POLLY’S NEWS
A few days after the birthday party one of the negro servants brought a
stout rope from the storehouse and fixed a swing from the branch of the
big butternut tree that grew near the house. A smooth board for a seat
was notched and fitted to the rope, and Grandma Miller came out to give
Roxy the first swing.
As Roxy found herself flying through the air so that her feet touched
the leaves of the tree’s lofty branches she laughed with delight; and as
the swing slowed down and only moved evenly back and forth she called:
“Grandma, I can see way down to the river. Grandma, where does the river
come from?”
“It rises in Pennsylvania, and empties into the Potomac just below
Sharpsburg,” replied Mrs. Miller, who had seated herself at the foot of
the big tree and now looked off toward the peaceful Antietam, the slopes
of South Mountain, and the fields of growing wheat. Grandma Miller knew
many stories of this valley, and had told Roxy of the days of the French
and Indian War when the settlers along the Antietam were raided by the
Indian allies of the French until they fled to Fredericktown for
protection, and for years the fertile fields were deserted.
Braddock’s army had passed through this valley; and, before the American
Revolution, settlers returned to their homes, and farms again prospered,
and people lived in safety. But Grandma Miller was not thinking of those
far-off wars; for, as the summer of 1862 advanced, the people of
Maryland knew that the national capital was in danger, that at any time
Southern troops might sweep into Maryland; and as Mrs. Miller looked
toward South Mountain she wondered how long this safety and peace would
continue, and where Roxy’s father was on that August morning.
She said nothing to Roxy of these matters, but the little girl knew how
anxiously her mother awaited news from her soldier father, and now as
she noticed how grave her grandma’s face was as she looked off across
the fields Roxy became sure that Grandma Miller was thinking of the war,
and of her father, and she said softly:
“Grandma, don’t you s’pose my father is ever coming to see us?” and she
let the swing come nearly to a standstill.
“I hope so, Roxy! But we cannot get news of him. The last we heard was
that his regiment was with General Pope. But that was weeks ago. It is
August now, and we hear only rumors. It may be that some day your father
will come riding over the bridge and tell us all his adventures.”
“I wish he would come soon,” said Roxy soberly, and she resolved to
watch the bridge so that she might be the first one to see her father.
“I believe it would be a good plan to have a seat built around this
tree,” said Grandma Miller, as she started to return to the house. “It
is cooler here than on the porch, and it would be a good place for you
to bring your dolls for tea-parties.”
“Yes, indeed,” replied Roxy, “and I could have my ‘circus’ animals march
right around the tree. Perhaps I could have a doll’s party, and ask the
little Hinham girls to bring all their dolls!”
“You could indeed, my dear, and I will have Jacob make the seat this
very day. We will have a good wide seat,” said Grandma, and with a
smiling nod she went toward the house.
Roxy, looking after her, told herself that Grandma Miller was exactly
the kind of a grandmother that every little girl ought to have.
“She doesn’t put things off until next year; she has them done right
away,” Roxy thought approvingly.
The shining gold ring on her forefinger reminded her again of Grandma’s
warning that it was usually “silly to be angry,” and Roxy smiled, for
only yesterday the little ring had prevented her from again being vexed
at Polly.
“I’m never going to quarrel with Polly; she never quarrels back,” she
said aloud.
“That’s because she is fourteen years old,” came the laughing response,
and the surprised Roxy nearly fell from the swing when she found Polly
standing close beside her.
“Oh, Polly! I am going to be just like you when I am fourteen!” declared
Roxy, but Polly shook her head.
“You won’t have red hair,” she responded; “but what a fine swing!” and
she looked at the long stout ropes, and then off across the quiet
valley, and Roxy noticed that her friend’s face was very sober.
“What’s the matter, Polly?” she asked.
“Oh, Roxy! My father has started to join McClellan’s army, and Mr.
Greaves has gone with him and Mr. Hinham. They went early this morning.
There is news that the Confederate soldiers under General Jackson are
advancing against General Pope’s army, and——”
But before Polly could say another word Roxy was out of the swing
exclaiming:
“My father is with General Pope! Oh, Polly!”
Polly’s arm was about Roxy’s shoulders and for a moment the little
Yankee girl and the Maryland girl stood looking into each other’s eyes.
“Yes, Roxy. But isn’t it splendid that our fathers are both fighting in
the Union Army?” said Polly. “I came over to tell you about it.”
The two girls turned silently toward the house, and Roxy’s thoughts were
no longer about a doll’s party under the big tree; she could think only
of her soldier father.
“It’s no use for me to watch the bridge now, is it, Polly? I don’t
suppose my father will come for weeks and weeks!” she said mournfully.
“Perhaps he will come any day,” declared Polly. “Anyway you had better
watch.”
Neither Mrs. Miller nor Mrs. Delfield seemed surprised by Polly’s news.
