Read Ebook: Maid Sally by Cheever Harriet A Harriet Anna Davidson Bertha G Illustrator

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Ebook has 1230 lines and 41245 words, and 25 pages

. I bethink me our country is going to need men of the right kind before many years are past."

"The children of the poor cannot obtain the learning that comes through books," said Rosamond; "prithee, how much must it be with them?"

Lionel replied, stoutly:

He spoke fearlessly as there he stood, a fine lad in fine garments that had been brought from across the sea; his fair, clinging hair had been pushed back from his white forehead, for he would have none of the queue worn by many very young men in those days. His waistcoat was daintily ruffled down the front, and a fall of lace was about his hands. A broad ring, with a clear white stone, glittered on one finger. His knee-breeches were of the finest gray linen, with gray satin bows and silver buckles at the knee bands. He wore, also, long gray stockings, "clocked," or with wrought figures up the sides, and pumps of polished leather with silver buckles in the rosettes.

The son of a gentleman, standing in the even-light, the fire of the right kind of ambition, and a set purpose in voice and eye, the sunset glow bringing out form and features like unto those of a young lord; and--down in the hedge, a poor, tangled, ill-kept little maid, gazing upon him even as she would have gazed upon a Prince in a Fairy story.

Then the poor child flushed and trembled. The idea of having dared to think of young Lionel Grandison, son of Sir Percival and Lady Gabrielle Grandison, as belonging in the leastest degree to her, made her tingle with a kind of awe.

She was very quiet for a few moments after that.

Then, all at once, something woke up in Sally. Something that had never awakened before. It was a sudden thought and knowledge of what she was herself.

"Only just a know-nothing!" she whispered, "a poor little old know-nothing!" and she hung her head. "Can't read! Can't write! Can't spell! Can't anything but just scrub and dub. Oh, he wouldn't speak to me, he wouldn't look at me! How sick my heart feels, and how tired I am!"

Then something else woke up in Sally. Something stirred in her heart for the first time. She tugged at her wretched little dress as she repeated:

THE FAIRY PRINCE

Very proud, very rich, very aristocratic was Sir Percival Grandison. Very proud and handsome was the Lady Gabrielle Grandison, who came of the ancient house of Earlscourt, England. Proud and well educated was Lucretia, only daughter of Sir Percival and Lady Gabrielle. Rich, haughty, and pretty was Rosamond Earlscourt, niece of Lady Grandison, and a kind of ward, for Rosamond had no parents, and spent much time at Ingleside.

Last, but not least, first, in fact, in our story, comes Lionel, only and deeply beloved son of the Grandison household.

Lionel, no doubt, like the rest of the family, was proud of his good lineage. He had deep blue eyes, fair hair, a slightly beaky nose, and curved mouth, which gave his features a look of great pride. He walked, too, with the air of a prince, bravely flinging his young crest to the soft airs and stanch patriotism of his native Southern colony.

Yet no one called Lionel proud. If anything went wrong at "the quarters," where were the cabins of the black servants, the boys and girls were beginning to go with their troubles to "Mars' Lion" sooner than to "ole Mars" or "Mistis."

They were all boys and girls, those black people, until they were past fifty; then they were generally called "mammy," "aunt," or "uncle."

And there was not a rood of ground, a horse, colored person, gate or wall, but was an attraction to Maid Sally, so long as it belonged to Ingleside.

And were it but said that Master Lionel was coming along, she would manage to lurk near the corner, or catch a glimpse from the window of Sir Percival's grand young son.

It was June, hot, balmy, fragrant June. And only of late had Sally found the place in the hedge where she could venture through. But now it would indeed have been a strong power that could have kept her long away from the charmed spot.

It mattered nothing that before the early supper she must build up the smart wood fire, get down the great spider, and stew herself along with the sizzling rashers, or mix the ash-cake or corn pone; oh, no matter for anything that must be done before supper, because now, as soon as it was over, off she could run to her enchanted ground!

But on the night when ended the Fairy tale we have seen that a new Sally began springing into life. Ah, it was true, the child could scarcely read, could neither write nor spell, and all at once--Sally cared!

And if it were strange, it yet were true, that she grew dignified, and correct in manner and speech, as she asked herself new, hard questions. She had come, oh, very slowly and very soberly, back through Shady Path and Lover's Lane, to the piece of woods lying to the left of Slipside Row.

