don't b'lieve in hurryin', +Mariar 'n' me. Slow 'n' easy goes fur in a day, 's our motto. Can ye git +your folks aboard withaout spillin' any of 'em?" + +No wonder he asked, for Gay was in such a wild state of excitement that +she could hardly be held. + +"I can lift Gay up, if you'll please take her, sir," said Timothy; "and +if you're quite sure the horse will stand still." + +"Bless your soul, she'll stan' all right; she likes stan'in' a heap +better 'n she doos goin'; runnin' away ain't no temptation to Maria +Cummins; let well enough alone 's her motto. Jump in, sissy! There ye +be! Now git yer baby-shay in the back of the wagon, bubby, 'n' we'll be +'s snug 's a bug in a rug." + +Timothy, whose creed was simple and whose beliefs were crystal clear, +now felt that his morning prayer had been heard, and that the Lord was +on his side; so he abandoned all idea of commanding the situation, and +gave himself up to the full ecstasy of the ride, as they jogged +peacefully along the river road. + +Gay held a piece of a rein that peeped from Jabe's colossal hand (which +was said by the villagers to cover most as much territory as the hand of +Providence), and was convinced that she was driving Maria, an idea that +made her speechless with joy. + +Rags' wildest dreams of squirrels came true; and, reconciled at length +to cleanliness, he was capering in and out of the woods, thinking what +an Arabian Nights' entertainment he would give the Minerva Court dogs +when he returned, if return he ever must to that miserable, squirrelless +hole. + +The meadows on the other side of the river were gorgeous with yellow +buttercups, and here and there a patch of blue iris or wild sage. The +black cherry trees were masses of snowy bloom; the water at the river's +edge held spikes of blue arrowweed in its crystal shallows; while the +roadside itself was gay with daisies and feathery grasses. + +In the midst of this loveliness flowed Pleasant River, + + "Vexed in all its seaward course by bridges, dams, and mills," + +but finding time, during the busy summer months, to flush its fertile +banks with beauty. + +Suddenly (a word that could seldom be truthfully applied to the +description of Jabe Slocum's movements) the reins were ruthlessly drawn +from Lady Gay's hands and wound about the whipstock. + +"Gorry!" ejaculated Mr. Slocum, "ef I hain't left the widder Foss +settin' on Aunt Hitty's hoss-block, 'n' I promised to pick her up when I +come along back! That all comes o' my drivin' by the store so fast on +account o' the boys hectorin' of me, so 't when I got to the turn I was +so kind of het up I jogged right along the straight road. Haste makes +waste 's an awful good motto. Pile out, young ones! It's only half a +mile from here to the Falls, 'n' you'll have to get there on Shank's +mare!" + +So saying, he dumped the astonished children into the middle of the +road, from whence he had plucked them, turned the docile mare, and with +a "Git, Mariar!" went four miles back to relieve Aunt Hitty's +horse-block from the weight of the widder Foss (which was no joke!). + +This turn of affairs was most unexpected, and Gay seemed on the point of +tears; but Timothy gathered her a handful of wild flowers, wiped the +dust from her face, put on the clean blue gingham apron, and established +her in the basket, where she soon fell asleep, wearied by the +excitements of the day. + +Timothy's heart began to be a little troubled as he walked on and on +through the leafy woods, trundling the basket behind him. Nothing had +gone wrong; indeed, everything had been much easier than he could have +hoped. Perhaps it was the weariness that had crept into his legs, and +the hollowness that began to appear in his stomach; but, somehow, +although in the morning he had expected to find Gay's new mothers +beckoning from every window, so that he could scarcely choose between +them, he now felt as if the whole race of mothers had suddenly become +extinct. + +Soon the village came in sight, nestled in the laps of the green hills +on both sides of the river. Timothy trudged bravely on, scanning all the +dwellings, but finding none of them just the thing. At last he turned +deliberately off the main road, where the houses seemed too near +together and too near the street, for his taste, and trundled his family +down a shady sort of avenue, over which the arching elms met and clasped +hands. + +Rags had by this time lowered his tail to half-mast, and kept strictly +to the beaten path, notwithstanding manifold temptations to forsake it. +He passed two cats without a single insulting remark, and his entire +demeanor was eloquent of nostalgia. + +"Oh, dear!" sighed Timothy disconsolately; "there's something wrong with +all the places. Either there's no pigeon-house, like in all the +pictures, or no flower garden, or no chickens, or no lady at the window, +or else there's lots of baby-clothes hanging on the wash-lines. I don't +believe I shall ever find"-- + +At this moment a large, comfortable white house, that had been +heretofore hidden by great trees, came into view. Timothy drew nearer to +the spotless picket fence, and gazed upon the beauties of the side yard +and the front garden,--gazed and gazed, and fell desperately in love at +first sight. + +The whole thing had been made as if to order; that is all there is to +say about it. There was an orchard, and, oh, ecstasy! what hosts of +green apples! There was an interesting grindstone under one tree, and a +bright blue chair and stool under another; a thicket of currant and +gooseberry bushes; and a flock of young turkeys ambling awkwardly +through the barn. Timothy stepped gently along in the thick grass, past +a pump and a mossy trough, till a side porch came into view, with a +woman sitting there sewing bright-colored rags. A row of shining tin +pans caught the sun's rays, and threw them back in a thousand glittering +prisms of light; the grasshoppers and crickets chirped sleepily in the +warm grass, and a score of tiny yellow butterflies hovered over a group +of odorous hollyhocks. + +Suddenly the person on the porch broke into this cheerful song, which +she pitched in so high a key and gave with such emphasis that the +crickets and grasshoppers retired by mutual consent from any further +competition, and the butterflies suspended operations for several +seconds:-- + + "I'll chase the antelope over the plain, + The tiger's cob I'll bind with a chain, + And the wild gazelle with the silv'ry feet + I'll bring to thee for a playmate sweet." + +Timothy listened intently for some moments, but could not understand the +words, unless the lady happened to be in the menagerie business, which +he thought unlikely, but delightful should it prove true. + +His eye then fell on a little marble slab under a tree in a shady corner +of the orchard. + +"That's a country doorplate," he thought; "yes, it's got the lady's +name, 'Martha Cummins,' printed on it. Now I'll know what to call her." + +He crept softly on to the front side of the house. There were flower +beds, a lovable white cat snoozing on the doorsteps, and--a lady sitting +at the open window knitting! + +At this vision Timothy's heart beat so hard against his little jacket +that he could only stagger back to the basket, where Rags and Lady Gay +were snuggled together, fast asleep. He anxiously scanned Gay's face; +moistened his rag of a handkerchief at the only available source of +supply; scrubbed an atrocious dirt spot from the tip of her spirited +nose; and then, dragging the basket along the path leading to the front +gate, he opened it and went in, mounted the steps, plied the brass +knocker, and waited in childlike faith for a summons to enter and make +himself at home. + + + + +SCENE V. + +_The White Farm. Afternoon._ + +TIMOTHY FINDS A HOUSE IN WHICH HE THINKS A BABY IS NEEDED, BUT THE +INMATES DO NOT ENTIRELY AGREE WITH HIM. + + +Meanwhile, Miss Avilda Cummins had left her window and gone into the +next room for a skein of yarn. She answered the knock, however; and, +opening the door, stood rooted to the threshold in speechless +astonishment, very much as if she had seen the shades of her ancestors +drawn up in line in the dooryard. + +Off went Timothy's hat. He hadn't seen the lady's face very clearly when +she was knitting at the window, or he would never have dared to knock; +but it was too late to retreat. Looking straight into her cold eyes with +his own shining gray ones, he said bravely, but with a trembling voice, +"Do you need any babies here, if you please?" (Need any babies! What an +inappropriate, nonsensical expression, to be sure; as if a baby were +something exquisitely indispensable, like the breath of life, for +instance!) + +No answer. Miss Vilda was trying to assume command of her scattered +faculties and find some clue to the situation. Timothy concluded that +she was not, after all, the lady of the house; and, remembering the +marble doorplate in the orchard, tried again. "Does Miss Martha Cummins +live here, if you please?" (Oh, Timothy! what induced you, in this +crucial moment of your life, to touch upon that sorest spot in Miss +Vilda's memory?) + +"What do you want?" she faltered. + +"I want to get somebody to adopt my baby," he said; "if you haven't got +any of your own, you couldn't find one half as dear and as pretty as she +is; and you needn't have me too, you know, unless you should need me to +help take care of her." + +"You're very kind," Miss Avilda answered sarcastically, preparing to +shut the door upon the strange child; "but I don't think I care to adopt +any babies this afternoon, thank you. You'd better run right back home +to your mother, if you've got one, and know where 't is, anyhow." + +"I--haven't!" cried poor Timothy, with a sudden and unpremeditated burst +of tears at the failure of his hopes; for he was half child as well as +half hero. At this juncture Gay opened her eyes, and burst into a wild +howl at the unwonted sight of Timothy's grief; and Rags, who was full of +exquisite sensibility, and quite ready to weep with those who did weep, +lifted up his woolly head and added his piteous wails to the concert. It +was a _tableau vivant_. + +"Samanthy Ann!" called Miss Vilda excitedly; "Samanthy Ann! Come right +here and tell me what to do!" + +The person thus adjured flew in from the porch, leaving a serpentine +trail of red, yellow, and blue rags in her wake. "Land o' liberty!" she +exclaimed, as she surveyed the group. "Where'd they come from, and what +air they tryin' to act out?" + +"This boy's a baby agent, as near as I can make out; he wants I should +adopt this red-headed baby, but says I ain't obliged to take him too, +and makes out they haven't got any home. I told him I wa'n't adoptin' +any babies just now, and at that he burst out cryin', and the other two +followed suit. Now, have the three of 'em just escaped from some +asylum, or are they too little to be lunatics?" + +Timothy dried his tears, in order that Gay should be comforted and +appear at her best, and said penitently: "I cried before I thought, +because Gay hasn't had anything but cookies since last night, and she'll +have no place to sleep unless you'll let us stay here just till morning. +We went by all the other houses, and chose this one because everything +was so beautiful." + +"Nothin' but cookies sence--Land o' liberty!" ejaculated Samantha Ann, +starting for the kitchen. + +"Come back here, Samanthy! Don't you leave me alone with 'em, and don't +let's have all the neighbors runnin' in; you take 'em into the kitchen +and give 'em somethin' to eat, and we'll see about the rest afterwards." + +Gay kindled at the first casual mention of food; and, trying to clamber +out of the basket, fell over the edge, thumping her head smartly on the +stone steps. Miss Vilda covered her face with her hands, and waited +shudderingly for another yell, as the child's carnation stocking and +terra-cotta head mingled wildly in the air. But Lady Gay disentangled +herself, and laughed the merriest burst of laughter that ever woke the +echoes. That was a joke; her life was full of them, served fresh every +day; for no sort of adversity could long have power over such a nature +as hers. "Come get supper," she cooed, putting her hand in Samantha's; +adding that the "nasty lady needn't come," a remark that happily escaped +detection, as it was rendered in very unintelligible "early English." + +Miss Avilda tottered into the darkened sitting-room and sank on to a +black haircloth sofa, while Samantha ushered the wanderers into the +sunny kitchen, muttering to herself: "Wall, I vow! travelin' over the +country all alone, 'n' not knee-high to a toad! They're send in' out +awful young tramps this season, but they sha'n't go away hungry, if I +know it." + +Accordingly, she set out a plentiful supply of bread and butter, +gingerbread, pie, and milk, put a tin plate of cold hash in the shed for +Rags, and swept him out to it with a corn broom; and, telling the +children comfortably to cram their "everlastin' little bread-baskets +full," returned to the sitting-room. + +"Now, whatever makes you so panicky, Vildy? Didn't you never see a tramp +before, for pity's sake? And if you're scar't for fear I can't handle +'em alone, why, Jabe 'll be comin' along soon. The prospeck of gittin' +to bed's the only thing that'll make him 'n' Maria hurry; 'n' they'll +both be cal'latin' on that by this time!" + +"Samanthy Ann, the first question that that boy asked me was, 'If Miss +Martha Cummins lived here.' Now, what do you make of that?" + +Samantha looked as astonished as anybody could wish. "Asked if Marthy +Cummins lived here? How under the canopy did he ever hear Marthy's name? +Wall, somebody told him to ask, that's all there is about it; and what +harm was there in it, anyhow?" + +"Oh, I don't know, I don't know; but the minute that boy looked up at me +and asked for Martha Cummins, the old trouble, that I thought was dead +and buried years ago, started right up in my heart and begun to ache +just as if it all happened yesterday." + +"Now keep stiddy, Vildy; what could happen?" urged Samantha. + +"Why, it flashed across my mind in a minute," and here Miss Vilda +lowered her voice to a whisper, "that perhaps Martha's baby didn't die, +as they told her." + +"But, land o' liberty, s'posin' it didn't! Poor Marthy died herself more +'n twenty years ago." + +"I know; but supposing her baby didn't die; and supposing it grew up and +died, and left this little girl to roam round the world afoot and +alone?" + +"You're cal'latin' dreadful close, 'pears to me; now, don't go s'posin' +any more things. You're makin' out one of them yellow-covered books, +sech as the summer boarders bring out here to read; always chock full of +doin's that never would come to pass in this or any other Christian +country. You jest lay down and snuff your camphire, an' I'll go out an' +pump that boy drier 'n a sand heap!" + + +Now, Miss Avilda Cummins was unmarried by every implication of her +being, as Henry James would say: but Samantha Ann Ripley was a spinster +purely by accident. She had seldom been exposed to the witcheries of +children, or she would have known long before this that, so far as she +was personally concerned, they would always prove irresistible. She +marched into the kitchen like a general resolved upon the extinction of +the enemy. She walked out again, half an hour later, with the very teeth +of her resolve drawn, but so painlessly that she had not been aware of +the operation! She marched in a woman of a single purpose; she came out +a double-faced diplomatist, with the seeds of sedition and conspiracy +lurking, all unsuspected, in her heart. + +The cause? Nothing more than a dozen trifles as "light as air." Timothy +had sat upon a little wooden stool at her feet; and, resting his arms on +her knees, had looked up into her kind, rosy face with a pair of liquid +eyes like gray-blue lakes, eyes which seemed and were the very windows +of his soul. He had sat there telling his wee bit of a story; just a +vague, shadowy, plaintive, uncomplaining scrap of a story, without +beginning, plot, or ending, but every word in it set Samantha Ann +Ripley's heart throbbing. + +And Gay, who knew a good thing when she saw it, had climbed up into her +capacious lap, and, not being denied, had cuddled her head into that +"gracious hollow" in Samantha's shoulder, that had somehow missed the +pressure of the childish heads that should have lain there. Then +Samantha's arm had finally crept round the wheedlesome bit of soft +humanity, and before she knew it her chair was swaying gently to and +fro, to and fro, to and fro; and the wooden rockers creaked more sweetly +than ever they had creaked before, for they were singing their first +cradle song! + +Then Gay heaved a great sigh of unspeakable satisfaction, and closed her +lovely eyes. She had been born with a desire to be cuddled, and had had +precious little experience of it. At the sound of this happy sigh and +the sight of the child's flower face, with the upward curling lashes on +the pink cheeks and the moist tendrils of hair on the white forehead, +and the helpless, clinging touch of the baby arm about her neck, I +cannot tell you the why or wherefore, but old memories and new desires +began to stir in Samantha Ann Ripley's heart. In short, she had met the +enemy, and she was theirs! + +Presently Gay was laid upon the old-fashioned settle, and Samantha +stationed herself where she could keep the flies off her by waving a +palm-leaf fan. + +"Now, there's one thing more I want you to tell me," said she, after she +had possessed herself of Timothy's unhappy past, uncertain present, and +still more dubious future; "and that is, what made you ask for Miss +Marthy Cummins when you come to the door?" + +"Why, I thought it was the lady-of-the-house's name," said Timothy; "I +saw it on her doorplate." + +"But we ain't got any doorplate, to begin with." + +"Not a silver one on your door, like they have in the city; but isn't +that white marble piece in the yard a doorplate? It's got 'Martha +Cummins, aged 17,' on it. I thought may be in the country they had them +in their gardens; only I thought it was queer they put their ages on +them, because they'd have to be scratched out every little while, +wouldn't they?" + +"My grief!" ejaculated Samantha; "for pity's sake, don't you know a +tombstun when you see it?" + +"No; what is a tombstun?" + +"Land sakes! what do you know, any way? Didn't you never see a graveyard +where folks is buried?" + +"I never went to the graveyard, but I know where it is, and I know +about people's being buried. Flossy is going to be buried. And so the +white stone shows the places where the people are put, and tells their +names, does it? Why, it is a kind of a doorplate, after all, don't you +see? Who is Martha Cummins, aged 17?" + +"She was Miss Vildy's sister, and she went to the city, and then come +home and died here, long years ago. Miss Vildy set great store by her, +and can't bear to have her name spoke; so remember what I say. Now, this +'Flossy' you tell me about (of all the fool names I ever hearn tell of, +that beats all,--sounds like a wax doll, with her clo'se sewed on!), was +she a young woman?" + +"I don't know whether she was young or not," said Tim, in a puzzled +tone. "She had young yellow hair, and very young shiny teeth, white as +china; but her neck was crackled underneath, like Miss Vilda's;--it had +no kissing places in it like Gay's." + +"Well, you stay here in the kitchen a spell now, 'n' don't let in that +rag-dog o' yourn till he stops scratching if he keeps it up till the +crack o' doom;--he's got to be learned better manners. Now, I'll go in +'n' talk to Miss Vildy. She may keep you over night, 'n' she may not; I +ain't noways sure. You started in wrong foot foremost." + + + + +SCENE VI. + +_The White Farm. Evening._ + +TIMOTHY, LADY GAY, AND RAGS PROVE FAITHFUL TO EACH OTHER. + + +Samantha went into the sitting-room and told the whole story to Miss +Avilda; told it simply and plainly, for she was not given to arabesques +in language, and then waited for a response. + +"Well, what do you advise doin'?" asked Miss Cummins nervously. + +"I don't feel comp'tent to advise, Vilda; the house ain't mine, nor yet +the beds that's in it, nor the victuals in the butt'ry; but as a +professin' Christian and member of the Orthodox Church in good and +reg'lar standin' you can't turn 'em ou'doors when it's comin' on dark +and they ain't got no place to sleep." + +"Plenty of good Orthodox folks turned their backs on Martha when she was +in trouble." + +"There may be Orthodox hogs, for all I know," replied the blunt +Samantha, who frequently called spades shovels in her search after +absolute truth of statement, "but that ain't no reason why we should +copy after 'em 's I know of." + +"I don't propose to take in two strange children and saddle myself with +'em for days, or weeks, perhaps," said Miss Cummins coldly, "but I tell +you what I will do. Supposing we send the boy over to Squire Bean's. +It's near hayin' time, and he may take him in to help round and do +chores. Then we'll tell him before he goes that we'll keep the baby as +long as he gets a chance to work anywheres near. That will give us a +chance to look round for some place for 'em and find out whether they've +told us the truth." + +"And if Squire Bean won't take him?" asked Samantha, with as much