In fact on the day of the surprise party Mr. Greaves had told them that
a number of Antietam men were preparing to start for Alexandria where
McClellan’s forces were encamped; and they now encouraged Polly to
believe that her father and his friends would not be in immediate
danger.
Polly could not stay long.
“Now Father is gone I’ll have to work more steadily,” she said gravely.
“I am to help in the garden and look after the chickens, so I can’t come
over very often.”
Roxy looked so mournful at this that Polly promptly added: “But we can
signal to each other every morning, Roxy; so if I have time we can meet
at the big sycamore,” and at this Roxy’s face brightened.
“Couldn’t I come over and help you, Polly?” she asked hopefully.
But Mrs. Miller declared that Roxy could not be spared.
“We must finish the quilt, and start a box of things for the soldiers
and you can help a great deal,” she said; and that afternoon the
quilting-frame was again set up in the dining-room, and Roxy, seated
beside Grandma Miller, did her best to set every stitch evenly, and was
well pleased when her mother praised her work, saying that Roxy could
quilt as well as her own mother.
While Roxy had been helping on the quilt Jacob had been busy making the
wide seat around the butternut tree, and when the little girl came out
on the porch in the late afternoon he called to her to come and see it.
Jacob was Dulcie’s husband, a good-natured negro who had charge of the
farm work, and who could do many useful things; and when Roxy ran toward
the tree he pointed to the wide seat he had just finished and said
proudly:
“Dar! Dat seat am as solid as dis earth. Dat am a fine seat, Missy.”
“Yes, indeed, Jacob! And I am going to bring my circus animals out and
have them march around the tree,” said Roxy. “Wait a minute, Jacob, and
I’ll fetch them.”
“I should admire ter see dat circus, an’ so’d all de niggers!” responded
the man eagerly. “If yo’ ain’ no objection, Missy, I’d like ter hab
Dulcie an’ May-Rose an’ de men wot helps me, step up here an’ see yo’
animals, an’ hear yo’ tell ’bout ’em?” and Jacob looked pleadingly
toward Roxy.
“Yes, Jacob! Ask them all to come,” replied Roxy, running toward the
house, while Jacob hurried off toward the cabins where the negroes lived
to tell them of the entertainment in store for them.
Roxy carried the boxes containing the paper animals to the wide seat and
had them all arranged in a procession when she heard the chatter of the
negroes as they came toward the tree.
Jacob was a little in advance of the others; and although Dulcie
announced that by rights she ought to have charge of “dis gatherin’,”
Jacob paid no attention to her remarks, and told each one of the
servants where they were to stand.
“We’s all ready, Missy,” he announced, smiling delightedly as his glance
rested on the “circus.”
Roxy smiled in response, as she stood by the seat holding the same
hazel-rod that she had used on the day of the party.
“We will begin with the elephants,” she said, “and as I go around the
tree please follow me.”
“Yas, yas, indeed, Missy Roxy,” came the reply from the delighted
negroes, and Roxy pointed out elephants, camels and zebras, and told
briefly where such animals lived, and something of their habits that she
had learned from the big red-covered book in Grandma’s book-closet.
There were many exclamations of wonder and surprise, and, when Roxy
finished, a chorus of thanks, and Grandma Miller and Roxy’s mother came
down from the porch and told Dulcie to serve everyone with an extra good
supper that night. “And remember it is a treat from Miss Roxy,” she
added smilingly; and Roxy again thought that her grandmother was a
pattern for all grandmothers to follow, as the well-pleased negroes
followed Dulcie toward the kitchen.
“It was fun to show them the circus,” Roxy declared, her eyes shining
with delight, as her mother helped her gather up the animals and put
them in the boxes. “And I don’t see why slaves are not as happy as other
people,” she added thoughtfully. “I’m sure Jacob and Dulcie are happy.”
“They are not slaves, my dear. Your grandfather gave all his negroes
their freedom, and that is what many Southern people have done and many
more were planning to do so before this war began,” replied Grandma
Miller.
“When the war is over every negro will be free, won’t they, Grandma?”
questioned Roxy, as they all walked up the slope.
“If the Union Army conquers the Confederates there will be no more
slavery in America,” Mrs. Miller replied gravely.
Roxy set her boxes on the porch steps, and stood looking off toward the
bridge, remembering that Polly had told her that, after all, her father
might secure leave of absence and appear at any time.
It had been a happy day, even if Polly’s news had been discouraging, she
thought, as her glance rested on the glimpse of quiet river, the stretch
of gray road, and the distant bridge.
And as she looked Roxy’s heart began to beat more quickly, for she could
see a figure on horseback coming across the bridge; as it drew near she
saw that the rider’s coat was blue.
“It’s Father! It’s Father!” she exclaimed, and raced down the slope to
the opening in the wall that led to the highway.