Pretty soon Mistress Cory Ann's sharp voice would call her in, and order her to bed in the close attic. Sitting on the warm, mossy turf, under the great pine-trees, she talked aloud in quaint, old-fashioned speech:

"Now, what, prithee, Sally, are we to do? Neither reading, writing, or spelling are properly known to Sally Dukeen, and what are the words that have just come to my ears?"

Then up glowed the picture again: the manly figure on the wall, the glory of the setting sun lighting up the proud young face, the clothes he wore, his lace-shadowed hands, the shining ring on his finger. All the scene flamed up before her keen imagination as the child glanced down at her brown little hands, her scanty dress, and her rough, bare feet.

And the child-sorrow that is very hard to bear, burst forth in a deep, choking sound, as slipping to the ground, face down, Sally cried out:

"O Fairy Prince! Fairy Prince! You stand so high, so high above my place on the ground. You are in the sun at the top of the garden wall. I am under the hedge in the shadow, out of sight. Thou art the eagle, Fairy Prince, and I the brush bird. You live at Ingleside, I at Slipside Row. You have a proud, fine name. I am only poor Sally Dukeen. What can I do? What can I do?"

She shook all over with the sobs that came hard and fast.

After a time the little maid lay so still that she did not hear Mistress Cory Ann calling her to come into the house. But as there was no reply, and it was getting late, Mistress Brace thought that Sally had gone to bed already, and so she troubled her head no more about her. She bolted the loose front door, put out the dim candles, and was soon asleep.

And Sally was sound asleep, too. Flat on her face, lying on the soft, dry moss, she slept as sweetly under the quiet stars as though she had been on her small husk mattress. The gentle winds stirred the red gold of her curly hair, and cooled her heated cheeks. She might have slept on until morning had it not been that an owl, perched high in one of the pine-trees, hooted in loud, solemn tones, "Too-whit? too-hoo! Too-whit? Too-hoo!"

Then Sally opened her eyes, raised her head, and looked around. She remembered where she was, but was not the least afraid. Many a time, in midsummer's heat, had she thrown an old shawl about her, and slept sweetly under the pines the whole night through.

But Sally did not go right to sleep again. Instead of that she sat up against a tree, and began talking aloud to herself.

"Now, what am I to do? My Fairy Prince said that any one could get learning who was bound to find out a way."

Sally again looked around, as she said, "My Fairy Prince," as if afraid to have even the winds hear her.

"I care not," she said, "I will call him my Fairy Prince. No one can hear, and it doth surely help me in a way. It is unseemly, I dare say, but I must, I must, and will! But, however am I to get learning? Could I only go to a dame school, but, chicks and crows! as well might I seek to fly to the moon."

She giggled in a healthy, childish way, sure sign that she was feeling better, and that her sweet nature was coming up to her help.

All at once she drew herself up, held high her head, breathed hard a few times, then said, slowly:

"I am a maid that is determined to get learning,--and I will!"

At that she lay down again, and slept until the sun was high. Then up she jumped, crept into the kitchen, and began setting the table while Mistress Brace was down at the spring getting fresh water.

All the hot morning Sally was busy at her scrubbing and cleaning, and it must be told that not as happy or as sure did she feel as in the morning, because the hot sun and the wood fire had taken down her spirits.

And so, as she rested for a little in the afternoon, on the steps she had scrubbed in the morning, it in truth much cheered her to see Mammy Leezer come trundling along, and to know she would hear the dulcet voice. Her face lighted up, but not before Mammy had seen the sober, longing look she had worn a moment before.

"What a-matter, honey?" The question was in the caressing voice of the old Mammy.

"I was wishing," said Sally.

"What for?"

"For things I must wait long before getting."

"And you want 'em bad, honey?"

"Oh, dreadfully."

Mammy shook like a jelly-bag. "You look a-here," she said, "you jus' look a-here; jus' as shore as a lil young one have a clef in de middle ob her chin way down, she a-goin' fo' to get what she want'n. You mind now! I neber seen a lil pick'ninny, white or brack, have a split long de lower story ob her chin, but firs' or last she's gett'n' her own way. Doan't yo' fret now, but 'member what I tole you, and you's all right. And yo' lil chin is most split'n' in half. Lorr! it a mercy it hole togedder so long!"

Mammy went rolling along, still shaking with laughter, while away ran Sally for a peep into her fragment of a mirror.

She felt happy again when it came time to put the leaf up against the wall, get down the plates from the old dresser, mix the ash-cakes for supper, and set the rashers to sizzling.

THE NEW SALLY

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