cold +indifference as she could assume. + +"Well, I suppose there's nothing for it but he must come back here and +sleep. I'll go out and tell him so,--I declare I feel as weak as if I'd +had a spell of sickness!" + +Timothy bore the news better than Samantha had feared. Squire Bean's +farm did not look so very far away; his heart was at rest about Gay and +he felt that he could find a shelter for himself somewhere. + +"Now, how'll the baby act when she wakes up and finds you're gone?" +inquired Miss Vilda anxiously, as Timothy took his hat and bent down to +kiss the sleeping child. + +"Well, I don't know exactly," answered Timothy, "because she's always +had me, you see. But I guess she'll be all right, now that she knows you +a little, and if I can see her every day. She never cries except once in +a long while when she gets mad; and if you're careful how you behave, +she'll hardly ever get mad at you." + +"Well I vow!" exclaimed Miss Vilda with a grim glance at Samantha, "I +guess she'd better do the behavin'." + +So Timothy was shown the way across the fields to Squire Bean's. +Samantha accompanied him to the back gate, where she gave him three +doughnuts and a sneaking kiss, watching him out of sight under the +pretense of taking the towels and napkins off the grass. + + +It was nearly nine o'clock and quite dark when Timothy stole again to +the little gate of the White Farm. The feet that had traveled so +courageously over the mile walk to Squire Bean's had come back again +slowly and wearily; for it is one thing to be shod with the sandals of +hope, and quite another to tread upon the leaden soles of +disappointment. + +He leaned upon the white picket gate listening to the chirp of the frogs +and looking at the fireflies as they hung their gleaming lamps here and +there in the tall grass. Then he crept round to the side door, to +implore the kind offices of the mediator before he entered the presence +of the judge whom he assumed to be sitting in awful state somewhere in +the front part of the house. He lifted the latch noiselessly and +entered. Oh horror! Miss Avilda herself was sprinkling clothes at the +great table on one side of the room. There was a moment of silence. + +"He wouldn't have me," said Timothy simply, "he said I wasn't big enough +yet. I offered him Gay, too, but he didn't want her either, and if you +please, I would rather sleep on the sofa so as not to be any more +trouble." + +"You won't do any such thing," responded Miss Vilda briskly. "You've +got a royal welcome this time sure, and I guess you can earn your +lodging fast enough. You hear that?" and she opened the door that led +into the upper part of the house. + +A piercing shriek floated down into the kitchen, and another on the +heels of that, and then another. Every drop of blood in Timothy's spare +body rushed to his pale grave face. "Is she being whipped?" he +whispered, with set lips. + +"No; she needs it bad enough, but we ain't savages. She's only got the +pretty temper that matches her hair, just as you said. I guess we +haven't been behavin' to suit her." + +"Can I go up? She'll stop in a minute when she sees me. She never went +to bed without me before, and truly, truly, she's not a cross baby!" + +"Come right along and welcome; just so long as she has to stay you're +invited to visit with her. Land sakes! the neighbors will think we're +killin' pigs!" and Miss Vilda started upstairs to show Timothy the way. + +Gay was sitting up in bed and the faithful Samantha Ann was seated +beside her with a lapful of useless bribes,--apples, seed-cakes, an +illustrated Bible, a thermometer, an ear of red corn, and a large +stuffed green bird, the glory of the "keeping room" mantelpiece. + +But a whole aviary of highly colored songsters would not have assuaged +Gay's woe at that moment. Every effort at conciliation was met with the +one plaint: "I want my Timfy! I want my Timfy!" + +At the first sight of the beloved form, Gay flung the sacred bird into +the furthest corner of the room and burst into a wild sob of delight, as +she threw herself into Timothy's loving arms. + +Fifteen minutes later peace had descended on the troubled homestead, and +Samantha went into the sitting-room and threw herself into the depths of +the high-backed rocker. "Land o' liberty! perhaps I ain't het-up!" she +ejaculated, as she wiped the sweat of honest toil from her brow and +fanned herself vigorously with her apron. "I tell you what, at five +o'clock I was dreadful sorry I hadn't took Dave Milliken, but now I'm +plaguey glad I didn't! Still" (and here she tried to smooth the green +bird's ruffled plumage and restore him to his perch under the revered +glass case), "still, children will be children." + +"Some of 'em's considerable more like wild cats," said Miss Avilda +briefly. + +"You just go upstairs now, and see if you find anything that looks like +wild cats; but 't any rate, wild cats or tame cats, we would n't dass +turn 'em ou'doors this time o' night for fear of flyin' in the face of +Providence. If it's a stint He's set us, I don't see but we've got to +work it out somehow." + +"I'd rather have some other stint." + +"To be sure!" retorted Samantha vigorously. "I never see anybody yet +that didn't want to pick out her own stint; but mebbe if we got just the +one we wanted it wouldn't be no stint! Land o' liberty, what's that!" + +There was a crash of falling tin pans, and Samantha flew to investigate +the cause. About ten minutes later she returned, more heated than ever, +and threw herself for the second time into the high-backed rocker. + +"That dog's been givin' me a chase, I can tell you! He clawed and +scratched so in the shed that I put him in the wood-house; and he went +and clim' up on that carpenter's bench, and pitched out that little +winder at the top, and fell on to the milk-pan shelf and scattered every +last one of 'em, and then upsot all my cans of termatter plants. But I +couldn't find him, high nor low. All to once I see by the dirt on the +floor that he'd squirmed himself through the skeeter-nettin' door int' +the house, and then I surmised where he was. Sure enough, I crep' +upstairs and there he was, layin' between the two children as snug as +you please. He was snorin' like a pirate when I found him, but when I +stood over the bed with a candle I could see 't his wicked little eyes +was wide open, and he was jest makin' b'lieve sleep in hopes I'd leave +him where he was. Well, I yanked him out quicker 'n scat, 'n' locked him +in the old chicken house, so I guess he'll stay out, now. For folks that +claim to be no blood relation, I declare him 'n' the boy 'n' the baby +beats anything I ever come across for bein' fond of one 'nother!" + +There were dreams at the White Farm that night. Timothy went to sleep +with a prayer on his lips; a prayer that God would excuse him for +speaking of Martha's doorplate, and a most imploring postscript to the +effect that God would please make Miss Vilda into a mother for Gay; +thinking as he floated off into the land of Nod, "It'll be awful hard +work, but I don't suppose He cares how hard 't is!" + +Lady Gay dreamed of driving beautiful white horses beside sparkling +waters ... and through flowery meadows ... And great green birds perched +on all the trees and flew towards her as if to peck the cherries of her +lips ... but when she tried to beat them off they all turned into +Timothys and she hugged them close to her heart ... + +Rags' visions were gloomy, for he knew not whether the Lady with the +Firm Hand would free him from his prison in the morning, or whether he +was there for all time ... But there were intervals of bliss when his +fancies took a brighter turn ... when Hope smiled ... and he bit the +white cat's tail ... and chased the infant turkeys ... and found sweet, +juicy, delicious bones in unexpected places ... and even inhaled, in +exquisite anticipation, the fragrance of one particularly succulent bone +that he had hidden under Miss Vilda's bed. + +Sleep carried Samantha so many years back into the past that she heard +the blithe din of carpenters hammering and sawing on a little house +that was to be hers, his, _theirs_. ... And as she watched them, with +all sorts of maidenly hopes about the home that was to be ... some one +stole up behind and caught her at it, and she ran away blushing ... and +some one followed her ... and they watched the carpenters together. ... +Somebody else lived in the little house now, and Samantha never blushed +any more, but that part was mercifully hidden in the dream. + +Miss Vilda's slumber was troubled. She seemed to be walking through +peaceful meadows, brown with autumn, when all at once there rose in the +path steep hills and rocky mountains ... She felt too tired and too old +to climb, but there was nothing else to be done ... And just as she +began the toilsome ascent, a little child appeared, and catching her +helplessly by the skirts implored to be taken with her ... And she +refused and went on alone ... but, miracle of miracles, when she reached +the crest of the first hill the child was there before her, still +beseeching to be carried ... And again she refused, and again she +wearily climbed the heights alone, always meeting the child when she +reached their summits, and always enacting the same scene.... At last +she cried in despair, "Ask me no more, for I have not even strength +enough for my own needs!" ... And the child said, "I will help you;" and +straightway crept into her arms and nestled there as one who would not +be denied ... and she took up her burden and walked.... And as she +climbed the weight grew lighter and lighter, till at length the clinging +arms seemed to give her peace and strength ... and when she neared the +crest of the highest mountain she felt new life throbbing in her veins +and new hopes stirring in her heart, and she remembered no more the pain +and weariness of her journey.... And all at once a bright angel appeared +to her and traced the letters of a word upon her forehead and took the +child from her arms and disappeared.... And the angel had the lovely +smile and sad eyes of Martha ... and the word she traced on Miss Vilda's +forehead was "Inasmuch"! + + + + +SCENE VII. + +_The Old Homestead._ + +MISTRESS AND MAID FIND TO THEIR AMAZEMENT THAT A CHILD, MORE THAN ALL +OTHER GIFTS, BRINGS HOPE WITH IT AND FORWARD LOOKING THOUGHTS. + + +It was called the White Farm, not because that was an unusual color in +Pleasant River. Nineteen out of every twenty houses in the village were +painted white, for it had not then entered the casual mind that any +other course was desirable or possible. Occasionally, a man of riotous +imagination would substitute two shades of buff, or make the back of his +barn red, but the spirit of invention stopped there, and the majority of +sane people went on painting white. But Miss Avilda Cummins was blessed +with a larger income than most of the inhabitants of Pleasant River, and +all her buildings, the great house, the sheds, the carriage and dairy +houses, the fences and the barn, were always kept in a state of dazzling +purity; "as if," the neighbors declared, "S'manthy Ann Ripley went over +'em every morning with a dust-cloth." + +It was merely an accident that the carriage and work horses chanced to +be white, and that the original white cats of the family kept on having +white kittens to decorate the front doorsteps. It was not accident, +however, but design, that caused Jabe Slocum to scour the country for a +good white cow and persuade Miss Cummins to swap off the old red one, so +that the "critters" in the barn should match. + +Miss Avilda had been born at the White Farm; father and mother had been +taken from there to the old country churchyard, and "Martha, aged 17," +poor, pretty, willful Martha, the greatest pride and greatest sorrow of +the family, was lying under the apple trees in the garden. + +Here also the little Samantha Ann Ripley had come as a child years ago, +to be playmate, nurse, and companion to Martha, and here she had stayed +ever since, as friend, adviser, and "company-keeper" to the lonely Miss +Cummins. Nobody in Pleasant River would have dared to think of her as +anybody's "hired help," though she did receive bed and board, and a +certain sum yearly for her services; but she lived with Miss Cummins on +equal terms, as was the custom in the good old New England villages, +doing the lion's share of the work, and marking her sense of the +situation by washing the dishes while Miss Avilda wiped them, and by +never suffering her to feed the pig or go down cellar. + +Theirs had been a dull sort of life, in which little had happened to +make them grow into sympathy with the outside world. All the sweetness +of Miss Avilda's nature had turned to bitterness and gall after Martha's +disgrace, sad home-coming, and death. There had been much to forgive, +and she had not had the grace nor the strength to forgive it until it +was too late. The mystery of death had unsealed her eyes, and there had +been a moment when the sad and bitter woman might have been drawn closer +to the great Father-heart, there to feel the throb of a Divine +compassion that would have sweetened the trial and made the burden +lighter. But the minister of the parish proved a sorry comforter and +adviser in these hours of trial. The Reverend Joshua Beckwith, whose +view of God's universe was about as broad as if he had lived on the +inside of his own pork-barrel, had cherished certain strong and +unrelenting opinions concerning Martha's final destination, which were +not shared by Miss Cummins. Martha, therefore, was not laid with the +elect, but was put to rest in the orchard, under the kindly, +untheological shade of the apple trees; and they scattered their tinted +blossoms over her little white headstone, shed their fragrance about her +quiet grave, and dropped their ruddy fruit in the high grass that +covered it, just as tenderly and respectfully as if they had been +regulation willows. The Reverend Joshua thus succeeded in drying up the +springs of human sympathy in Miss Avilda's heart when most she needed +comfort and gentle teaching; and, distrusting God for the moment, as +well as his inexorable priest, she left her place in the old +meeting-house where she had "worshiped" ever since she had acquired +adhesiveness enough to stick to a pew, and was not seen there again for +many years. The Reverend Joshua had died, as all men must and as most +men should; and a mild-voiced successor reigned in his place; so the +Cummins pew was occupied once more. + +Samantha Ann Ripley had had her heart history too,--one of a different +kind. She had "kept company" with David Milliken for a little matter of +twenty years, off and on, and Miss Avilda had expected at various times +to lose her friend and helpmate; but fear of this calamity had at length +been quite put to rest by the fourth and final rupture of the bond, five +years before. + +There had always been a family feud between the Ripleys and the +Millikens; and when the young people took it into their heads to fall in +love with each other in spite of precedent or prejudice, they found that +the course of true love ran in anything but a smooth channel. It was, in +fact, a sort of village Montague and Capulet affair; but David and +Samantha were no Romeo and Juliet. The climate and general conditions of +life at Pleasant River were not favorable to the development of such +exotics. The old people interposed barriers between the young ones as +long as they lived; and when they died, Dave Milliken's spirit was +broken, and he began to annoy the valiant Samantha by what she called +his "meechin'" ways. In one of his moments of weakness he took a widowed +sister to live with him, a certain Mrs. Pettigrove, of Edgewood, who +inherited the Milliken objection to Ripleys, and who widened the breach +and brought Samantha to the point of final and decisive rupture. The +last straw was the statement, sown broadcast by Mrs. Pettigrove, that +"Samanthy Ann Ripley's father never would 'a' died if he'd ever had any +doctorin'; but 't was the gospel truth that they never had nobody to +'tend him but a hom'pathy man from Scratch Corner, who, of course, bein' +a hom'path, didn't know no more about doctorin' 'n Cooper's cow." + +Samantha told David after this that she didn't want to hear him open his +mouth again, nor none of his folks; that she was through with the whole +lot of 'em forever and ever, 'n' she wished to the Lord she'd had sense +enough to put her foot down fifteen years ago, 'n' she hoped he'd enjoy +bein' tread underfoot for the rest of his natural life, 'n' she wouldn't +speak to him again if she met him in her porridge dish. She then +slammed the door and went upstairs to cry as if she were sixteen, as she +watched him out of sight. Poor Dave Milliken! just sweet and earnest and +strong enough to suffer at being worsted by circumstances, but never +quite strong enough to conquer them. + +And it was to this household that Timothy had brought his child for +adoption. + + +When Miss Avilda opened her eyes, the morning after the arrival of the +children, she tried to remember whether anything had happened to give +her such a strange feeling of altered conditions. It was +Saturday,--baking day,--that couldn't be it; and she gazed at the little +dimity-curtained window and at the picture of the Death-bed of Calvin, +and wondered what was the matter. + +Just then a child's laugh, bright, merry, tuneful, infectious, rang out +from some distant room, and it all came back to her as Samantha Ann +opened the door and peered in. + +"I've got breakfast 'bout ready," she said; "but I wish, soon 's you're +dressed, you'd step down 'n' see to it, 'n' let me wash the baby. I +guess water was skerse where she come from!" + +"They're awake, are they?" + +"Awake? Land o' liberty! As soon as 't was light, and before the boy had +opened his eyes, Gay was up 'n' poundin' on all the doors, 'n' +hollorin' 'S'manfy' (beats all how she got holt o' my name so quick!), +so 't I thought sure she'd disturb your sleep. See here, Vildy, we want +those children should look respectable the few days they're here. I +don't see how we can rig out the boy, but there's those old things of +Marthy's in the attic; seems like it might be a blessin' on 'em if we +used 'em this way." + +"I thought of it myself in the night," answered Vilda briefly. "You'll +find the key of the trunk in the light stand drawer. You see to the +children, and I'll get breakfast on the table. Has Jabe come?" + +"No; he sent a boy to milk, 'n' said he'd be right along. You know what +that means!" + +Miss Vilda moved about the immaculate kitchen, frying potatoes and +making tea, setting on extra portions of bread and doughnuts and a huge +pitcher of milk; while various noises, strange enough in that quiet +house, floated down from above. + +"This is dreadful hard on Samanthy," she reflected. "I don't know 's I'd +ought to have put it on her, knowing how she hates confusion and +company, and all that; but she seemed to think we'd got to tough it out +for a spell, any way; though I don't expect her temper 'll stand the +strain very long." + +The fact was, Samantha was banging doors and slatting tin pails about +furiously to keep up an ostentatious show of ill humor. She tried her +best to grunt with displeasure when Gay, seated in a wash-tub, crowed +and beat the water with her dimpled hands, so that it splashed all over +the carpet; but all the time there was such a joy tugging at her +heart-strings as they had not felt for years. + +When the bath was over, clean petticoats and ankle-ties were chosen out +of the old leather trunk, and finally a little blue and white lawn +dress. It was too long in the skirt, and pending the moment when +Samantha should "take a tack in it," it anticipated the present fashion, +and made Lady Gay look more like a disguised princess than ever. The +gown was low-necked and short-sleeved, in the old style; and Samantha +was in despair till she found some little embroidered muslin capes and +full undersleeves, with which she covered Gay's pink neck and arms. +These things of beauty so wrought upon the child's excitable nature that +she could hardly keep still long enough to have her hair curled; and +Samantha, as the shining rings dropped off her horny forefinger, was +wrestling with the Evil One, in the shape of a little box of jewelry +that she had found with the clothing. She knew that the wish was a +vicious one, and that such gewgaws were out of place on a little pauper +just taken in for the night; but her fingers trembled with a desire to +fasten the little gold ears of corn on the shoulders, or tie the strings +of coral beads round the child's pretty throat. + +When the toilet was completed, and Samantha was emptying the tub, Gay +climbed on the bureau and imprinted sloppy kisses of sincere admiration +on the radiant reflection of herself in the little looking-glass; then, +getting down again, she seized her heap of Minerva Court clothes, and, +before the astonished Samantha could interpose, flung them out of the +second-story window, where they fell on the top of the lilac bushes. + +"Me doesn't like nasty old dress," she explained, with a dazzling smile +that was a justification in itself; "me likes pretty new dress!" and +then, with one hand reaching up to the door-knob, and the other +throwing disarming