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Ebook has 2198 lines and 71950 words, and 44 pages

Mamma's door was shut. Mrs. Whitcomb was wise enough to keep guard over that. There was a little fire in the Franklin stove, and before it sat Mrs. Perkins, though everybody called her Aunt Letty. Her feet were on the fender, her brown stuff dress turned up over her knees, her black alpaca skirt not quite so high, and a faded quilted petticoat taking the heat of the fire. She always wore substantial gray yarn stockings in the winter, and lead-colored cotton in summer, except on state occasions. Her bonnet was always a little awry, and the parting of her hair invariably crooked. I'm sure I don't know what she did, except to attend to other people's affairs.

Mrs. Downs was beside her, a helpless-looking little fat woman, who, Fan declared, looked like a feather pillow with a checked apron tied around it. She was always out of breath, had always just left her work, and was never going to stay more than a moment.

Papa smiled, at the absurd transition, I suppose. Fan said Aunt Letty had only one resemblance to a dictionary--she changed her subjects without any warning.

"Would Keren-happuch do?" papa asked, with a droll twinkle in his eye.

"O, now, Mr. Endicott!"

"It's a nice little thing," put in Mrs. Downs. "Favors its mar I think."

"Come and see it, Rose.--May we, Mrs. Whitcomb?"

"O, yes, indeed," with her sweet smile.

Papa glanced at her with a tender smile, then sighed. Perhaps he was thinking of the long way the little feet would have to travel. It is a great journey, after all, from the City of Destruction to the New Jerusalem. Something in the baby-face brought to mind Christiana and the children.

"Great pity 'tisn't a boy," persisted Aunt Letty.

"O, I don't know about that. They are so handy to take one another's clothes," said papa, humorously.

"To be sure. But yours could be cut over," returned the literal woman.

"I am afraid that I shall always need mine to the last thread. I have lost the trick of outgrowing them. O, have you heard that Mrs. Bowers's sister has come from the west? Arrived last evening."

"Land sakes alive! Why, I guess I'll run right over. Sally and me was thick as peas in our young days. And her husband's been a what you call it out there, senate, or constitution, or something."

"Member of the legislature," corrected father, quietly.

She brushed down her skirts, put her knitting in her satchel, jerked her shawl up, and pinned it, and settled her old black bonnet more askew than ever. Mrs. Whitcomb kindly pulled it straight for her.

"Thank'ee. If you want any help, Mrs. Whitcomb, send right straight over. Ministers are always the chosen of the Lord, and I feel as if one ought to come at their call."

"I am much obliged," returned Mrs. Whitcomb, in her quiet, lady-like way.

Mrs. Downs took her departure at the same moment. There was a great bustle, and talking; but father finally succeeded in getting them to the porch. When Aunt Letty was safely off the steps, she turned and said,--

"I'm glad you are so well satisfied, Mr. Endicott. It's a sure sign of grace to take thankfully what the Lord sends."

Mrs. Whitcomb smiled and said, in her cool, silvery voice,--

"It takes a great deal of powder and shot to kill a man in battle, and it takes a great deal of preaching to save a soul."

"Yes. I get almost discouraged when I find how strong the old Adam is in human souls."

I looked at papa rather reproachfully; but just then he opened the door of mamma's room, and called me thither.

Mamma was very sweet and lovely. She kissed me many times, and hoped I would prove a trusty house-keeper, and see that papa had everything he needed, especially to notice that his cuffs and handkerchiefs were clean, and that he was in nice order on Sunday.

"And--did I like the baby?" She asked it almost bashfully.

"It is just as sweet as it can be. I only wish it was large enough to hold and to carry about."

"Thank you, dear."

Years afterwards I knew what that meant.

I went out to the kitchen to see about the dinner. We never had regular servants like other people. It was the lame, and the halt, and the blind, and the ignorant, metaphorically speaking. Papa brought them home and mamma took pity on them. Now it was Becky Sill, a great, overgrown girl of sixteen, whose intemperate father had just died in the poorhouse, where the three younger children--boys--were waiting for a chance to be put out to the farmers.

"Look at this 'ere floor, Miss Rose! I've scrubbed it white as snow. And I've been a peelin' of pertaters."

"O, law, you're just like your mother. Some people are born ladies and have fine ways. I wasn't."

"You have been very industrious," I returned, cheerfully; and then I went at the dinner.

I had been exercised on the subject all day, and I wanted to dispose of it before I slept.

"Why, my dear! no;" with a sweet gravity.

"But, papa,"--and I stumbled a little,--"it isn't likely that--that--we shall all--get married--"

I could not proceed any farther, and hid my face on his shoulder.

"Married! What ever put such an absurd idea into your head, Rosalind? A parcel of children--married!"

I knew papa was displeased, or he would never have called me Rosalind.

"O, dear papa, don't be angry!" I cried. "I was not thinking of being married, I'm sure. I don't believe any one will ever like me very much, because my hair is red, and I may be fat as Mrs. Downs. And if I should be an old maid,--and I know I shall,--I want you to love me a little; and if I'm queer and fussy, and all that, you must be patient with me. I will try to do my best always."

"My little girl, I want us to have a good many years of happiness together," he said, with solemn tenderness. "Put all these things out of your head, and love your mother and me, and do your duty in that state of life to which it shall please God to call you. I want you to be like Martin Luther's bird, who sat on the tree and sang, and let God think for him. And now, run to bed, for I wish to finish this sermon while I am in the humor."

It was a bright June morning. The windows were all open; the birds were singing, and the air was sweet with out-of-door smells. Waving grasses, hosts of flowers, rose and honeysuckle out on the porch in the very height of riotous living, each trying to outbloom the other.

It was nearly eight o'clock. Lemmy Collins came up with the mail. There had been a shower the evening before, and none of us had gone for it.

"Ah!" exclaimed papa, "we are bountifully supplied this morning. One for Nelly, two for mamma, and two for me."

"O, what elegant writing!" said Nell, leaning over to look at papa's.

"Yes;" slowly. "I cannot think;" and papa fell into a brown study.

"Why don't you open it?" asked bright-eyed Daisy; "then you won't have to think."

"To be sure, little wisdom!" and papa smiled. "I will look over this thin one first, though."

That was only an invitation to a meeting of the clergy. We were all watching to see him open the letter par excellence. He took out his penknife and cut round the seal, which he handed to Tim.

"W--h--y!" lengthening the word out indefinitely. "From Stephen Duncan!" Then he read on in thoughtful silence, now and then knitting his brows.

Mamma's letters were from an aunt and a cousin, with some kindly messages for us all.

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