kisses to Samantha,--"By-by! Lady Gay go circus now! +Timfy, come, take Lady Gay to circus!" + +There was no time for discipline then, and she was borne to the +breakfast-table, where Timothy was already making acquaintance with Miss +Vilda. + +Samantha entered, and Vilda, glancing at her nervously, perceived with +relief that she was "taking things easy." Ah! but it was lucky for poor +David Milliken that he couldn't see her at that moment. Her whole face +had relaxed; her mouth was no longer a thin, hard line, but had a +certain curve and fullness, borrowed perhaps from the warmth of innocent +baby-kisses. Embarrassment and stifled joy had brought a rosier color to +her cheek; Gay's vandal hand had ruffled the smoothness of her sandy +locks, so that a few stray hairs were absolutely curling with amazement +that they had escaped from their sleek bondage; in a word, Samantha Ann +Ripley was lovely and lovable! + +Timothy had no eyes for any one save his beloved Gay, at whom he gazed +with unspeakable admiration, thinking it impossible that any human +being, with a single eye in its head, could refuse to take such an angel +when it was in the market. + +Gay, not being used to a regular morning toilet, had fought against it +valiantly at first; but the tonic of the bath itself and the exercise of +war had brought the color to her cheeks and the brightness to her eyes. +She had forgiven Samantha, she was ready to be on good terms with Miss +Vilda, she was at peace with all the world. That she was eating the +bread of dependence did not trouble her in the least! No royal visitor, +conveying honor by her mere presence, could have carried off a delicate +situation with more distinguished grace and ease. She was perched on a +Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, and immediately began blowing bubbles +in her mug of milk in the most reprehensible fashion; and glancing up +after each naughty effort with an irrepressible gurgle of laughter, in +which she looked so bewitching, even with a milky crescent over her red +mouth, that she would have melted the heart of the most predestinate old +misogynist in Christendom. + +Timothy was not so entirely at his ease. His eyes had looked into life +only a few more summers, but their "radiant morning visions" had been +dispelled; experience had tempered joy. Gay, however, had not arrived at +an age where people's motives can be suspected for an instant. If there +had been any possible plummet with which to sound the depths of her +unconscious philosophy, she apparently looked upon herself as a guest +out of heaven, flung down upon this hospitable planet with the single +responsibility of enjoying its treasures. + +O happy heart of childhood! Your simple creed is rich in faith, and +trust, and hope. You have not learned that the children of a common +Father can do aught but love and help each other. + + + + +SCENE VIII. + +_The Old Garden._ + +JABE AND SAMANTHA EXCHANGE HOSTILITIES, AND THE FORMER SAYS A GOOD WORD +FOR THE LITTLE WANDERERS. + + +"God Almighty first planted a garden, and it is indeed the purest of all +human pleasures," said Lord Bacon, and Miss Vilda would have agreed with +him. Her garden was not simply the purest of all her pleasures, it was +her only one; and the love that other people gave to family, friends, or +kindred she lavished on her posies. + +It was a dear, old-fashioned, odorous garden, where Dame Nature had +never been forced but only assisted to do her duty. Miss Vilda sowed her +seeds in the springtime wherever there chanced to be room, and they came +up and flourished and went to seed just as they liked, those being the +only duties required of them. Two splendid groups of fringed "pinies," +the pride of Miss Avilda's heart, grew just inside the gate, and hard +by the handsomest dahlias in the village, quilled beauties like carved +rosettes of gold and coral and ivory. There was plenty of feathery +"sparrowgrass," so handy to fill the black and yawning chasms of summer +fireplaces and furnish green for "boquets." There was a stray peach or +greengage tree here and there, and if a plain, well-meaning carrot +chanced to lift its leaves among the poppies, why, they were all the +children of the same mother, and Miss Vilda was not the woman to root +out the invader and fling it into the ditch. There was a bed of yellow +tomatoes, where, in the season, a hundred tiny golden balls hung among +the green leaves; and just beside them, in friendly equality, a tangle +of pink sweet-williams, fragrant phlox, delicate bride's-tears, +canterbury bells blue as the June sky, none-so-pretties, gay cockscombs, +and flaunting marigolds, which would insist on coming up all together, +summer after summer, regardless of color harmonies. Last, but not least, +there was a patch of sweet peas, + + "on tiptoe for a flight, + With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white." + +These dispensed their sweet odors so generously that it was a favorite +diversion among the village children to stand in rows outside the fence, +and, elevating their bucolic noses, simultaneously "sniff Miss Cummins' +peas." The garden was large enough to have little hills and dales of its +own, and its banks sloped gently down to the river. There was a gnarled +apple tree hidden by a luxuriant wild grapevine, a fit bower for a +"lov'd Celia" or a "fair Rosamond." There was a spring, whose crystal +waters were "cabined, cribbed, confined" within a barrel sunk in the +earth; a brook singing its way among the alder bushes, and dripping here +and there into pools, over which the blue harebells leaned to see +themselves. There was a summer-house, too, on the brink of the hill; a +weather-stained affair, with a hundred names carved on its venerable +lattices,--names of youths and maidens who had stood there in the +moonlight and plighted rustic vows. + +If you care to feel a warm glow in the region of your heart, imagine +little Timothy Jessup sent to play in that garden,--sent to play for +almost the first time in his life! Imagine it, I ask, for there are some +things too sweet to prick with a pen-point. Timothy stayed there +fifteen minutes, and running back to the house in a state of intoxicated +delight went up to Samantha, and laying an insistent hand on hers said +excitedly, "Oh, Samanthy, you didn't tell me--there is shining water +down in the garden; not so big as the ocean, nor so still as the harbor, +but a kind of baby river running along by itself with the sweetest +noise. Please, Miss Vilda, may I take Gay to see it, and will it hurt it +if I wash Rags in it?" + +"Let 'em all go," suggested Samantha; "there's Jabe dawdlin' along the +road, and they might as well be out from under foot." + +"Don't be too hard on Jabe this morning, Samanthy,--he's been to see the +Baptist minister at Edgewood; you know he's going to be baptized some +time next month." + +"Well, he needs it! But land sakes! you couldn't make them Slocums pious +'f you kep' on baptizin' of 'em till the crack o' doom. I never hearn +tell of a Slocum's gittin' baptized in July. They allers take 'em after +the freshets in the spring o' the year, 'n' then they have to be +turrible careful to douse 'em lengthways of the river. Look at him, will +ye? I b'lieve he's grown sence yesterday! If he'd ever stood stiff on +his feet when he was a boy, he needn't 'a' been so everlastin' tall; but +he was forever roostin' on fences' with his laigs danglin', 'n' the heft +of his feet stretched 'em out,--it couldn't do no dif'rent. I ain't got +no patience with him." + +"Jabe has considerable many good points," said Miss Cummins loyally; +"he's faithful,--you always know where to find him." + +"Good reason why," retorted Samantha. "You always know where to find him +'cause he gen'ally hain't moved sence you seen him last. Gittin' +religion ain't goin' to help him much. If he ever hears tell 'bout the +gate of heaven bein' open 't the last day, he won't 'a' begun to begin +thinkin' 'bout gittin' in tell he hears the door shet in his face; 'n' +then he'll set ri' down's comf'table's if he was inside, 'n' say, 'Wall, +better luck next time: slow an' sure 's my motto!' Good-mornin', +Jabe,--had your dinner?" + +"I ain't even hed my breakfast," responded Mr. Slocum easily. + +"Blessed are the lazy folks, for they always git their chores done for +'em," remarked Samantha scathingly, as she went to the buttery for +provisions. + +"Wall," said Laigs, looking at her with his most irritating smile, as he +sat down at the kitchen table, "I don't find I git thru any more work by +tumblin' out o' bed 't sun-up 'n I dew 'f I lay a spell 'n' let the +univarse git het up 'n' runnin' a leetle mite. 'Slow 'n' easy goes fur +in a day' 's my motto. Rhapseny, she used to say she should think I'd be +ashamed to lay abed so late. 'Wall, I be,' s' I, 'but I'd ruther be +ashamed 'n git up!' But you're an awful good cook, Samanthy, if ye air +allers in a hurry, 'n' if yer hev got a sharp tongue!" + +"The less you say 'bout my tongue the better!" snapped Samantha. + +"Right you are," answered Jabe with a good-natured grin, as he went on +with his breakfast. He had a huge appetite, another grievance in +Samantha's eyes. She always said "there was no need of his being so +slab-sided 'n' slack-twisted 'n' knuckle-jointed,--that he eat enough in +all conscience, but he wouldn't take the trouble to find the victuals +that would fat him up 'n' fill out his bag o' bones." + +Just as Samantha's well-cooked viands began to disappear in Jabe's +capacious mouth (he always ate precisely as if he were stoking an +engine) his eye rested upon a strange object by the wood-box, and he put +down his knife and ejaculated, "Well, I swan! Now when 'n' where'd I see +that baby-shay? Why, 't was yesterday. Well, I vow, them young ones was +comin' here, was they?" + +"What young ones?" asked Miss Vilda, exchanging astonished glances with +Samantha. + +"And don't begin at the book o' Genesis 'n' go clean through the Bible, +'s you gen'ally do. Start right in on Revelations, where you belong," +put in Samantha; for to see a man unexpectedly loaded to the muzzle with +news, and too lazy to fire it off, was enough to try the patience of a +saint; and even David Milliken would hardly have applied that term to +Samantha Ann Ripley. + +"Give a feller time to think, will yer?" expostulated Jabe, with his +mouth full of pie. "Everything comes to him as waits 'd be an awful good +motto for you! Where'd I see 'em? Why, I fetched 'em as fur as the +cross-roads myself." + +"Well, I never!" "I want to know!" cried the two women in one breath. + +"I picked 'em up out on the road, a little piece this side o' the +station. 'T was at the top o' Marm Berry's hill, that's jest where 't +was. The boy was trudgin' along draggin' the baby 'n' the basket, 'n' I +thought I'd give him a lift, so s' I, 'Goin' t' the Swamp or t' the +Falls?' s' I. 'To the Falls,' s' 'e. 'Git in,' s' I, ''n' I'll give yer +a ride, 'f y' ain't in no hurry,' s' I. So in he got, 'n' the baby tew. +When I got putty near home, I happened ter think I'd oughter gone roun' +by the tan'ry 'n' picked up the Widder Foss, 'n' so s' I, 'I ain't goin' +no nearer to the Falls; but I guess your laigs is good for the balance +o' the way, ain't they?' s' I. 'I guess they be!' s' 'e. Then he thanked +me 's perlite's Deacon Sawyer's first wife, 'n' I left him 'n' his folks +in the road where I found 'em." + +"Didn't you ask where he belonged nor where he was bound?" + +"'T ain't my way to waste good breath askin' questions 't ain't none o' +my bis'ness," replied Mr. Slocum. + +"You're right, it ain't," responded Samantha, as she slammed the +milk-pans in the sink; "'n' it's my hope that some time when you get +good and ready to ask somebody somethin' they'll be in too much of a +hurry to answer you!" + +"Be they any of your folks, Miss Vildy?" asked Jabe, grinning with +delight at Samantha's ill humor. + +"No," she answered briefly. + +"What yer cal'latin' ter do with 'em?" + +"I haven't decided yet. The boy says they haven't got any folks nor any +home; and I suppose it's our duty to find a place for 'em. I don't see +but we've got to go to the expense of takin' 'em back to the city and +puttin' 'em in some asylum." + +"How'd they happen to come here?" + +"They ran away from the city yesterday, and they liked the looks of this +place; that's all the satisfaction we can get out of 'em, and I dare say +it's a pack of lies." + +"That boy wouldn't tell a lie no more 'n a seraphim!" said Samantha +tersely. + +"You can't judge folks by appearances," answered Vilda. "But anyhow, +don't talk to the neighbors, Jabe; and if you haven't got anything +special on hand to-day, I wish you'd patch the roof of the summer house +and dig us a mess of beet greens. Keep the children with you, and see +what you make of 'em; they're playin' in the garden now." + +"All right. I'll size 'em up the best I ken, tho' mebbe it'll hender me +in my work some; but time was made for slaves, as the molasses said when +they told it to hurry up in winter time." + +Two hours later, Miss Vilda looked from the kitchen window and saw Jabez +Slocum coming across the road from the garden. Timothy trudged beside +him, carrying the basket of greens in one hand, and the other locked in +Jabe's huge paw; his eyes upturned and shining with pleasure, his lips +moving as if he were chattering like a magpie. Lady Gay was just where +you might have expected to find her, mounted on the towering height of +Jabe's shoulder, one tiny hand grasping his weather-beaten straw hat, +while with the other she whisked her willing steed with an alder switch +which had evidently been cut for that purpose by the victim himself. + +"That's the way he's sizin' of 'em up," said Samantha, leaning over +Vilda's shoulder with a smile. "I'll bet they've sized him up enough +sight better 'n he has them!" + +Jabe left the children outside, and came in with the basket. Putting his +hat in the wood-box and hitching up his trousers impressively, he sat +down on the settle. + +"Them ain't no children to be wanderin' about the earth afoot 'n' alone, +'same 's Hitty went to the beach;' nor they ain't any common truck ter +be put inter 'sylums 'n' poor-farms. There's some young ones that's so +everlastin' chuckle-headed 'n' hombly 'n' contrairy that they ain't +hardly wuth savin'; but these ain't that kind. The baby, now you've got +her cleaned up, is han'somer 'n any baby on the river, 'n' a reg'lar +chunk o' sunshine besides. I'd be willin' ter pay her a little suthin' +for livin' alongside. The boy--well, the boy is a extra-ordinary boy. We +got on tergether's slick as if we was twins. That boy's got idees, +that's what he's got; 'n' he's likely to grow up into--well, 'most +anything." + +"If you think so highly of 'em, why don't you adopt 'em?" asked Miss +Vilda curtly. "That's what they seem to think folks ought to do." + +"I ain't sure but I shall," Mr. Slocum responded unexpectedly. "If you +can't find a better home for 'em somewheres, I ain't sure but I'll take +'em myself. Land sakes! if Rhapseny was alive I'd adopt 'em quicker 'n +blazes; but marm won't take to the idee very strong, I don't s'pose, 'n' +she ain't much on bringin' up children, as I ken testify. Still, she's a +heap better 'n a brick asylum with a six-foot stone wall round it, when +yer come to that. But I b'lieve we ken do better for 'em. I can say to +folks, 'See here: here's a couple o' smart, han'some children. You can +have 'em for nothin', 'n' needn't resk the onsartainty o' gittin' +married 'n' raisin' yer own; 'n' when yer come ter that, yer wouldn't +stan' no charnce o' gittin' any as likely as these air, if ye did.'" + +"That's true as the gospel!" said Samantha. It nearly killed her to +agree with him, but the words were fairly wrung from her unwilling lips +by his eloquence and wisdom. + +"Well, we'll see what we can do for 'em," said Vilda in a non-committal +tone; "and here they'll have to stay, for all I see, tell we can get +time to turn round and look 'em up a place." + +"And the way their edjercation has been left be," continued Mr. Slocum, +"is a burnin' shame in a Christian country. I don' b'lieve they ever see +the inside of a school-house! I've learned 'em more this mornin' 'n +they ever hearn tell of before, but they're 's ignorant 's Cooper's cow +yit. They don' know tansy from sorrel, nor slip'ry ellum from +pennyroyal, nor burdock from pigweed; they don' know a dand'lion from a +hole in the ground; they don' know where the birds put up when it comes +on night; they never see a brook afore, nor a bull-frog; they never +hearn tell o' cat-o'-nine-tails, nor jack-lanterns, nor see-saws. Land +sakes! we got ter talkin' 'bout so many things that I clean forgot the +summer-house roof. But there! this won't do for me: I must be goin'; +there ain't no rest for the workin'-man in this country." + +"If there wa'n't no work for him, he'd be wuss off yet," responded +Samantha. + +"Right ye are, Samanthy! Look here, when 'd you want that box you give +me to fix?" + +"I wanted it before hayin', but I s'pose any time before Thanksgivin' +'ll do, seein' it's you." + +"What's wuth doin' 't all 's wuth takin' time over, 's my motto," said +Jabe cheerfully, "but seein' it's you, I'll nail that cover on ter night +or bust!" + + + + +SCENE IX. + +_A Village Sabbath._ + +"NOW THE END OF THE COMMANDMENT IS CHARITY, OUT OF A PURE HEART." + + +It was Sunday morning, and the very peace of God was brooding over +Pleasant River. Timothy, Rags, and Gay were playing decorously in the +orchard. Maria was hitched to an apple-tree in the side yard, and stood +there serenely with her eyes half closed, dreaming of oats past and oats +to come. Miss Vilda and Samantha issued from the mosquito-netting door, +clad in Sunday best; and the children approached nearer, that they might +share in the excitement of the departure for "meeting." Gay clamored to +go, but was pacified by the gift of a rag-doll that Samantha had made +for her the evening before. It was a monstrosity, but Gay dipped it +instantly in the alembic of her imagination, and it became a beautiful, +responsive little daughter, which she clasped close in her arms, and on +which she showered the tenderest tokens of maternal affection. + +Miss Vilda handed Timothy a little green-paper-covered book, before she +climbed into the buggy. "That's a catechism," she said; "and if you'll +be a good boy and learn the first six pages, and say 'em to me this +afternoon, Samantha 'll give you a top that you can spin on week days." + +"What is a catechism?" asked Timothy, as he took the book. + +"It's a Sunday-school lesson." + +"Oh, then I can learn it," said Timothy, brightening; "I learned three +for Miss Dora, in the city." + +"Well, I'm thankful to hear that you've had some spiritual advantages; +now, stay right here in the orchard till Jabe comes; and don't set the +house afire," she added, as Samantha took the reins and raised them for +the mighty slap on Maria's back which was necessary to wake her from her +Sunday slumber. + +"Why would I want to set the house afire?" Timothy asked wonderingly. + +"Well, I don't know 's you would want to, but I thought you might get +to playin' with matches, though I've hid 'em all." + +"Play with matches!" exclaimed Timothy, in wide-eyed astonishment that a +match could appeal to anybody as a desirable plaything. "Oh, no, thank +you; I shouldn't have thought of it." + +"I don't know as we ought to have left 'em alone," said Vilda, looking +back, as Samantha urged the moderate Maria over the road; "though I +don't know exactly what they could do." + +"Except run away," said Samantha reflectively. + +"I wish to the land they would! It would be the easiest way out of a +troublesome matter. Every day that goes by will make it harder for us to +decide what to do with 'em; for you can't do by those you know the same +as if they were strangers." + +There was a long main street running through the village north and +south. Toward the north it led through a sweet-scented wood, where the +grass tufts grew in verdant strips along the little-traveled road. It +had been a damp morning, and, though now the sun was shining +brilliantly, the spiders' webs still covered the fields; gossamer laces +of moist, spun silver, through which shone the pink and lilac of the +meadow grasses. The wood was a quiet place, and more than once Miss +Vilda and Samantha had discussed matters there which they would never +have mentioned at the White Farm. + +Maria went ambling along serenely through the arcade of trees, where the +sun went wandering softly, "as with his hands before his eyes;" +overhead, the vast blue canopy of heaven, and under the trees the soft +brown leaf carpet, "woven by a thousand autumns." + +"I don't know but I could grow to like the baby in time," said Vilda, +"though it's my opinion she's goin' to be dreadful troublesome; but I'm +more 'n half afraid of the boy. Every time he looks at me with those +searchin' eyes of his, I mistrust he's goin' to say something about +Marthy,--all on account of his giving me such a turn when he came to the +door." + +"He'd be awful handy round the house, though, Vildy; that is, if he _is_ +handy,--pickin' up chips, 'n' layin' fires, 'n' what not; but, 's you +say, he ain't so takin' as the baby at first sight. She's got the same +winnin' way with her that Marthy hed!" + +"Yes," said Miss Vilda grimly; "and I guess it's the devil's own way." + +"Well, yes, mebbe; 'n' then again mebbe 't ain't. There ain't no reason +why the devil should own all the han'some faces 'n' tunesome laughs, 't +I know of. It doos seem 's if beauty was turrible misleading', 'n' I've +ben glad sometimes the Lord didn't resk none of it on me; for I was +behind the door when good looks was give out, 'n' I'm willin' t' own up +to it; but, all the same, I like to see putty faces roun' me, 'n' I +guess when the Lord sets his mind on it He can make goodness 'n' beauty +git along comf'tably in the same body. When yer come to that, hombly +folks ain't allers as good 's they might be, 'n' no comfort to anybody's +eyes, nuther." + +"You think the boy's all right in the upper story, do you? He's a +strange kind of a child, to my thinkin'." + +"I ain't so sure but he's smarter 'n we be, but he talks queer, 'n' no +mistake. This mornin' he was pullin' the husks off a baby ear o' corn +that Jabe brought in, 'n' s' 'e, 'S'manthy, I think the corn must be the +happiest of all the veg'tables.' 'How you talk!' s' I; 'what makes you +think that way?'" + +"Why, because,' s' 'e, 'God has hidden it away so safe, with all that +shinin' silk round it first, 'n' then the soft leaves wrapped outside o' +the silk. I guess it's God's fav'rite veg'table; don't you, S'manthy?' +s' 'e. And when I was showin' him pictures last night, 'n' he see the +crosses on top some o' the city meetin'-houses, s' 'e, 'They have two +sticks on 'most all the churches, don't they, S'manthy? I s'pose that's +one stick for God, and the other for the peoples.' Well, now, don't you +remember Seth Pennell, o' Buttertown, how queer he was when he was a +boy? We thought he'd never be wuth his salt. He used to stan' in the +front winder 'n' twirl the curtin tossel for hours to a time. And don't +you know it come out last year that he'd wrote a reg'lar book, with +covers on it 'n' all, 'n' that he got five dollars a colume for writin' +poetry verses for the papers?" + +"Oh, well, if you mean that," said Vilda argumentatively, "I don't call +writin' poetry any great test of smartness. There ain't been a big fool +in this village for years but could do somethin' in the writin' line. I +guess it ain't any great trick, if you have a mind to put yourself down +to it. For my part, I've always despised to see a great, hulkin' man, +that could handle a hoe or a pitchfork, sit down and twirl a pen-stalk." + +"Well, I ain't so sure. I guess the Lord hes his own way o' managin' +things. We ain't all cal'lated to hoe pertaters nor yet to write poetry +verses. There's as much dif'rence in folks 's there is in anybody. Now, +I can take care of a dairy as well as the next one, 'n' nobody was ever +hearn to complain o' my butter; but there was that lady in New York +State that used to make flowers 'n' fruit 'n' graven images out o' her +churnin's. You've hearn tell o' that piece she carried to the +Centennial? Now, no sech doin's 's that ever come into my head. I've +went on makin' round balls for twenty years: 'n', massy on us, don't I +remember when my old butter stamp cracked, 'n' I couldn't get another +with an ear o' corn on it, 'n' hed to take one with a beehive, why, I +was that homesick I couldn't bear to look my butter 'n the eye! But that +woman would have had a new picter on her balls every day, I shouldn't +wonder! (For massy's sake, Maria, don't stan' stock still 'n' let the +flies eat yer right up!) No, I tell yer, it takes all kinds o' folks to +make a world. Now, I couldn't never read poetry. It's so dull, it makes +me feel 's if I'd been trottin' all day in the sun! But there's folks +that can stan' it, or they wouldn't keep on turnin' of it out. The +children are nice children enough, but have they got any folks anywhere, +'n' what kind of folks, 'n' where'd they come from, anyhow: that's what +we've got to find out, 'n' I guess it'll be consid'able of a chore!" + +"I don't know but you're right. I thought some of sendin' Jabe to the +city to-morrow." + +"Jabe? Well, I s'pose he'd be back by 'nother spring; but who'd we get +ter shovel us out this winter, seein' as there ain't more 'n three men +in the whole village? Aunt Hitty says twenty-year engagements 's goin' +out o' fashion in the big cities, 'n' I'm glad if they be. They'd 'a' +never come _in_, I told her, if there'd ever been an extry man in these +parts, but there never was. If you got holt o' one by good luck, you had +ter _keep_ holt, if 't was two years or twenty-two, or go without. I +used ter be too proud ter go without; now I've got more sense, thanks +be! Why don't you go to the city yourself, Vildy? Jabe Slocum ain't got +sprawl enough to find out anythin' wuth knowin'." + +"I suppose I could go, though I don't like the prospect of it very +much. I haven't been there for years, but I'd ought to look after my +property there once in a while. Deary me! it seems as if we weren't ever +going to have any more peace." + +"Mebbe we ain't," said Samantha, as they wound up the meeting-house +hill; "but ain't we hed 'bout enough peace for one spell? If peace was +the best thing we could get in this world, we might as well be them old +cows by the side o' the road there. There ain't nothin' so peaceful as a +cow, when you come to that!" + +The two women went into the church more perplexed in mind than they +would have cared to confess. During the long prayer (the minister could +talk to God at much greater length than he could talk about Him), Miss +Vilda prayed that the Lord would provide the two little wanderers with +some more suitable abiding-place than the White Farm; and that, failing +this, He would inform his servant whether there was anything unchristian +in sending them to a comfortable public asylum. She then reminded Heaven +that she had made the Foreign Missionary Society her residuary legatee +(a deed that established her claim to being a zealous member of the +fold), so that she could scarcely be blamed for not wishing to take two +orphan children into her peaceful home. + +Well, it is no great wonder that so faulty a prayer did not bring the +wished-for light at once; but the ministering angels, who had the +fatherless little ones in their care, did not allow Miss Vilda's mind to +rest quietly. Just as the congregation settled itself after the hymn, +and the palm-leaf fans began to sway in the air, a swallow flew in +through the open window; and, after fluttering to and fro over the +pulpit, hid itself in a dark corner, unnoticed by all save the small +boys of the congregation, to whom it was, of course, a priceless boon. +But Miss Vilda could not keep her wandering thoughts on the sermon any +more than if she had been a small boy. She was anything but +superstitious; but she had seen that swallow, or some of its ancestors, +before.... It had flown into the church on the very Sunday of her +mother's death.... They had left her sitting in the high-backed rocker +by the window, the great family Bible and her spectacles on the little +light-stand beside her.... When they returned from church, they had +found their mother sitting as they left her, with a smile on her face, +but silent and lifeless.... And through the glass of the spectacles, as +they lay on the printed page, Vilda had read the words, "For a bird of +the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the +matter;" had read them wonderingly, and marked the place with reverent +fingers.... The swallow flew in again, years afterward.... She could not +remember the day or the month, but she could never forget the summer, +for it was the last bright one of her life, the last that pretty Martha +ever spent at the White Farm.... And now here was the swallow again.... +"For a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings +shall tell the matter." Miss Vilda looked on the book and tried to +follow the hymn; but passages of Scripture flocked into her head in +place of good Dr. Watts's verses, and when the little melodeon played +the interludes she could only hear:-- + +"Yea, the sparrow hath found her an house and the swallow a nest where +she may lay her young, even Thy altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my +God." + +"As a bird that wandereth from her nest, so is a man that wandereth from +his place." + +"The foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son +of man hath not where to lay his head." + +And then the text fell on her bewildered ears, and roused her from one +reverie to plunge her in another. It was chosen, as it chanced, from the +First Epistle of Timothy, chapter first, verse fifth: "Now the end of +the commandment is charity, out of a pure heart." + +"That means the Missionary Society," said Miss Vilda to her conscience, +doggedly; but she knew better. The parson, the text,--or was it the +bird?--had brought the message; but for the moment she did not lend the +hearing ear or the understanding heart. + + + + +SCENE X. + +_The Supper Table._ + +AUNT HITTY COMES TO "MAKE OVER," AND SUPPLIES BACK NUMBERS TO ALL THE +VILLAGE HISTORIES. + + +Aunt Hitty, otherwise Mrs. Silas Tarbox, was as cheery and loquacious a +person as you could find in a Sabbath day's journey. She was armed with +a substantial amount of knowledge at almost every conceivable point; but +if an unexpected emergency ever did arise, her imagination was equal to +the strain put upon it and rose superior to the occasion. Yet of an +evening, or on Sunday, she was no village gossip; it was only when you +put a needle in her hand or a cutting-board in her lap that her memory +started on its interminable journeyings through the fields of the past. +She knew every biography and every "ought-to-be-ography" in the county, +and could tell you the branches of every genealogical tree in the +village. + +It was dusk at the White Farm, and a late supper was spread upon the +hospitable board. (Aunt Hitty was always sure of a bountiful repast. If +one were going to economize, one would not choose for that purpose the +day when the village seamstress came to sew; especially when the +aforesaid lady served the community in the stead of a local newspaper.) + +The children had eaten their bread and milk, and were out in the barn +with Jabe, watching the milking. Aunt Hitty was in a cheerful mood as +she reflected on her day's achievements. Out of Dr. Jonathan Cummins' +old cape coat she had carved a pair of brief trousers and a vest for +Timothy; out of Mrs. Jonathan Cummins' waterproof a serviceable jacket; +and out of Deacon Abijah Cummins' linen duster an additional coat and +vest for warm days. The owners of these garments had been dead many +years, but nothing was ever thrown away (and, for that matter, very +little given away) at the White Farm, and the ancient habiliments had +finally been diverted to a useful purpose. + +"I hope I shall relish my vittles to-night," said Aunt Hitty, as she +poured her tea into her saucer, and set the cup in her little blue +"cup-plate;" "but I've had the neuralgy so in my face that it's be'n +more 'n ten days sence I've be'n able to carry a knife to my mouth.... +Your meat vittles is always so tasty, Miss Cummins. I was sayin' to Mis' +Sawyer last week I think she lets her beef hang too long. Its dretful +tender, but I don't b'lieve its hullsome. For my part, as I've many a +time said to Si, I like meat with some chaw to it.... Mis' Sawyer don't +put half enough vittles on her table. She thinks it scares folks; it +don't me a mite,--it makes me 's hungry as a wolf. When I set a table +for comp'ny I pile on a hull lot, 'n' I find it kind o' discourages +'em.... Mis' Southwick's hevin' a reg'lar brash o' house-cleanin'. She's +too p'ison neat for any earthly use, that woman is. She's fixed +clam-shell borders roun' all her garding beds, an' got enough left for a +pile in one corner, where she's goin' to set her oleander kag. Then +she's bought a haircloth chair and got a new three-ply carpet in her +parlor, 'n' put the old one in the spare-room 'n' the back-entry. Her +daughter's down here from New Haven. She's married into one of the first +families o' Connecticut, Lobelia has, 'n' she puts on a good many airs. +She's rigged out her mother's parlor with lace curtains 'n' one thing +'n' 'other, 'n' wants it called the drawin'-room. Did ye ever hear tell +such foolishness? 'Drawin'-room!' s' I to Si; 'what's it goin' to draw? +Nothin' but flies, I guess likely!' ... Mis' Pennell's got a new girl to +help round the house,--one o' them pindlin' light-complected Smith +girls, from the Swamp,--look's if they was nussed on bonny-clabber. +She's so hombly I sh'd think 't would make her back ache to carry her +head round. She ain't very smart, neither. Her mother sent word she'd +pick up 'n' do better when she got her growth. That made Mis' Pennell +hoppin' mad. She said she didn't cal'late to pay a girl three shillin's +a week for growin'. Mis' Pennell's be'n feelin' consid'able slim, or she +wouldn't 'a' hired help; it's just like pullin' teeth for Deacon Pennell +to pay out money for anything like that. He watches every mouthful the +girl puts into her mouth, 'n' it's made him 'bout down sick to see her +fleshin' up on his vittles.... They say he has her put the mornin' +coffee-groun's to dry on the winder-sill, 'n' then has 'em scalt over +for dinner; but, there! I don' know 's there's a mite o' truth in it, +so I won't repeat it. They went to him to git a subscription for the new +hearse the other day. Land sakes! we need one bad enough. I thought for +sure, at the last funeral we had, that they'd never git Mis' Strout to +the graveyard safe and sound. I kep' a-thinkin' all the way how she'd +'a' took on, if she'd be'n alive. She was the most timersome woman 't +ever was. She was a Thomson, 'n' all the Thomsons was scairt at their +own shadders. Ivory Strout rid right behind the hearse, 'n' he says his +heart was in his mouth the hull durin' time for fear 't would break +down. He didn't git much comfort out the occasion, I guess! Wa' n't he +mad he hed to ride in the same buggy with his mother-in-law! The +minister planned it all out, 'n' wrote down the order o' the mourners, +'n' passeled him out with old Mis' Thomson. I was stan'in' close by, 'n' +I heard him say he s'posed he could go that way if he must, but 't would +spile the hull blamed thing for him! ... Well, as I was sayin', the +seleckmen went to Deacon Pennell to get a contribution towards buyin' +the new hearse; an' do you know, he wouldn't give 'em a dollar? He told +'em he gave five dollars towards the other one, twenty years ago, 'n' +hadn't never got a cent's worth o' use out of it. That's Deacon Pennell +all over! As Si says, if the grace o' God wa'n't given to all of us +without money 'n' without price, you wouldn't never hev ketched Deacon +Pennell experiencin' religion! It's got to be a free gospel 't would +convict him o' sin, that's certain! ... They say Seth Thatcher's married +out in Iowy. His mother's tickled 'most to death. She heerd he was +settin' up with a girl out there, 'n' she was scairt to death for fear +he'd get served as Lemuel 'n' Cyrus was. The Thatcher boys never hed any +luck gettin' married, 'n' they always took disappointments in love +turrible hard. You know Cyrus set in that front winder o' Mis' +Thatcher's, 'n' rocked back 'n' forth for ten year, till he wore out +five cane-bottomed cheers, 'n' then rocked clean through, down cellar, +all on account o' Crany Ann Sweat. Well, I hope she got her comeuppance +in another world,--she never did in this; she married well 'n' lived in +Boston.... Mis' Thatcher hopes Seth 'll come home to live. She's dretful +lonesome in that big house, all alone. She'd oughter have somebody for a +company-keeper. She can't see nothin' but trees 'n' cows from her +winders.... Beats all, the places they used to put houses.... Either +they'd get 'em right under foot so 't you'd most tread on 'em when you +walked along the road, or else they'd set 'em clean back in a lane, +where the women folks couldn't see face o' clay week in 'n' week out.... + +"Joel Whitten's widder's just drawed his pension along o' his bein' in +the war o' 1812. ... It's took 'em all these years to fix it. ... Massy +sakes! don't some folks have their luck buttered in this world?... She +was his fourth wife, 'n' she never lived with him but thirteen days +'fore he up 'n' died. ... It doos seem's if the guv'ment might look +after things a little mite closer.... Talk about Joel Whitten's bein' in +the war o' 1812! Everybody knows Joel Whitten wouldn't have fit a +skeeter! He never got any further 'n Scratch Corner, any way, 'n' there +he clim a tree or hid behind a hen-coop somewheres till the regiment got +out o' sight.... Yes: one, two, three, four,--Huldy was his fourth wife. +His first was a Hogg, from Hoggses Mills. The second was Dorcas +Doolittle, aunt to Jabe Slocum; she didn't know enough to make soap, +Dorcas didn't.... Then there was Delia Weeks, from the lower corner.... +She didn't live long.... There was some thin' wrong with Delia.... She +was one o' the thin-blooded, white-livered kind.... You couldn't get her +warm, no matter how hard you tried. ... She'd set over a roarin' fire in +the cook-stove even in the prickliest o' the dog-days. ... The +mill-folks used to say the Whittens burnt more cut-roun's 'n' stickens +'n any three fam'lies in the village. ... Well, after Delia died, then +come Huldy's turn, 'n' it's she, after all, that's drawed the +pension.... Huldy took Joel's death consid'able hard, but I guess she'll +perk up, now she's come int' this money. ... She's awful leaky-minded, +Huldy is, but she's got tender feelin's.... One day she happened in at +noon-time, 'n' set down to the table with Si 'n' I.... All of a suddent +she bust right out cryin' when Si was offerin' her a piece o' tripe, 'n' +then it come out that she couldn't never bear the sight o' tripe, it +reminded her so of Joel! It seems tripe was a favorite dish o' Joel's. +All his wives cooked it firstrate.... Jabe Slocum seems to set +consid'able store by them children, don't he?... I guess he'll never +ketch up with his work, now he's got them hangin' to his heels.... He +doos beat all for slowness! Slocum's a good name for him, that's +certain. An' 's if that wa'n't enough, his mother was a Stillwell, 'n' +her mother was a Doolittle!... The Doolittles was the slowest fam'ly in +Lincoln County. (Thank you, I'm well helped, Samanthy.) Old Cyrus +Doolittle was slower 'n a toad funeral. He was a carpenter by trade, 'n' +he was twenty-five years buildin' his house; 'n' it warn't no great, +either.... The stagin' was up ten or fifteen years, 'n' he shingled it +four or five times before he got roun', for one patch o' shingles used +to wear out 'fore he got the next patch on. He 'n' Mis' Doolittle lived +in two rooms in the L. There was elegant banisters, but no stairs to +'em, 'n' no entry floors. There was a tip-top cellar, but there wa'n't +no way o' gittin' down to it, 'n' there wa'n't no conductors to the +cisterns. There was only one door panel painted in the parlor. Land +sakes! the neighbors used to happen in 'bout every week for years 'n' +years, hopin' he'd get another one finished up, but he never did,--not +to my knowledge.... Why, it's the gospel truth that when Mis' Doolittle +died he had to have her embalmed, so 't he could git the front door +hung for the fun'ral! (No more tea, I thank you; my cup ain't out.) ... +Speakin' o' slow folks, Elder Banks tells an awful good story 'bout Jabe +Slocum.... There's another man down to Edgewood, Aaron Peek by name, +that's 'bout as lazy as Jabe. An' one day, when the loafers roun' the +store was talkin' 'bout 'em, all of a suddent they see the two of 'em +startin' to come down Marm Berry's hill, right in plain sight of the +store.... Well, one o' the Edgewood boys bate one o' the Pleasant River +boys that they could tell which one of 'em was the laziest by the way +they come down that hill.... So they all watched, 'n' bime by, when Jabe +was most down to the bottom of the hill, they was struck all of a heap +to see him break into a kind of a jog trot 'n' run down the balance o' +the way. Well, then, they fell to quarrelin'; for o' course the Pleasant +River folks said Aaron Peek was the laziest, 'n' the Edgewood boys +declared he hedn't got no such record for laziness's Jabe Slocum hed; +an' when they was explainin' of it, one way 'n' 'nother, Elder Banks +come along, 'n' they asked him to be the judge. When he heerd tell how +'t was, he said he agreed with the Edgewood folks that Jabe was lazier +'n Aaron. 'Well, I snum, I don't see how you make that out,' says the +Pleasant River boys; 'for Aaron walked down, 'n' Jabe run a piece o' the +way.' 'If Jabe Slocum run,' says the elder, as impressive as if he was +preachin',--'if Jabe Slocum ever run, then 't was because he was _too +doggoned lazy to hold back!_ 'an' that settled it!... (No, I couldn't +eat another mossel, Miss Cummins; I've made out a splendid supper.) ... +You can't git such pie 'n' doughnuts anywhere else in the village, 'n' +what I say I mean.... Do you make your riz doughnuts with emptin's? I +want to know! Si says there's more faculty in cookin' flour food than +there is in meat-victuals, 'n' I guess he's 'bout right." + + * * * * * + +It was bedtime, and Timothy was in his little room carrying on the most +elaborate and complicated plots for reading the future. It must be known +that Jabe Slocum was as full of signs as a Farmer's Almanac, and he had +given Timothy more than one formula for attaining his secret +desires,--old, well-worn recipes for luck, which had been tried for +generations in Pleasant River, and which were absolutely "certain" in +their results. The favorites were:-- + + "Star bright, star light, + First star I've seen to-night, + Wish I may, wish I might, + Get the wish I wish to-night;" + +and one still more impressive:-- + + "Four posts upon my bed, + Four corners overhead; + Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, + Bless the bed I _lay_ upon. + Matthew, John, Luke, and Mark, + Grant my wish and keep it dark." + +These rhymes had been chanted with great solemnity, and Timothy sat by +the open window in the sweet darkness of the summer night, wishing that +he and Gay might stay forever in this sheltered spot. "I'll make a sign +of my very own," he thought. "I'll get Gay's ankle-tie, and put it on +the window-sill, with the toe pointing out. Then I'll wish that if we +are going to stay at the White Farm, the angels will turn it around, +'toe in' to the room, for a sign to me; and if we've got to go, I'll +wish they may leave it the other way; and, oh dear, but I'm glad it's so +little and easy to move; and then I'll say Matthew, Mark, Luke, and +John, four times over, without stopping, as Jabe told me to, and then +see how it turns out in the morning." ... + +But the incantation was more soothing than the breath of Miss Vilda's +scarlet poppies, and before the magical verse had fallen upon the drowsy +air for the third time, Timothy was fast asleep, with a smile of hope on +his parted lips. + +There was a sweet summer shower in the night. The soft breezes, fresh +from shaded dells and nooks of fern, fragrant with the odor of pine and +vine and wet wood-violets, blew over the thirsty meadows and golden +stubble-fields, and brought an hour of gentle rain. + +It sounded a merry tintinnabulation on Samantha's milk-pans, wafted the +scent of dripping honeysuckle into the farmhouse windows, and drenched +the night-caps in which prudent farmers had dressed their haycocks. + +Next morning, the green world stood on tiptoe to welcome the victorious +sun, and every little leaf shone as a child's eyes might shine at the +remembrance of a joy just past. + +A meadow lark perched on a swaying apple-branch above Martha's grave, +and poured out his soul in grateful melody; and Timothy, wakened by +Nature's sweet good-morning, leaped from the too fond embrace of Miss +Vilda's feather-bed.... And lo, a miracle!... The woodbine clung close +to the wall beneath his window. It was tipped with strong young shoots +reaching out their innocent hands to cling to any support that offered; +and one baby tendril that seemed to have grown in a single night, so +delicate it was, had somehow been blown by the sweet night wind from its +drooping place on the parent vine, and, falling on the window-sill, had +curled lovingly round Gay's fairy shoe, and held it fast! + + + + +SCENE XI. + +_The Honeysuckle Porch._ + +MISS VILDA DECIDES THAT TWO IS ONE TOO MANY, AND TIMOTHY BREAKS A +HUMMINGBIRD'S EGG. + + +It was a drowsy afternoon. The grasshoppers chirped lazily in the warm +grasses, and the toads blinked sleepily under the shadows of the steps, +scarcely snapping at the flies as they danced by on silver wings. Down +in the old garden the still pools, in which the laughing brook rested +itself here and there, shone like glass under the strong beams of the +sun, and the baby horned-pouts rustled their whiskers drowsily and +scarcely stirred the water as they glided slowly through its crystal +depths. + +The air was fragrant with the odor of new-mown grass and the breath of +wild strawberries that had fallen under the sickle, to make the sweet +hay sweeter with their crimson juices. The whir of the scythes and the +clatter of the mowing machine came from the distant meadows. Field mice +and ground sparrows were aware that it probably was all up with their +little summer residences, for haying time was at its height, and the +Giant, mounted on the Avenging Chariot, would speedily make his +appearance, and buttercups and daisies, tufted grasses and blossoming +weeds, must all bow their heads before him, and if there was anything +more valuable hidden at their roots, so much the worse! + +And if a bird or a mouse had been especially far-sighted and had located +his family near a stump fence on a particularly uneven bit of ground, +why there was always a walking Giant going about the edges with a +gleaming scythe, so that it was no wonder, when reflecting on these +matters after a day's palpitation, that the little denizens of the +fields thought it very natural that there should be Nihilists and +Socialists in the world, plotting to overturn monopolies and other +gigantic schemes for crushing the people. + +Rags enjoyed the excitement of haying immensely. But then, his life was +one long holiday now anyway, and the close quarters, scanty fare, and +wearisome monotony of Minerva Court only visited his memory dimly when +he was suffering the pangs of indigestion. For in the first few weeks of +his life at the White Farm, before his appetite was satiated, he was +wont to eat all the white cat's food as well as his own; and as this +highway robbery took place in the retirement of the shed, where Samantha +Ann always swept them for their meals, no human being was any the wiser, +and only the angels saw the white cat getting whiter and whiter and +thinner and thinner, while every day Rags grew more corpulent and +aldermanic in his figure. But as his stomach was more favorably located +than an alderman's, he could still see the surrounding country, and he +had the further advantage of possessing four legs (instead of two) to +carry it about. + +Timothy was happy, too, for he was a dreamer, and this quiet life +harmonized well with the airy fabric of his dreams. He loved every stick +and stone about the old homestead already, because the place had brought +him the only glimpse of freedom and joy that he could remember in these +last bare and anxious years; and if there were other and brighter +years, far, far back in the misty gardens of the past, they only yielded +him a secret sense of "having been," a memory that could never be +captured and put into words. + +Each morning he woke fearing to find his present life a vision, and each +morning he gazed with unspeakable gladness at the sweet reality that +stretched itself before his eyes as he stood for a moment at his little +window above the honeysuckle porch. + +There were the cucumber frames (he had helped Jabe to make them); the +old summer house in the garden (he had held the basket of nails and +handed Jabe the tools when he patched the roof); the little workshop +where Samantha potted her tomato plants (and he had been allowed to +water them twice, with fingers trembling at the thought of too little or +too much for the tender things); and the grindstone where Jabe ground +the scythes and told him stories as he sat and turned the wheel, while +Gay sat beside them making dandelion chains. Yes, it was all there, and +he was a part of it. + +Timothy had all the poet's faculty of interpreting the secrets that are +hidden in every-day things, and when he lay prone on the warm earth in +the cornfield, deep among the "varnished crispness of the jointed +stalks," the rustling of the green things growing sent thrills of joy +along the sensitive currents of his being. He was busy in his room this +afternoon putting little partitions in some cigar boxes, where, very +soon, two or three dozen birds' eggs were to repose in fleece-lined +nooks: for Jabe Slocum's collection of three summers (every egg acquired +in the most honorable manner, as he explained), had all passed into +Timothy's hands that very day, in consideration of various services well +and conscientiously performed. What a delight it was to handle the +precious bits of things, like porcelain in their daintiness!--to sort +out the tender blue of the robin, the speckled beauty of the sparrow; to +put the pee-wee's and the thrush's each in its place, with a swift throb +of regret that there would have been another little soft throat bursting +with a song, if some one had not taken this pretty egg. And there was, +over and above all, the never ending marvel of the one humming-bird's +egg that lay like a pearl in Timothy's slender brown hand. Too tiny to +be stroked like the others, only big enough to be stealthily kissed. So +tiny that he must get out of bed two or three times in the night to see +if it is safe. So tiny that he has horrible fears lest it should slip +out or be stolen, and so he must take the box to the window and let the +moonlight shine upon the fleecy cotton, and find that it is still there, +and cover it safely over again and creep back to bed, wishing that he +might see a "thumb's bigness of burnished plumage" sheltering it with +her speck of a breast. Ah! to have a little humming-bird's egg to love, +and to feel that it was his very own, was something to Timothy, as it is +to all starved human hearts full of love that can find no outlet. + +Miss Vilda was knitting, and Samantha was shelling peas, on the +honeysuckle porch. It had been several days since Miss Cummins had gone +to the city, and had come back no wiser than she went, save that she had +made a somewhat exhaustive study of the slums, and had acquired a more +intimate knowledge of the ways of the world than she had ever possessed +before. She had found Minerva Court, and designated it on her return as +a "sink of iniquity," to which Afric's sunny fountains, India's coral +strand, and other tropical localities frequented by missionaries were +virtuous in comparison. + +"For you don't expect anything of black heathens," said she; "but there +ain't any question in my mind about the accountability of folks livin' +in a Christian country, where you can wear clothes and set up to an +air-tight stove and be comfortable, to say nothin' of meetinghouses +every mile or two, and Bible Societies and Young Men's and Young Women's +Christian Associations, and the gospel free to all with the exception of +pew rents and contribution boxes, and those omitted when it's +necessary." + +She affirmed that the ladies and gentlemen whose acquaintance she had +made in Minerva Court were, without exception, a "mess of malefactors," +whose only good point was that, lacking all human qualities, they didn't +care who she was, nor where she came from, nor what she came for; so +that as a matter of fact she had escaped without so much as leaving her +name and place of residence. She learned that Mrs. Nancy Simmons had +sought pastures new in Montana; that Miss Ethel Montmorency still +resided in the metropolis, but did not choose to disclose her modest +dwelling-place to the casual inquiring female from the rural districts; +that a couple of children had disappeared from Minerva Court, if they +remembered rightly, but that there was no disturbance made about the +matter as it saved several people much trouble; that Mrs. Morrison had +had no relations, though she possessed a large circle of admiring +friends; that none of the admiring friends had called since her death or +asked about the children; and finally that Number 3 had been turned into +a saloon, and she was welcome to go in and slake her thirst for +information with something more satisfactory than she could get outside. + +The last straw, and one that would have broken the back of any +self-respecting (unmarried) camel in the universe, was the offensive +belief, on the part of the Minerva Courtiers, that the rigid Puritan +maiden who was conducting the examination was the erring mother of the +children, visiting (in disguise) their former dwelling-place. The +conversation on this point becoming extremely pointed and jocose, Miss +Cummins finally turned and fled, escaping to the railway station as fast +as her trembling legs could carry her. So the trip was a fruitless one, +and the mystery that enshrouded Timothy and Lady Gay was as impenetrable +as ever. + +"I wish I'd 'a' gone to the city with you," remarked Samantha. "Not that +I could 'a' found out anything more 'n you did, for I guess there ain't +anybody thereabouts that knows more 'n we do, and anybody 't wants the +children won't be troubled with the relation. But I'd like to give them +bold-faced jigs 'n' hussies a good piece o' my mind for once! You're too +timersome, Vildy! I b'lieve I'll go some o' these days yet, and carry a +good stout umbrella in my hand too. It says in a book somewhar's that +there's insults that can only be wiped out in blood. Ketch 'em hintin' +that I'm the mother of anybody, that's all! I declare I don' know what +our Home Missionary Societies's doin' not to regenerate them places or +exterminate 'em, one or t' other. Somehow our religion don't take holt +as it ought to. It takes a burnin' zeal to clean out them slum places, +and burnin' zeal ain't the style nowadays. As my father used to say, +'Religion's putty much like fish 'n' pertetters; if it's hot it's good, +'n' if it's cold 'tain't wuth a'--well, a short word come in there, but +I won't say it. Speakin' o' religion, I never had any experience in +teachin', but I didn't s'pose there was any knack 'bout teachin' +religion, same as there is 'bout teachin' readin' 'n' 'rithmetic, but I +hed hard work makin' Timothy understand that catechism you give him to +learn the other Sunday. He was all upsot with doctrine when he come to +say his lesson. Now you can't scare some children with doctrine, no +matter how hot you make it, or mebbe they don't more 'n half believe it; +but Timothy's an awful sensitive creeter, 'n' when he come to that +answer to the question 'What are you then by nature? An enemy to God, a +child of Satan, and an heir of hell,' he hid his head on my shoulder and +bust right out cryin'. 'How many Gods is there?' s' e, after a spell. +'Land!' thinks I, 'I knew he was a heathen, but if he turns out to be an +idolater, whatever shall I do with him!' 'Why, where've you ben fetched +up?' s' I. 'There's only one God, the High and Mighty Ruler of the +Univarse,' s' I. 'Well,' s' e', 'there must be more 'n one, for the God +in this lesson isn't like the one in Miss Dora's book at all!' Land +sakes! I don't want to teach catechism agin in a hurry, not tell I've +hed a little spiritual instruction from the minister. The fact is, +Vildy, that our b'liefs, when they're picked out o' the Bible and set +down square and solid 'thout any softening down 'n' explainin' that they +ain't so bad as they sound, is too strong meat for babes. Now I'm +Orthodox to the core" (here she lowered her voice as if there might be a +stray deacon in the garden), "but 'pears to me if I was makin' out +lessons for young ones I wouldn't fill 'em so plumb full o' brimstun. +Let 'em do a little suthin' to deserve it 'fore you scare 'em to death, +say I." + +"Jabe explained it all out to him after supper. It beats all how he gets +on with children." + +"I'd ruther hear how he explained it," answered Samantha sarcastically. +"He's great on expoundin' the Scripters jest now. Well, I hope it'll +last. Land sakes! you'd think nobody ever experienced religion afore, +he's so set up 'bout it. You'd s'pose he kep' the latch-key o' the +heavenly mansions right in his vest pocket, to hear him go on. He +couldn't be no more stuck up 'bout it if he'd ben one o' the two +brothers that come over in three ships!" + +"There goes Elder Nichols," said Miss Vilda. "Now there's a plan we +hadn't thought of. We might take the children over to Purity Village. I +think likely the Shakers would take 'em. They like to get young folks +and break 'em into their doctrines." + +"Tim 'd make a tiptop Shaker," laughed Samantha. "He'd be an Elder afore +he was twenty-one. I can seem to see him now, with his hair danglin' +long in his neck, a blue coat buttoned up to his chin, and his hands +see-sawin' up 'n' down, prancin' round in them solemn dances." + +"Tim would do well enough, but I ain't so sure of Gay. They'd have their +hands full, I guess!" + +"I guess they would. Anybody that wanted to make a Shaker out o' her +would 'a' had to begin with her grandmother; and that wouldn't 'a' done +nuther, for they don't b'lieve in marryin', and the thing would 'a' +stopped right there, and Gray wouldn't never 'a' been born int' the +world." + +"And been a great sight better off," interpolated Miss Vilda. + +"Now don't talk that way, Vildy. Who knows what lays ahead o' that +child? The Lord may be savin' her up to do some great work for Him," she +added, with a wild flight of the imagination. + +"She looks like it, don't she?" asked Vilda with a grim intonation; but +her face softened a little as she glanced at Gay asleep on the rustic +bench under the window. + +The picture would have struck terror to the sad-eyed aesthete, but an +artist who liked to see colors burn and glow on the canvas would have +been glad to paint her: a little frock of buttercup yellow calico, bare +neck and arms, full of dimples, hair that put the yellow calico to shame +by reason of its tinge of copper, skin of roses and milk that dared the +microscope, red smiling lips, one stocking and ankle-tie kicked off and +five pink toes calling for some silly woman to say "This little pig went +to market" on them, a great bunch of nasturtiums in one warm hand and +the other buried in Rags, who was bursting with the white cat's dinner, +and in such a state of snoring bliss that his tail wagged occasionally, +even in his dreams. + +"She don't look like a missionary, if that's what you mean," said +Samantha hotly. "She may not be called 'n' elected to traipse over to +Africy with a Test'ment in one hand 'n' a sun umbreller in the other, +savin' souls by the wholesale; but 't ain't no mean service to go +through the world stealin' into folks' hearts like a ray o' sunshine, +'n' lightin' up every place you step foot in!" + +"I ain't sayin' anything against the child, Samanthy Ann; you said +yourself she wa'n't cut out for a Shaker!" + +"No more she is," laughed Samantha, when her good humor was restored. +"She'd like the singin' 'n' dancin' well enough, but 't would be hard +work smoothin' the kink out of her hair 'n' fixin' it under one o' their +white Sunday bunnets. She wouldn't like livin' altogether with the +women-folks, nuther. The only way for Gay 'll be to fetch her right up +with the men-folks, 'n' hev her see they ain't no great things, anyway. +Land sakes! If 't warn't for dogs 'n' dark nights, I shouldn't care if I +never see a man; but Gay has 'em all on her string a'ready, from the boy +that brings the cows home for Jabe to the man that takes the butter to +the city. The tin peddler give her a dipper this mornin', and the +fish-man brought her a live fish in a tin-pail. Well, she makes the +house a great sight brighter to live in, you can't deny that, Vildy." + +"I ain't denyin' anything in partic'ler. She makes a good deal of work, +I know that much. And I don't want you to get your heart set on one or +both of 'em, for 't won't be no use. We could make out with one of 'em, +I suppose, if we had to, but two is one too many. They seem to set such +store by one another that 't would be like partin' the Siamese twins; +but there, they'd pine awhile, and then they 'd get over it. Anyhow, +they'll have to try." + +"Oh yes; you can git over the small-pox, but you'll carry the scars to +your grave most likely. I think 't would be a sin to part them children. +I wouldn't do it no more 'n I'd tear away that scarlit bean that's +twisted itself round 'n' round that pink hollyhock there. I stuck a +stick in the ground, and carried a string to the winder; but I didn't +git at it soon enough, the bean vine kep' on growin' the other way, +towards the hollyhock. Then the other night I got my mad up, 'n' I jest +oncurled it by main force 'n' wropped it round the string, 'n,' if +you'll believe me, I happened to look at it this mornin,' 'n' there it +'t was, as nippant as you please, coiled round the hollyhock agin! Then +says I to myself, 'Samantha Ann Ripley, you've known what 't was to be +everlastin'ly hectored 'n' intefered with all your life, now s'posin' +you let that bean have its hollyhock, if it wants it!'" + +Miss Vilda looked at her sharply as she said, "Samantha Ann Ripley, I +believe to my soul you're fussin' 'bout Dave Milliken again! + +"Well, I ain't! Every time I talk 'bout hollyhocks and scarlit beans I +ain't meanin' Dave Milliken 'n' me,--not by a long chalk! I was only +givin' you my views 'bout partin' them children, that's all!" + +"Well, all I can say is," remarked Miss Vilda obstinately, "that those +that's desirous of takin' in two strange children, and boardin' and +lodgin' 'em till they get able to do it for themselves, and runnin' the +resk of their turnin' out heathens and malefactors like the folks they +came from,--can do it if they want to. If I come to see that the baby is +too young to send away anywheres I may keep her a spell, but the boy has +got to go, and that's the end of it. You've been crowdin' me into a +corner about him for a week, and now I've said my say!" + +Alas! that tiny humming-bird's egg was crushed to atoms,--crushed by a +boy's slender hand that had held it so gently for very fear of breaking +it. For poor little Timothy Jessup had heard his fate for the second +time, and knew that he must "move on" again, for there was no room for +him at the White Farm. + + + + +SCENE XII. + +_The Village._ + +LYDDY PETTIGROVE'S FUNERAL. + + +Lyddy Pettigrove was dead. Not one person, but a dozen, had called in at +the White Farm to announce this fact and look curiously at Samantha Ann +Ripley to see how she took the news. + +To say the truth, the community did not seem to be overpowered by its +bereavement. There seemed to be a general feeling that Mrs. Pettigrove +had never been wanted in Pleasant River, coupled with a mild surprise +that she should have been wanted anywhere else. Speculation was rife as +to who would keep house for Dave Milliken, and whether Samantha Ann +would bury the Ripley-Milliken battle-axe and go to the funeral, and +whether Mis' Pettigrove had left her property to David, as was right, or +to her husband's sister in New Hampshire, which would be a sin and a +shame; but jest as likely as not, though she was well off and didn't +need it no more 'n a toad would a pocket-book, and couldn't bear the +sight o' Lyddy besides,--and whether Mr. Pettigrove's first wife's +relations would be asked to the funeral, bein' as how they hadn't spoke +for years, 'n' wouldn't set on the same side the meetin'-house, but when +you come to that, if only the folks that was on good terms with Lyddy +Pettigrove was asked to the funeral, there'd be a slim attendance, +and--so on. + +Aunt Hitty was the most important person in the village on these +occasions. It was she who assisted in the last solemn preparations and +took the last solemn stitches; and when all was done, and she hung her +little reticule on her arm, and started to walk from the house of +bereavement to her own home (where "Si" was anxiously awaiting his +nightly draught of gossip), no royal herald could have been looked for +with greater interest or greeted with greater cordiality. All the +housewives that lived on the direct road were on their doorsteps, so as +not to lose a moment, and all that lived off the road had seen her from +the upstairs windows, and were at the gate to waylay her as she passed. +At such a moment Aunt Hitty's bosom swelled with honest pride, and she +humbly thanked her Maker that she had been bred to the use of scissors +and needle. + +Two days of this intoxicating popularity had just passed; the funeral +was over, and she ran in to the White Farm on her way home, to carry a +message, and to see with her own eyes how Samantha Ann Ripley was +comporting herself. + +"You didn't git out to the fun'ral, did ye, Samanthy?" she asked, as she +seated herself cosily by the kitchen window. + +"No, I didn't. I never could see the propriety o' goin' to see folks +dead that you never went to see alive." + +"How you talk! That's one way o' puttin' it! Well, everybody was lookin' +for you, and you missed a very pleasant fun'ral. David 'n' I arranged +everything as neat as wax, and it all went off like clock-work, if I do +say so as shouldn't. Mis' Pettigrove made a beautiful remains." + +"I'm glad to hear it. It's the first beautiful thing she ever did make, +I guess!" + +"How you talk! Ain't you a leetle hard on Lyddy, Samanthy? She warn't +sech a bad neighbor, and she couldn't help bein' kind o' sour like. She +was born with her teeth on aidge, to begin with, and then she'd ben +through seas o' trouble with them Pettigroves." + +"Like enough; but even if folks has ben through seas o' trouble, they +needn't be everlastin'ly spittin' up salt brine. 'Passin' through the +valley of sorrow they make it full o' fountings;' that's what the Psalms +says 'bout bearin' trouble." + +"Lyddy warn't much on fountings," said Aunt Hitty contemplatively; "but, +there, we hadn't ought to speak nothin' but good o' the dead. Land +sakes! You'd oughter heard Elder Weekses remarks; they was splendid. We +ain't hed better remarks to any fun'ral here for years. I shouldn't 'a' +suspicioned he was preachin' 'bout Lyddy, though. Our minister's sick +abed, you know, 'n' warn't able to conduct the ex'cises. Si thinks he +went to bed a-purpose, but I wouldn't hev it repeated; so David got +Elder Weeks from Moderation. He warn't much acquainted with the remains, +but he done all the better for that. He's got a wond'ful faculty for +fun'rals. They say he's sent for for miles around. He'd just come from +a fun'ral nine miles the other side o' Moderation, up on the Blueb'ry +road; so he was a leetle mite late, 'n' David 'n' I was as nervous as +witches, for every room was cram full 'n' the thermometer stood at 87 in +the front entry, 'n' the bearers sot out there by the well-curb, with +the sun beatin' down on 'em, 'n' two of 'em, Squire Hicks 'n' Deacon +Dunn, was fast asleep. Inside, everything was as silent 's the tomb, +'cept the kitchen clock, 'n' that ticked loud enough to wake the dead +most. I thought I should go inter conniptions. I set out to git up 'n' +throw a shawl over it, it ticked so loud. Then, while we was all settin' +there 's solemn 's the last trump, what does old Aunt Beccy Burnham do +but git up from the kitchen corner where she sot, take the corn-broom +from behind the door, and sweep down a cobweb that was lodged up in one +o' the corners over the mantelpiece! We all looked at one 'nother, 'n' I +thought for a second somebody 'd laugh, but nobody dassed, 'n' there +warn't a sound in the room 's Aunt Beccy sot down agin' without movin' a +muscle in her face. Just then the minister drove in the yard with his +horse sweatin' like rain; but behind time as he was, he never slighted +things a mite. His prayer was twenty-three minutes by the clock. +Twenty-three minutes is a leetle mite too long this kind o' weather, but +it was an all-embracin' prayer, 'n' no mistake! Si said when he got +through the Lord had his instructions on most any p'int that was likely +to come up durin' the season. When he got through his remarks there +warn't a dry eye in the room. I don't s'pose it made any odds whether he +was preachin' 'bout Mis' Pettigrove or the woman on the Blueb'ry +road,--it was a movin', elevatin' discourse, 'n' that was what we went +there for." + +"It wouldn't 'a' ben so elevatin' if he'd told the truth," said +Samantha; "but, there, I ain't goin' to spit no more spite out. Lyddy +Pettigrove's dead, 'n' I hope she's in heaven, and all I can say is, +that she'll be dretful busy up there ondoin' all she done down here. You +say there was a good many out?" + +"Yes; we ain't hed so many out for years, so Susanna Rideout says, and +she'd ought to know, for she ain't missed a fun'ral sence she was nine +years old, and she's eighty-one, come Thanksgivin', ef she holds out +that long. She says fun'rals is 'bout the only recreation she has, 'n' +she doos git a heap o' satisfaction out of 'em, 'n' no mistake. She'll +go early, afore any o' the comp'ny assembles. She'll say her clock must +'a' ben fast, 'n' then they'll ask her to set down 'n' make herself to +home. Then she'll choose her seat accordin' to the way the house is +planned. She won't git too fur from the remains, because she'll want to +see how the fam'ly appear when they take their last look, but she'll +want to git opposite a door, where she can look into the other rooms 'n' +see whether they shed any tears when the minister begins his remarks. +She allers takes a little gum camphire in her pocket, so't if anybody +faints away durin' the long prayer, she's right on hand. Bein' near the +door, she can hear all the minister says, 'n' how the order o' the +mourners is called, 'n' ef she ain't too fur from the front winders she +can hev a good view of the bearers and the mourners as they get into the +kerridges. There's a sight in knowin' how to manage at a fun'ral; it +takes faculty, same as anything else." + +"How does David bear up?" asked Miss Vilda. + +"Oh, he's calm. David was always calm and resigned, you know. He shed +tears durin' the remarks, but I s'pose, mebbe, he was wishin' they was +more appropriate. He's about the forlornest creeter now you ever see' in +your life. There never was any self-assume to David Milliken. I declare +it's enough to make you cry jest to look at him. I cooked up victuals +enough to last him a week, but that ain't no way for men-folks to live. +When he comes in at noon-time he washes up out by the pump, 'n' then he +steps int' the butt'ry 'n' pours some cold tea out the teapot 'n' takes +a drink of it, 'n' then a bite o' cold punkin pie 'n' then more tea, all +the time stan'in' up to the shelf 'stid o' sittin' down like a +Christian, and lookin' out the winder as if his mind was in Hard +Scrabble 'n' his body in Buttertown, 'n' as if he didn't know whether he +was eatin' pie or putty. Land! I can't bear to watch him. I dassay he +misses Lyddy's jawin',--it must seem dretful quiet. I declare it seems +to me that meek, resigned folks, that's too good to squeal out when +they're abused, is allers the ones that gits the hardest knocks; but I +don't doubt but what there's goin' to be an everlastin' evenupness +somewheres." + +Samantha got up suddenly and went to the sink window. "It's 'bout time +the men come in for their dinner," she said. But though Jabe was mowing +the millstone hill, and though he wore a red flannel shirt, she could +not see him because of the tears that blinded her eyes. + + + + +SCENE XIII. + +_The Village._ + +PLEASANT RIVER IS BAPTIZED WITH THE SPIRIT OF ADOPTION. + + +"But I didn't come in to talk 'bout the fun'ral," continued Aunt Hitty, +wishing that human flesh were transparent so that she could see through +Samanthy Ann Ripley's back. "I had an errant 'n' oughter ben in afore, +but I've ben so busy these last few days I couldn't find rest for the +sole o' my foot skersely. I've sewed in seven dif'rent houses sence I +was here last, and I've made it my biz'ness to try 'n' stop the gossip +'bout them children 'n' give folks the rights o' the matter, 'n' git 'em +interested to do somethin' for 'em. Now there ain't a livin' soul that +wants the boy, but"-- + +"Timothy," said Miss Vilda hurriedly, "run and fetch me a passle of +chips, that's a good boy. Land sakes! Aunt Hitty, you needn't tell him +to his face that nobody wants him. He's got feelin's like any other +child." + +"He set there so quiet with a book in front of him I clean forgot he was +in the room," said Aunt Hitty apologetically. "Land! I'm so +tender-hearted I can't set my foot on a June bug 'n' 't aint' likely I'd +hurt anybody's feelin's, but as I was sayin' I can't find nobody that +wants the boy, but the Doctor's wife thinks p'raps she'll be willin' to +take the baby 'n' board her for nothing if somebody else 'll pay for her +clothes. At least she'll try her a spell 'n' see how she behaves, 'n' +whether she's good comp'ny for her own little girl that's a reg'lar limb +o' Satan anyway, 'n' consid'able worse sence she's had the scarlit +fever, 'n' deef as a post too, tho' they're blisterin' her, 'n' she may +git over it. I told her I'd bring Gay over to-night as I was comin' by, +bein' as how she was worn out with sickness 'n' house-cleanin' 'n' one +thing 'n' nother, 'n' couldn't come to git her very well herself. I +thought mebbe you'd be willin' to pay for her clothes ruther 'n hev so +much talk 'bout it, tho' I've told everybody that they walked right in +to the front gate, 'n' you 'n' Samanthy never set eyes on 'em before, +'n' didn't know where they come from." + +Samantha wiped her eyes surreptitiously with the dishcloth and turned a +scarlet face away from the window. Timothy was getting his "passle o' +chips." Gay had spied him, and toddling over to his side, holding her +dress above the prettiest little pair of feet that ever trod clover, had +sat down on him (a favorite pastime of hers), and after jolting her fat +little person up and down on his patient head, rolled herself over and +gave him a series of bear-hugs. Timothy looked pale and languid, +Samantha thought, and though Gay waited for a frolic with her most +adorable smile, he only lifted her coral necklace to kiss the place +where it hung, and tied on her sun-bonnet soberly. Samantha wished that +Vilda had been looking out of the window. Her own heart didn't need +softening, but somebody else's did, she was afraid. + +"I'm much obliged to you for takin' so much interest in the children," +said Miss Vilda primly, "and partic'lerly for clearin' our characters, +which everybody that lives in this village has to do for each other +'bout once a week, and the rest o' the time they take for spoilin' of +'em. And the Doctor's wife is very kind, but I shouldn't think o' +sendin' the baby away so sudden while the boy is still here. It +wouldn't be no kindness to Mis' Mayo, for she'd have a regular French +and Indian war right on her premises. It was here the children came, +just as you say, and it's our duty to see 'em settled in good homes, but +I shall take a few days more to think 'bout it, and I'll let her know by +Saturday night what we've decided to do.--That's the most meddlesome, +inteferin', gossipin' woman in this county," she added, as Mrs. Silas +Tarbox closed the front gate, "and I wouldn't have her do another day's +work at this house if I didn't have to. But it's worse for them that +don't have her than for them that does.--Now there's the Baptist +minister drivin' up to the barn. What under the canopy does he want? +Tell him Jabe ain't to home, Samanthy. No, you needn't, for he's +hitched, and seems to be comin' to the front door." + +"I never could abide the looks of him," said Samantha, peering over Miss +Vilda's shoulder. "No man with a light chiny blue eye like that oughter +be allowed to go int' the ministry; for you can't love your brother whom +you hev seen with that kind of an eye, and how are you goin' to love the +Lord whom you hev not seen?" + +Mr. Southwick, who was a spare little man in a long linen duster that +looked as if it had not been in the water as often as its wearer, sat +down timidly on the settle and cleared his throat. + +"I've come to talk with you on a little matter of business, Miss +Cummins. Brother Slocum has--a--conferred with me on the subject of +a--a--couple of unfortunate children who have--a--strayed, as it were, +under your hospitable roof, and whom--a--you are properly anxious to +place--a--under other rooves, as it were. Now you are aware, perhaps, +that Mrs. Southwick and I have no children living, though we have at +times had our quivers full of them--a--as the Scripture says; but the +Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord, +however, that is--a--neither here nor there. Brother Slocum has so +interested us that my wife (who is leading the Woman's Auxiliary Praying +Legion this afternoon or she would have come herself) wishes me to say +that she would like to receive one of these--a--little waifs into our +family on probation, as it were, and if satisfactory to both parties, to +bring it up--a--somewhat as our own, in the nurture and admonition of +the Lord." + +Samantha waited, in breathless suspense. Miss Vilda never would fling +away an opportunity of putting a nameless, homeless child under the roof +of a minister of the Gospel, even if he was a Baptist, with a chiny blue +eye. + +At this exciting juncture there was a clatter of small feet; the door +burst open, and the "unfortunate waifs" under consideration raced across +the floor to the table where Miss Vilda and Samantha were seated. Gay's +sun-bonnet trailed behind her, every hair on her head curled separately, +and she held her rag-doll upside down with entire absence of decorum. +Timothy's paleness, whatever the cause, had disappeared for the moment, +and his eyes shone like stars. + +"Oh, Miss Vilda!" he cried breathlessly; "dear Miss Vilda and Samanthy, +the gray hen did want to have chickens, and that is what made her so +cross, and she is setting, and we've found her nest in the alder bushes +by the pond!" + +("G'ay hen's net in er buttes by er pond," sung Gay, like a Greek +chorus.) + +"And we sat down softly beside the pond, but Gay sat into it." + +("Gay sat wite into it, an' dolly dot her dess wet, but Gay nite ittle +dirl; Gay didn't det wet!") + +"And by and by the gray hen got off to get a drink of water"-- + +("To det a dink o' water"--) + +"And we counted the eggs, and there were thirteen big ones!" + +("Fir-teen drate bid ones!") + +"So that the darling thing had to s-w-ell out to cover them up!" + +("Darlin' fin ser-welled out an' tuvvered 'em up!") said Gay, going +through the same operation. + +"Yes," said Miss Vilda, looking covertly at Mr. Southwick (who had an +eye for beauty, notwithstanding Samantha's strictures), "that's very +nice, but you mustn't stay here now; we are talkin' to the minister. Run +away, both of you, and let the settin' hen alone.--Well, as I was goin' +to say, Mr. Southwick, you're very kind and so 's your wife, and I'm +sure Timothy, that's the boy's name, would be a great help and comfort +to both of you, if you're fond of children, and we should be glad to +have him near by, for we feel kind of responsible for him, though he's +no relation of ours. And we'll think about the matter over night, and +let you know in the morning." + +"Yes, exactly, I see, I see; but it was the young child, the--a--female +child, that my wife desired to take into her family. She does not care +for boys, and she is particularly fond of girls, and so am I, very fond +of girls--a--in reason." + +Miss Vilda all at once made up her mind on one point, and only wished +that Samantha wouldn't stare at her as if she had never seen her before. +"I'm sorry to disappoint your wife, Mr. Southwick. It seems that Mrs. +Tarbox and Jabez Slocum have been offerin' the child to every family in +the village, and I s'pose bime bye they'll have the politeness to offer +her to me; but, at any rate, whether they do or not, I propose to keep +her myself, and I'd thank you to tell folks so, if they ask you. Mebbe +you'd better give it out from the pulpit, though I can let Mis' Tarbox +know, and that will answer the same purpose. This is the place the baby +was brought, and this is the place she's goin' to stay." + +"Vildy, you're a good woman!" cried Samantha, when the door closed on +the Reverend Mr. Southwick. "I'm proud o' you, Vildy, 'n' I take back +all the hard thoughts I've ben hevin' about you lately. The idee o' +that chiny-eyed preacher thinkin' he was goin' to carry that child home +in his buggy with hardly so much as sayin' 'Thank you, marm!' I like his +Baptist imperdence! His wife hed better wash his duster afore she adopts +any children. If they'd carry their theories 'bout immersion 's fur as +their close, 't wouldn't be no harm." + +"I don' know as I'd have agreed to keep either of 'em ef the whole +village hadn't intefered and wanted to manage my business for me, and be +so dretful charitable all of a sudden, and dictate to me and try to show +me my duty. I haven't had a minute's peace for more 'n a fortnight, and +now I hope they'll let me alone. I'll take the boy to the city +to-morrow, if I live to see the light, and when I come back I'll tie up +the gate and keep the neighbors out till this nine days' wonder gets +crowded out o' their heads by somethin' new." + +"You're goin' to take Timothy to the city, are you?" asked Samantha +sharply. + +"That's what I'm goin' to do; and the sooner the better for everybody +concerned. Timothy, shut that door and run out to the barn, and don't +you let me see you again till supper-time; do you hear me?" + +"And you're goin' to put him in one o' them Homes?" + +"Yes, I am. You see for yourself we can't find any place fer him +hereabouts." + +"Well, I've ben waitin' for days to see what you was goin' to do, and +now I'll tell you what I'm goin' to do, if you'd like to know. I'm goin' +to keep Timothy myself; to have and to hold from this time forth and for +evermore, as the Bible says. That's what I'm goin' to do!" + +Miss Cummins gasped with astonishment. + +"I mean what I say, Vildy. I ain't so well off as some, but I ain't a +pauper, not by no means. I've ben layin' by a little every year for +twenty years, 'n' you know well enough what for; but that's all over for +ever and ever, amen, thanks be! And I ain't got chick nor child, nor +blood relation in the world, and if I choose to take somebody to do for, +why, it's nobody's affairs but my own." + +"You can't do it, and you sha'n't do it!" said Miss Vilda excitedly. +"You ain't goin' to make a fool of yourself, if I can help it. We can't +have two children clutterin' up this place and eatin' us out of house +and home, and that's the end of it." + +"It ain't the end of it, Vildy Cummins, not by no manner o' means! If we +can't keep both of 'em, do you know what I think 'bout it? I think we'd +ought to give away the one that everybody wants and keep the other that +nobody does want, more fools they! That's religion, accordin' to my way +o' thinkin'. I love the baby, dear knows; but see here. Who planned this +thing all out? Timothy. Who took that baby up in his own arms and +fetched her out o' that den o' thieves? Timothy. Who stood all the resk +of gittin' that innocent lamb out o' that sink of iniquity, and hed wit +enough to bring her to a place where she could grow up respectable? +Timothy. And do you ketch him say in' a word 'bout himself from fust to +last? Not by no manner o' means. That ain't Timothy. And what doos the +lovin' gen'rous, faithful little soul git? He gits his labor for his +pains. He hears folks say right to his face that nobody wants him and +everybody wants Gay. And if he didn't have a disposition like a +cherubim-an-seraphim (and better, too, for they 'continually do cry,' +now I come to think of it), he'd be sour and bitter, 'stid o' bein' good +as an angel in a picture-book from sun-up to sun-down!" + +Miss Vilda was crushed by the overpowering weight of this argument, and +did not even try to stem the resistless tide of Samantha's eloquence. + +"And now folks is all of a high to take in the baby for a spell, jest +for a plaything, because her hair curls, 'n' she's handsome, 'n' light +complected, 'n' cunning, 'n' a girl (whatever that amounts to is more 'n +I know!), and that blessed boy is tread under foot as if he warn't no +better 'n an angleworm! And do you mean to tell me you don't see the +Lord's hand in this hull bus'ness, Vildy Cummins? There's other kinds o' +meracles besides buddin' rods 'n' burnin' bushes 'n' loaves 'n' fishes. +What do you s'pose guided that boy to pass all the other houses in this +village 'n' turn in at the White Farm? Don't you s'pose he was led? +Well, I don't need a Bible nor yit a concordance to tell _me_ he was. +_He_ didn't know there was plenty 'n' to spare inside this gate; a +great, empty house 'n' full cellar, 'n' hay 'n' stock in the barn, and +cowpons in the bank, 'n' two lone, mis'able women inside, with nothin' +to do but keep flies out in summer-time, 'n' pile wood on in +winter-time, till they got so withered up 'n' gnarly they warn't hardly +wuth getherin' int' the everlastin' harvest! _He_ didn't know it, I say, +but the Lord did; 'n' the Lord's intention was to give us a chance to +make our callin' 'n' election sure, 'n' we can't do that by turnin' our +backs on His messenger, and puttin' of him ou'doors! The Lord intended +them children should stay together or He wouldn't 'a' started 'em out +that way; now that's as plain as the nose on my face, 'n' that's +consid'able plain as I've ben told afore now, 'n' can see for myself in +the glass without any help from anybody, thanks be!" + +"Everybody 'll laugh at us for a couple o' soft-hearted fools," said +Miss Vilda feebly, after a long pause. "We'll be a spectacle for the +whole village." + +"What if we be? Let's be a spectacle, then!" said Samantha stoutly. +"We'll be a spectacle for the angels as well as the village, when you +come to that! When they look down 'n' see us gittin' outside this +dooryard 'n' doin' one o' the Lord's chores for the first time in ten or +fifteen years, I guess they'll be consid'able excited! But there's no +use in talkin', I've made up my mind, Vildy. We've lived together for +thirty years 'n' ain't hardly hed an ugly word ('n' dretful dull it hez +ben for both of us!), 'n' I sha'n't live nowheres else without you tell +me to go; but I've got lots o' good work in me yit, 'n' I'm goin' to +take that boy up 'n' give him a chance, 'n' let him stay alongside o' +the thing he loves best in the world. And if there ain't room for all of +us in the fourteen rooms o' this part o' the house, Timothy 'n' I can +live in the L, as you've allers intended I should if I got married. And +I guess this is 'bout as near to gittin' married as either of us ever +'ll git now, 'n' consid'able nearer 'n I've expected to git, lately. And +I'll tell Timothy this very night, when he goes to bed, for he's +grievin' himself into a fit o' sickness, as anybody can tell that's got +a glass eye in their heads!" + + + + +SCENE XIV. + +_A Point of Honor._ + +TIMOTHY JESSUP RUNS AWAY A SECOND TIME, AND, LIKE OTHER BLESSINGS, +BRIGHTENS AS HE TAKES HIS FLIGHT. + + +It was almost dusk, and Jabe Slocum was struggling with the nightly +problem of getting the cow from the pasture without any expenditure of +personal effort. Timothy was nowhere to be found, or he would go and be +glad to do the trifling service for his kind friend without other +remuneration than a cordial "Thank you." Failing Timothy there was +always Billy Pennell, who would not go for a "Thank you," being a boy of +a sordid and miserly manner of thought, but who would go for a cent and +chalk the cent up, which made it a more reasonable charge than would +appear to the casual observer. So Jabe lighted his corn-cob pipe, and +extended himself under a willow-tree beside the pond, singing in a +cheerful fashion,-- + + "'Tremblin' sinner, calm your fears! + Jesus is always ready. + Cease your sin and dry your tears, + Jesus is always ready!'" + +"And dretful lucky for you He is!" muttered Samantha, who had come to +look for Timothy. "Jabe! Jabe! Has Timothy gone for the cow?" + +"Dunno. Jest what I was goin' to ask you when I got roun' to it." + +"Well, how are you goin' to find out?" + +"Find out by seein' the cow if he hez gone, an' by not seein' no cow if +he hain't. I'm comf'table either way it turns out. One o' them writin' +fellers that was up here summerin' said, 'They also serve who'd ruther +stan' 'n' wait' 'd be a good motto for me, 'n' he's about right when +I've ben hayin'. Look down there at the shiners, ain't they cool? Gorry! +I wish I was a fish!" + +"If you was you wouldn't wear your fins out, that's certain!" + +"Come now, Samanthy, don't be hard on a feller after his day's work. +Want me to git up 'n' blow the horn for the boy?" + +"No, thank you," answered Samantha cuttingly. "I wouldn't ask you to +spend your precious breath for fear you'd be too lazy to draw it in +agin. When I want to get anything done I can gen'ally spunk up sprawl +enough to do it myself, thanks be!" + +"Wall now, Samanthy, you cheat the men-folks out of a heap o' pleasure +bein' so all-fired independent, did ye know it? + + "'Tremblin' sinner, calm your fears! + Jesus is always ready.'" + +"When 'd you see him last?" + +"I hain't seen him sence 'bout noon-time. Warn't he into supper?" + +"No. We thought he was off with you. Well, I guess he's gone for the +cow, but I should think he'd be hungry. It's kind o' queer." + +Miss Vilda was seated at the open window in the kitchen, and Lady Gay +was enthroned in her lap, sleepy, affectionate, tractable, adorable. + +"How would you like to live here at the White Farm, deary?" asked Miss +Vilda. + +"O, yet. I yike to live here if Timfy doin' to live here too. I yike oo, +I yike Samfy, I yike Dabe, I yike white tat 'n' white tow 'n' white +bossy 'n' my boofely desses 'n' my boofely dolly 'n' er day hen 'n' I +yikes evelybuddy!" + +"But you'd stay here like a nice little girl if Timothy had to go away, +wouldn't you?" + +"No, I won't tay like nite ittle dirl if Timfy do 'way. If Timfy do +'way, I do too. I's Timfy's dirl." + +"But you're too little to go away with Timothy." + +"Ven I ky an keam an kick an hold my bwef--I s'ow you how!" + +"No, you needn't show me how," said Vilda hastily. "Who do you love +best, deary, Samanthy or me?" + +"I yuv Timfy bet. Lemme twy rit-man-poor-man-bedder-man-fief on your +buckalins, pease." + +"Then you'll stay here and be my little girl, will you?" + +"Yet, I tay here an' be Timfy's ittle dirl. Now oo p'ay by your own seff +ittle while, Mit Vildy, pease, coz I dot to det down an find Samfy an' +put my dolly to bed coz she's defful seepy." + +"It's half past eight," said Samantha coming into the kitchen, "and +Timothy ain't nowheres to be found, and Jabe hain't seen him sence +noon-time." + +"You needn't be scared for fear you've lost your bargain," remarked Miss +Vilda sarcastically. "There ain't so many places open to the boy that +he'll turn his back on this one, I guess!" + + +Yet, though the days of chivalry were over, that was precisely what +Timothy Jessup had done. + +Wilkins's Wood was a quiet stretch of timber land that lay along the +banks of Pleasant River; and though the natives (for the most part) +never noticed but that it was paved with asphalt and roofed in with +oilcloth, yet it was, nevertheless, the most tranquil bit of loveliness +in all the country round. For there the river twisted and turned and +sparkled in the sun, and "bent itself in graceful courtesies of +farewell" to the hills it was leaving; and kissed the velvet meadows +that stooped to drink from its brimming cup; and lapped the trees +gently, as they hung over its crystal mirrors the better to see their +own fresh beauty. And here it wound "about and in and out," laughing in +the morning sunlight, to think of the tiny streamlet out of which it +grew; paling and shimmering at evening when it held the stars and +moonbeams in its bosom; and trembling in the night wind to think of the +great unknown sea into whose arms it was hurrying. + +Here was a quiet pool where the rushes bent to the breeze and the quail +dipped her wing; and there a winding path where the cattle came down to +the edge, and having looked upon the scene and found it all very good, +dipped their sleek heads to drink and drink and drink of the river's +nectar. Here the first pink mayflowers pushed their sweet heads through +the reluctant earth, and waxen Indian pipes grew in the moist places, +and yellow violets hid themselves beneath their modest leaves. + +And here sat Timothy, with all his heart in his eyes, bidding good-by to +all this soft and tender loveliness. And there, by his side, faithful +unto death (but very much in hopes of something better), sat Rags, and +thought it a fine enough prospect, but one that could be beaten at all +points by a bit of shed-view he knew of,--a superincumbent hash-pan, an +empty milk-dish, and an emaciated white cat flying round a corner! The +remembrance of these past joys brought the tears to his eyes, but he +forbore to let them flow lest he should add to the griefs of his little +master, which, for aught he knew, might be as heavy as his own. + +Timothy was comporting himself, at this trying crisis, neither as a hero +nor as a martyr. There is no need of exaggerating his virtues. Enough to +say, not that he was a hero, but that he had in him the stuff out of +which heroes are made. Win his heart and fire his imagination, and there +is no splendid deed of which the little hero would not have been +capable. But that he knew precisely what he was leaving behind, or what +he was going forth to meet, would be saying too much. One thing he did +know: that Miss Vilda had said distinctly that two was one too many, and +that he was the objectionable unit referred to. And in addition to this +he had more than once heard that very day that nobody in Pleasant River +wanted him, but that there would be plenty of homes open to Gay if he +were safely out of the way. A little allusion to a Home, which he caught +when he was just bringing in a four-leafed clover to show to Samantha, +completed the stock of ideas from which he reasoned. He was very clear +on one point, and that was that he would never be taken alive and put in +a Home with a capital H. He respected Homes, he approved of them, for +other boys, but personally they were unpleasant to him, and he had no +intention of dwelling in one if he could help it. The situation did not +appear utterly hopeless in his eyes. He had his original dollar and +eighty-five cents in money; Rags and he had supped like kings off wild +blackberries and hard gingerbread; and, more than all, he was young and +mercifully blind to all but the immediate present. Yet even in taking +the most commonplace possible view of his character it would be folly to +affirm that he was anything but unhappy. His soul was not sustained by +the consciousness of having done a self-forgetting and manly act, for he +was not old enough to have such a consciousness, which is something the +good God gives us a little later on, to help us over some of the hard +places. + +"Nobody wants me! Nobody wants me!" he sighed, as he lay down under the +trees. "Nobody ever did want me,--I wonder why! And everybody loves my +darling Gay and wants to keep her, and I don't wonder about that. But, +oh, if I only belonged to somebody! (Cuddle up close, little Ragsy; +we've got nobody but just each other, and you can put your head into the +other pocket that hasn't got the gingerbread in it, if you please!) If +I only was like that little butcher's boy that he lets ride on the seat +with him, and hold the reins when he takes meat into the houses,--or if +I only was that freckled-face boy with the straw hat that lives on the +way to the store! His mother keeps coming out to the gate on purpose to +kiss him. Or if I was even Billy Pennell! He's had three mothers and two +fathers in three years, Jabe says. Jabe likes me, I think, but he can't +have me live at his house, because his mother is the kind that needs +plenty of room, he says,--and Samanthy has no house. But I did what I +tried to do. I got away from Minerva Court and found a lovely place for +Gay to live, with two mothers instead of one; and maybe they'll tell her +about me when she grows bigger, and then she'll know I didn't want to +run away from her, but whether they tell her or not, she's only a little +baby, and boys must always take care of girls; that's what my +dream-mother whispers to me in the night,--and that's ... what ... I'm +always ..." + +Come! gentle sleep, and take this friendless little knight-errant in thy +kind arms! Bear him across the rainbow bridge, and lull him to rest +with the soft plash of waves and sighing of branches! Cover him with thy +mantle of dreams, sweet goddess, and give him in sleep what he hath +never had in waking! + + +Meanwhile, a more dramatic scene was being enacted at the White Farm. It +was nine o'clock, and Samantha had gone from pond to garden, shed to +barn, and gate to dairy, a dozen times, but there was no sign of +Timothy. Gay had refused to be undressed till "Timfy" appeared on the +premises, but had fallen asleep in spite of the most valiant resolution, +and was borne upstairs by Samantha, who made her ready for bed without +waking her. + +As she picked up the heap of clothes to lay them neatly on a chair, a +bit of folded paper fell from the bosom of the little dress. She glanced +at it, turned it over and over, read it quite through. Then, after +retiring behind her apron a moment, she went swiftly downstairs to the +dining-room where Miss Avilda and Jabe were sitting. + +"There!" she exclaimed, with a triumphant sob, as she laid the paper +down in front of the astonished couple. "That's a letter from Timothy. +He's run away, 'n' I don't blame him a mite 'n' I hope folks 'll be +satisfied now they've got red of the blessed angel, 'n' turned him +outdoors without a roof to his head! Read it out, 'n' see what kind of a +boy we've showed the door to!" + + + Dere Miss vilder and sermanthy. i herd you say i cood not stay here + enny longer and other peeple sed nobuddy wood have me and what you + sed about the home but as i do not like homes i am going to run + away if its all the same to you. Please give Jabe back his birds + egs with my love and i am sorry i broak the humming-bird's one but + it was a naxident. Pleas take good care of gay and i will come back + and get her when I am ritch. I thank you very mutch for such a + happy time and the white farm is the most butifull plase in the + whole whirld. TIM. + + p. s. i wood not tell you if i was going to stay but billy penel + thros stones at the white cow witch i fere will get into her milk + so no more from TIM. + + i am sorry not to say good by but i am afrade on acount of the home + so i put them here. + +[Illustration: Kisses] + +The paper fell from Miss Vilda's trembling fingers, and two salt tears +dropped into the kissing places. + +"The Lord forgive me!" she said at length (and it was many a year since +any one had seen her so moved). "The Lord forgive me for a hard-hearted +old woman, and give me a chance to make it right. Not one reproachful +word does he say to us about showin' partiality,--not one! And my heart +has kind of yearned over that boy from the first, but just because he +had Marthy's eyes he kept bringin' up the past to me, and I never looked +at him without rememberin' how hard and unforgivin' I'd ben to her, and +thinkin' if I'd petted and humored her a little and made life +pleasanter, perhaps she'd never have gone away. And I've scrimped and +saved and laid up money till it comes hard to pay it out, and when I +thought of bringin' up and schoolin' two children I cal'lated I couldn't +afford it; and yet I've got ten thousand dollars in the bank and the +best farm for miles around. Samanthy, you go fetch my bonnet and +shawl,--Jabe, you go and hitch up Maria, and we'll go after that boy and +fetch him back if he's to be found anywheres above ground! And if we +come across any more o' the same family trampin' around the country, +we'll bring them along home while we're about it, and see if we can't +get some sleep and some comfort out o' life. And the Missionary Society +can look somewheres else for money. There's plenty o' folks that don't +get good works set right down in their front yards for 'em to do. I'll +look out for the individyals for a spell, and let the other folks +support the societies!" + + + + +SCENE XV. + +_Wilkins's Woods._ + +LIKE ALL DOGS IN FICTION THE FAITHFUL RAGS GUIDES MISS VILDA TO HIS +LITTLE MASTER. + + +Samantha ran out to the barn to hold the lantern and see that Jabe +didn't go to sleep while he was harnessing Maria. But he seemed +unusually "spry" for him, although he was conducting himself in a +somewhat strange and unusual manner. His loose figure shook from time to +time, as with severe chills; he seemed too weak to hold up the shafts, +and so he finally dropped them and hung round Maria's neck in a sort of +mild, speechless convulsion. + +"What under the canopy ails you, Jabe Slocum?" asked Samantha. "I s'pose +it's one o' them everlastin' old addled jokes o' yourn you're tryin' to +hatch out, but it's a poor time to be jokin' now. What's the matter with +you?" + +"'Ask me no questions 'n' I'll tell you no lies,' is an awful good +motto," chuckled Jabe, with a new explosion of mirth that stretched his +mouth to an alarming extent. "Oh, there, I can't hold in 'nother minute. +I shall bust if I don' tell somebody! Set down on that nail kag, +Samanthy, 'n' I'll let you hev a leetle slice o' this joke--if you'll +keep it to yourself. You see I know--'bout--whar--to look--for this +here--runaway!" + +"You hev n't got him stowed away anywheres, hev you? If you hev, it'll +be the last joke you'll play on Vildy Cummins, I can tell you that much, +Jabe Slocum." + +"No, I hain't stowed him away, but I can tell putty nigh whar he's +stowed hisself away, and I'm ready to die a-laffin' to see how it's all +turned out jest as I suspicioned 't would. You see, Samanthy Ann, I +thought 'bout a week ago 't would be well enough to kind o' create a +demand for the young ones so 't they'd hev some kind of a market value, +and so I got Elder Southwick 'n' Aunt Hitty kind o' started on that +tack, 'n' it worked out slick as a whistle, tho' they didn't know I was +usin' of 'em as innercent instruments, and Aunt Hitty don't need much +encouragement to talk; it's a heap easier for her to drizzle 'n it is to +hold up! Well, I've ben surmisin' for a week that the boy meant to run +away, and to-day I was dead sure of it; for he come to me this +afternoon, when I was restin' a spell on account o' the hot sun, and he +was awful low-sperrited, 'n' he asked me every namable kind of a +question you ever hearn tell of, and all so simple-minded that I jest +turned him inside out 'thout his knowin' what I was doin'. Well, when I +found out what he was up to I could 'a' stopped him then 'n' there, tho' +I don' know 's I would anyhow, for I shouldn't like livin' in a 'sylum +any better 'n he doos; but thinks I to myself, thinks I, I'd better let +him run away, jest as he's a plannin',--and why? Cause it'll show what +kind o' stuff he's made of, and that he ain't no beggar layin' roun' +whar he ain't wanted, but a self-respectin' boy that's wuth lookin' +after. And thinks I, Samanthy, 'n' I know the wuth of him a'ready, but +there's them that hain't waked up to it yit, namely, Miss Vildy Trypheny +Cummins; and as Miss Vildy Trypheny Cummins is that kind o' cattle that +can't be drove, but hez to be kind o' coaxed along, mebbe this +runnin'-away bizness 'll be the thing that'll fetch her roun' to our way +o' thinkin'. Now I wouldn't deceive nobody for a farm down East with a +pig on it, but thinks I, there ain't no deceivin' 'bout this. He don' +know I know he's goin' to run away, so he's all square; and he never +told me nothin' 'bout his plans, so I'm all square; and Miss Vildy's +good as eighteen-karat gold when she gets roun' to it, so she'll be all +square; and Samanthy's got her blinders on 'n' don't see nothin' to the +right nor to the left, so she's all square. And I ain't inteferin' with +nobody. I'm jest lettin' things go the way they've started, 'n' stan'in' +to one side to see whar they'll fetch up, kind o' like Providence. I'm +leavin' Miss Vildy a free agent, but I'm shapin' circumstances so 's to +give her a chance. But, land! if I'd fixed up the thing to suit myself I +couldn't 'a' managed it as Timothy hez, 'thout knowin' that he was +managin' anything. Look at that letter bizness now! I couldn't 'a' writ +that letter better myself! And the sperrit o' the little feller, jest +takin' his dorg 'n' lightin' out with nothin' but a perlite good-bye! +Well I can't stop to talk no more 'bout it now, or we won't ketch him, +but we'll jest try Wilkins's Woods, Maria, 'n' see how that goes. The +river road leads to Edgewood 'n' Hillside, whar there's consid'able +hayin' bein' done, as I happened to mention to Timothy this afternoon; +and plenty o' blackberries 'side the road, 'specially after you pass the +wood-pile on the left-hand side, whar there's a reg'lar garding of 'em +right 'side of an old hoss-blanket that's layin' there; one that I +happened to leave there one time when I was sleepin' ou'doors for my +health, and that was this afternoon 'bout five o'clock, so I guess it +hain't changed its location sence." + + +Jabe and Miss Vilda drove in silence along the river road that skirted +Wilkins's Woods, a place where Jabe had taken Timothy more than once, so +he informed Miss Vilda, and a likely road for him to travel if he were +on his way to some of the near villages. + +Poor Miss Vilda! Fifty years old, and in twenty summers and winters +scarcely one lovely thought had blossomed into lovelier deed and shed +its sweetness over her arid and colorless life. And now, under the magic +spell of tender little hands and innocent lips, of luminous eyes that +looked wistfully into hers for a welcome, and the touch of a groping +helplessness that fastened upon her strength, the woman in her woke into +life, and the beauty and fragrance of long-ago summers came back again +as in a dream. + +After having driven three or four miles, they heard a melancholy sound +in the distance; and as they approached a huge wood-pile on the left +side of the road, they saw a small woolly form perched on a little rise +of ground, howling most melodiously at the August moon, that hung like a +ball of red fire in the cloudless sky. + +"That's a sign of death in the family, ain't it, Jabe?" whispered Miss +Vilda faintly. + +"So they say," he answered cheerfully; "but if 't is, I can 'count for +it, bein' as how I fertilized the pond lilies with a mess o' four white +kittens this afternoon; and as Rags was with me when I done it, he may +know what he's bayin' 'bout,--if 't is Rags, 'n' it looks enough like +him to be him,--'n' it is him, by Jiminy, 'n' Timothy's sure to be +somewheres near. I'll get out 'n' look roun' a little." + +"You set right still, Jabe, I'll get out myself, for if I find that boy +I've got something to say to him that nobody can say for me." + +As Jabe drew the wagon up beside the fence, Rags bounded out to meet +them. He knew Maria, bless your soul, the minute he clapped his eyes on +her, and as he approached Miss Vilda's congress boot his quivering +whiskers seemed to say, "Now, where have I smelled that boot before? If +I mistake not, it has been applied to me more than once. Ha! I have it! +Miss Vilda Cummins of the White Farm, owner of the white cat and +hash-pan, and companion of the lady with the firm hand, who wields the +broom!" whereupon he leaped up on Miss Cummins's black alpaca skirts, +and made for her flannel garters in a way that she particularly +disliked. + +"Now," said she, "if he's anything like the dogs you hear tell of, he'll +take us right to Timothy." + +"Wall, I don' know," said Jabe cautiously; "there's so many kinds o' +dorg in him you can't hardly tell what he will do. When dorgs is mixed +beyond a certain p'int it kind o' muddles up their instincks, 'n' you +can't rely on 'em. Still you might try him. Hold still, 'n' see what +he'll do." + +Miss Vilda "held still," and Rags jumped on her skirts. + +"Now, set down, 'n' see whar he'll go." + +Miss Vilda sat down, and Rags went into her lap. + +"Now, make believe start somewheres, 'n' mebbe he'll get ahead 'n' put +you on the right track." + +Miss Vilda did as she was told, and Rags followed close at her heels. + +"Gorry! I never see sech a fool!--or wait,--I'll tell you what's the +matter with him. Mebbe he ain't sech a fool as he looks. You see, he +knows Timothy wants to run away and don't want to be found 'n' clapped +into a 'sylum, 'n' nuther does he. And not bein' sure o' your +intentions, he ain't a-goin' to give hisself away; that's the way I size +Mr. Rags up!" + +"Nice doggy, nice doggy!" shuddered Miss Vilda, as Rags precipitated +himself upon her again. "Show me where Timothy is, and then we'll go +back home and have some nice bones. Run and find your little master, +that's a good doggy!" + +It would be a clever philosopher who could divine Rags's special method +of logic, or who could write him down either as fool or sage. Suffice it +to say that, at this moment (having run in all other possible +directions, and wishing, doubtless, to keep on moving), he ran round the +wood-pile; and Miss Vilda, following close behind, came upon a little +figure stretched on a bit of gray blanket. The pale face shone paler in +the moonlight; there were traces of tears on the cheeks; but there was a +heavenly smile on his parted lips, as if his dream-mother had rocked him +to sleep in her arms. Rags stole away to Jabe (for even mixed dogs have +some delicacy), and Miss Vilda went down on her knees beside the +sleeping boy. + +"Timothy, Timothy, wake up!" + +No answer. + +"Timothy, wake up! I've come to take you home!" + +Timothy woke with a sob and a start at that hated word, and seeing Miss +Vilda at once jumped to conclusions. + +"Please, please, dear Miss Vildy, don't take me to the Home, but find me +some other place, and I'll never, never run away from it!" + +"My blessed little boy, I've come to take you back to your own home at +the White Farm." + +It was too good to believe all at once. "Nobody wants me there," he said +hesitatingly. + +"Everybody wants you there," replied Miss Vilda, with a softer note in +her voice than anybody had ever heard there before. "Samantha wants +you, Gay wants you, and Jabe is waiting out here with Maria, for he +wants you." + +"But do you want me?" faltered the boy. + +"I want you more than all of 'em put together, Timothy; I want you, and +I need you most of all," cried Miss Vilda, with the tears coursing down +her withered cheeks; "and if you'll only forgive me for hurtin' your +feelin's and makin' you run away, you shall come to the White Farm and +be my own boy as long as you live." + +"Oh, Miss Vildy, darling Miss Vildy! are we both of us adopted, and are +we truly going to live with you all the time and never have to go to the +Home?" Whereupon, the boy flung his loving arms round Miss Vilda's neck +in an ecstasy of gratitude; and in that sweet embrace of trust and +confidence and joy, the stone was rolled away, once and forever, from +the sepulchre of Miss Vilda's heart, and Easter morning broke there. + + + + +SCENE XVI. + +_The New Homestead._ + +TIMOTHY'S QUEST IS ENDED, AND SAMANTHA SAYS "COME ALONG, DAVE!" + + +"Jabe Slocum! Do you know it's goin' on seven o'clock 'n' not a single +chore done?" + +Jabe yawned, turned over, and listened to Samantha's unwelcome voice, +which (considerably louder than the voice of conscience) came from the +outside world to disturb his delicious morning slumbers. + +"Jabe Slocum! Do you hear me?" + +"Hear you? Gorry! you'd wake the seven sleepers if they was any whar +within ear-shot!" + +"Well, will you git up?" + +"Yes, I'll git up if you're goin' to hev a brash 'bout it, but I wish +you hedn't waked me so awful suddent. 'Don't ontwist the mornin' glory' +'s my motto. Wait a spell 'n' the sun 'll do it, 'n' save a heap o' wear +'n' tear besides. Go 'long! I'll git up." + +"I've heerd that story afore, 'n' I won't go 'long tell I hear you step +foot on the floor." + +"Scoot! I tell yer I'll be out in a jiffy." + +"Yes, I think I see yer. Your jiffies are consid'able like golden +opportunities, there ain't more 'n one of 'em in a lifetime!" and having +shot this Parthian arrow Samantha departed, as one having done her duty +in that humble sphere of action to which it had pleased Providence to +call her. + +These were beautiful autumn days at the White Farm. The orchards were +gleaming, the grapes hung purple on the vines, and the odor of ripening +fruit was in the hazy air. The pink spirea had cast its feathery petals +by the gray stone walls, but the welcome golden-rod bloomed in royal +profusion along the brown waysides, and a crimson leaf hung here and +there in the treetops, just to give a hint of the fall styles in color. +Heaps of yellow pumpkins and squashes lay in the corners of the fields; +cornstalks bowed their heads beneath the weight of ripened ears; beans +threatened to burst through their yellow pods; the sound of the +threshing machine was heard in the land; and the "hull univarse wanted +to be waited on to once," according to Jabe Slocum; for, as he +affirmed, "Yer couldn't ketch up with your work nohow, for if yer set up +nights 'n' worked Sundays, the craps 'd ripen 'n' go to seed on yer +'fore yer could git 'em harvested!" + +And if there was peace and plenty without there was quite as much within +doors. + +"I can't hardly tell what's the matter with me these days," said +Samantha Ann to Miss Vilda, as they sat peeling and slicing apples for +drying. "My heart has felt like a stun these last years, and now all to +once it's so soft I'm ashamed of it. Seems to me there never was such a +summer! The hay never smelt so sweet, the birds never sang so well, the +currants never jelled so hard! Why I can't kick the cat, though she's +more everlastin'ly under foot 'n ever, 'n' pretty soon I sha'n't even +have sprawl enough to jaw Jabe Slocum. I b'lieve it's nothin' in the +world but them children! They keep a runnin' after me, 'n' it's dear +Samanthy here, 'n' dear Samanthy there, jest as if I warn't a hombly old +maid; 'n' they take holt o' my hands on both sides o' me, 'n' won't stir +a step tell I go to see the chickens with 'em, 'n' the pig, 'n' one +thing 'n' 'nother, 'n' clappin' their hands when I make 'em gingerbread +men! And that reminds me, I see the school-teacher goin' down along this +mornin', 'n' I run out to see how Timothy was gittin' along in his +studies. She says he's the most ex-tra-ordi-nary scholar in this +deestrick. She says he takes holt of every book she gives him jest as if +'t was reviewin' 'stid o' the first time over. She says when he speaks +pieces, Friday afternoons, all the rest o' the young ones set there with +their jaws hanging 'n' some of 'em laughin' 'n' cryin' 't the same time. +She says we'd oughter see some of his comp'sitions, 'n' she'll show us +some as soon as she gits 'em back from her beau that works at the +Waterbury Watch Factory, and they're goin' to be married 's quick as she +gits money enough saved up to buy her weddin' close; 'n' I told her not +to put it off too long or she'd hev her close on her hands, 'stid of her +back. She says Timothy's at the head of the hull class, but, land! there +ain't a boy in it that knows enough to git his close on right sid' out. +She's a splendid teacher, Miss Boothby is! She tells me the seeleck men +hev raised her pay to four dollars a week 'n' she to board herself, 'n' +she's wuth every cent of it. I like to see folks well paid that's got +the patience to set in doors 'n' cram information inter young ones that +don't care no more 'bout learn in' 'n' a skunk-blackbird. She give me +Timothy's writin' book, for you to see what he writ in it yesterday, 'n' +she hed to keep him in 't recess 'cause he didn't copy 'Go to the ant +thou sluggard and be wise,' as he'd oughter. Now let's see what 't is. +My grief! it's poetry sure 's you're born. I can tell it in a minute +'cause it don't come out to the aidge o' the book one side or the other. +Read it out loud, Vildy." + + "'Oh! the White Farm and the White Farm! + I love it with all my heart; + And I'm to live at the White Farm, + Till death it do us part.'" + +Miss Vilda lifted her head, intoxicated with the melody she had evoked. +"Did you ever hear anything like that," she exclaimed proudly. + + "'Oh! the White Farm and the White Farm! + I love it with all my heart; + And I'm to live at the White Farm, + Till death it do us part.'" + +"Just hear the sent'ment of it, and the way it sings along like a tune. +I'm goin' to show that to the minister this very night, and that boy's +got to have the best education there is to be had if we have to +mortgage the farm." + +Samantha Ann was right. The old homestead wore a new aspect these days, +and a love of all things seemed to have crept into the hearts of its +inmates, as if some beneficent fairy of a spider were spinning a web of +tenderness all about the house, or as if a soft light had dawned in the +midst of great darkness and was gradually brightening into the perfect +day. + +In the midst of this new-found gladness and the sweet cares that grew +and multiplied as the busy days went on, Samantha's appetite for +happiness grew by what it fed upon, so that before long she was a little +unhappy that other people (some more than others) were not as happy as +she; and Aunt Hitty was heard to say at the sewing-circle (which had +facilities for gathering and disseminating news infinitely superior to +those of the Associated Press), that Samantha Ann Ripley looked so peart +and young this summer, Dave Milliken had better spunk up and try again. + +But, alas! the younger and fresher and happier Samantha looked, the +older and sadder and meeker David appeared, till all hopes of his +"spunking up" died out of the village heart; and, it might as well be +stated, out of Samantha's also. She always thought about it at sun-down, +for it was at sun-down that all their quarrels and reconciliations had +taken place, inasmuch as it was the only leisure time for week-day +courting at Pleasant River. + +It was sun-down now; Miss Vilda and Jabez Slocum had gone to Wednesday +evening prayer-meeting, and Samantha was looking for Timothy to go to +the store with her on some household errands. She had seen the children +go into the garden a half hour before, Timothy walking gravely, with his +book before him, Gay blowing over the grass like a feather, and so she +walked towards the summer-house. + +Timothy was not there, but little Lady Gay was having a party all to +herself, and the scene was such a pretty one that Samantha stooped +behind the lattice and listened. + +There was a table spread for four, with bits of broken china and shells +for dishes, and pieces of apple and gingerbread for the feast. There +were several dolls present (notably one without any head, who was not +likely to shine at a dinner party), but Gay's first-born sat in her lap; +and only a mother could have gazed upon such a battered thing and loved +it. For Gay took her pleasures madly, and this faithful creature had +shared them all; but not having inherited her mother's somewhat rare +recuperative powers, she was now fit only for a free bed in a +hospital,--a state of mind and body which she did not in the least +endeavor to conceal. One of her shoe-button eyes dangled by a linen +thread in a blood-curdling sort of way; her nose, which had been a pink +glass bead, was now a mere spot, ambiguously located. Her red worsted +lips were sadly raveled, but that she did not regret, "for it was +kissin' as done it." Her yarn hair was attached to her head with +safety-pins, and her internal organs intruded themselves on the public +through a gaping wound in the side. Never mind! if you have any +curiosity to measure the strength of the ideal, watch a child with her +oldest doll. Rags sat at the head of the dinner-table, and had taken the +precaution to get the headless doll on his right, with a view to eating +her gingerbread as well as his own,--doing no violence to the +proprieties in this way, but rather concealing her defects from a +carping public. + +"I tell you sompfin' ittle Mit Vildy Tummins," Gay was saying to her +battered offspring. "You 's doin' to have a new ittle sit-ter +to-mowowday, if you 's a dood ittle dirl an does to seep nite an kick, +you _ser-weet_ ittle Vildy Tummins!" (All this punctuated with ardent +squeezes fraught with delicious agony to one who had a wound in her +side!) "Vay fink you 's worn out, 'weety, but we know you isn't, don' +we, 'weety? An I'll tell you nite ittle tory to-night, tause you isn't +seepy. Wunt there was a ittle day hen 'at tole a net an' laid fir-teen +waw edds in it, an bime bye erleven or seventeen ittle chits f'ew out of +'em, an Mit Vildy 'dopted 'em all! In 't that a nite tory, you +_ser-weet_ ittle Mit Vildy Tummins?" + +Samantha hardly knew why the tears should spring to her eyes as she +watched the dinner party,--unless it was because we can scarcely look at +little children in their unconscious play without a sort of sadness, +partly of pity and partly of envy, and of longing too, as for something +lost and gone. And Samantha could look back to the time when she had sat +at little tables set with bits of broken china, yes, in this very +summer-house, and little Martha was always so gay, and David used to +laugh so! "But there was no use in tryin' to make folks any dif'rent, +'specially if they was such nat'ral born fools they couldn't see a hole +in a grindstun 'thout hevin' it hung on their noses!" and with these +large and charitable views of human nature, Samantha walked back to the +gate, and met Timothy as he came out of the orchard. She knew then what +he had been doing. The boy had certain quaint thoughts and ways that +were at once a revelation and an inspiration to these two plain women, +and one of them was this. To step softly into the side orchard on +pleasant evenings, and without a word, before or afterwards, to lay a +nosegay on Martha's little white doorplate. And if Miss Vilda chanced to +be at the window he would give her a quiet little smile, as much as to +say, "We have no need of words, we two!" And Vilda, like one of old, hid +all these doings in her heart of hearts, and loved the boy with a love +passing knowledge. + +Samantha and Timothy walked down the hill to the store. Yes, David +Milliken was sitting all alone on the loafer's bench at the door, and +why wasn't he at prayer-meetin' where he ought to be? She was glad she +chanced to have on her clean purple calico, and that Timothy had +insisted on putting a pink Ma'thy Washington geranium in her collar, for +it was just as well to make folks' mouth water whether they had sense +enough to eat or not. + +"Who is that sorry-looking man that always sits on the bench at the +store, Samanthy?" + +"That's David Milliken." + +"Why does he look so sorry, Samanthy?" + +"Oh, he's all right. He likes it fust-rate, wearin' out that hard bench +settin' on it night in 'n' night out, like a bump on a log! But, there, +Timothy, I've gone 'n' forgot the whole pepper, 'n' we're goin' to +pickle seed cowcumbers to-morrer. You take the lard home 'n' put it in +the cold room, 'n' ondress Gay 'n' git her to bed, for I've got to call +int' Mis' Mayhew's goin' along back." + +It was very vexatious to be obliged to pass David Milliken a second +time; "though there warn't no sign that he cared anything about it one +way or 'nother, bein' blind as a bat, 'n' deef as an adder, 'n' dumb as +a fish, 'n' settin' stockstill there with no coat on, 'n' the wind +blowin' up for rain, 'n' four o' the Millikens layin' in the churchyard +with gallopin' consumption." It was in this frame of mind that she +purchased the whole pepper, which she could have eaten at that moment as +calmly as if it had been marrow-fat peas; and in this frame of mind she +might have continued to the end of time had it not been for one of those +unconsidered trifles that move the world when the great forces have +given up trying. As she came out of the store and passed David, her eye +fell on a patch in the flannel shirt that covered his bent shoulders. +The shirt was gray and (oh, the pity of it!) the patch was red; and it +was laid forlornly on outside, and held by straggling stitches of carpet +thread put on by patient, clumsy fingers. That patch had an irresistible +pathos for a woman! + +Samantha Ann Ripley never exactly knew what happened. Even the wisest of +down-East virgins has emotional lapses once in a while, and she +confessed afterwards that her heart riz right up inside of her like a +yeast cake. Mr. Berry, the postmaster, was in the back of the store +reading postal cards. Not a soul was in sight. She managed to get down +over the steps, though something with the strength of tarred ship-ropes +was drawing her back; and then, looking over her shoulder with her whole +brave, womanly heart in her swimming eyes, she put out her hand and +said, "Come along, Dave!" + +And David straightway gat him up from the loafer's bench and went unto +Samantha gladly. + +And they remembered not past unhappiness because of present joy; nor +that the chill of coming winter was in the air, because it was summer in +their hearts: and this is the eternal magic of love. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Timothy's Quest, by Kate Douglas Wiggin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TIMOTHY'S QUEST *** + +***** This file should be named 18531.txt or 18531.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/5/3/18531/ + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Janet Blenkinship and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This book was produced from scanned images of public +domain material from the Google Print project) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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