A TRIUMPHAL ARCH
The blue clad figure on horseback came on so slowly that Roxy had
reached the road long before the horseman was near enough for her to be
sure that it was really her long expected father; and when he drew rein
and called, “Roxy!” and smiled down at her the little girl, looking up
at the thin worn face, cried out: “Oh, Father! You’re sick,” and Captain
Delfield nodded. “Pretty well used up, my dear. Run back to the house
and tell your mother I’m coming,” and he turned his horse into the lane
leading to the house while Roxy raced across the slope and ran into the
house calling: “Mother! Mother! Mother!” until Mrs. Delfield and Grandma
Miller both came hurrying to know what had happened.
“Father has come! Father is here!” said the little girl, rushing through
the house to the yard where Jacob was tenderly helping Captain Delfield
from the tired horse.
Roxy’s father was not only worn out by his long journey on horseback; he
had not yet recovered from a wound received some weeks earlier on the
slopes of Malvern where the Union forces had repulsed the Confederates
and driven Lee’s army toward Richmond.
For the week after his arrival Captain Delfield was in bed, and Roxy
spent a part of each day in the big front chamber where her father’s bed
was drawn near the windows so that he could look off across the valley
to the distant hills.
He wanted to hear all that she could tell him about her friend Polly and
the little Hinham girls, and when she told of her discovery of the
Yankee soldier who had escaped from Richmond prison he listened eagerly
and smiled over Roxy’s description of Dulcie’s discovery that her food
had been taken.
“Helping that boy will help win the war, Roxy; and you helped the Yankee
Army without knowing it,” he said.
“But, Father, if it had been a Confederate boy I would have taken him
food just the same,” Roxy responded, half fearing that her father,
wounded by a Confederate bullet, might not agree with her in this; but
Captain Delfield answered approvingly:
“Of course, dear child. The Confederate soldiers are a worthy foe. Of
course you would have helped any starving man.”
Roxy searched the fields for wild flowers for her father’s room; she
brought up her dolls to keep him company, and one day, to Dulcie’s
horror, Roxy was discovered bringing the squawking bantams through the
kitchen, and in spite of all Dulcie’s exclamations and warnings the
little girl carried the surprised fowl up to her father’s chamber and
set the covered basket down near his bed.
“What have you named them?” he asked, leaning over to admire their
shining feathers and bright eyes; and Roxy confessed that she had not
thought of naming them.
“Why not call them Napoleon and Josephine?” he suggested. “You see,
Napoleon was small but he was as brave and noisy as this small bantam;
and Josephine was beautiful, and so is Madame Bantam!”
Roxy laughed happily. Now that her father could sit up the greater part
of each day and was always ready to tell her stories, and to hear
whatever she had to say, Roxy felt that all was well; and to have him
give the bantams such fine names made her once more eager for a visit
from Polly that she might tell her friend all that had happened in the
week since her father’s arrival; for Polly no longer came every day. She
was keeping her promise to her father, and worked in the garden and in
the house, and the two girls’ signals each morning was all they knew of
each other.
Roxy was looking forward to the day when her father would come down to
the porch; her mother said they would have a celebration on that day,
and Roxy signalled for Polly to come over, and greatly to her delight
Polly’s answering signal was “yes,” and Roxy hastened to the kitchen to
ask a special favor of Dulcie.
“Dulcie, I expect my father will come downstairs to-morrow,” she began.
“Now, ain’ dat good news, Missy!” exclaimed Dulcie. “I reckons I’d
better hab fried chicken, an’ new peas, an’ co’n fritters”—and with her
hands on her hips and her eyes fixed far above Roxy’s head Dulcie named
over a list of tempting dishes, to which Roxy listened a little
impatiently and before she had finished interrupted by exclaiming:
“Yes! Yes, Dulcie! And plum tarts! I specially want plum tarts.”
“Does yo’ so, Missy Roxy? Den I’ll hev ter make de pastry ter-day.
Pastry dat ain’ set de day ’fore it’s e’t ain’ wuth nothin’!” and Dulcie
shook her head smilingly as she watched the little girl hurry off to the
garden to gather the tall yellow lilies that blossomed near the stone
wall.
Roxy carried these to her father’s room and found him sitting near the
window.
“Polly’s coming to-morrow, and Dulcie’s going to have the best dinner,
Father!” she exclaimed. “And you can try my swing!”
“That is what I mean to do,” Captain Delfield said, and in a few moments
Roxy bade him good-bye and ran downstairs for she was planning that her
father’s first day downstairs should be a real celebration, and she was
eager to talk it over with Grandma Miller, who listened approvingly.
“Grandma, I have a plan!” she said, following Mrs. Miller to the dairy,
a square building of stone near the house. The dairy was always cool,
even on these hot August days. Its floor was of stone, and there was a
bubbling spring of cool water in one corner.
There were shelves on two sides of the dairy holding big blue and yellow
bowls and shining tins filled with milk. There were two churns, that
stood near the spring, and a broad stone shelf where Grandma worked the
golden butter and stamped the squares with a beautiful rose.
Roxy always liked to visit the dairy, and to help Grandma make butter;
but to-day as she sat down on the small three-legged stool in one corner
of the room and watched her grandmother skimming the heavy yellow cream
from the pans of milk her thoughts were not of butter.
“Grandma! I want to make an arch, a triumphal arch, for my father! I
read about it in a story about George Washington. When heroes come back
from war people put up triumphal arches, and my father is a hero,”
declared Roxy.
“Why, I think that is a very good idea,” replied Grandmother, “and where
do you want the arch?”
“In front of the porch,” replied Roxy, smiling happily that Grandma had
so quickly agreed to her plan. “And I want to have it all green leaves,
laurel and hazel branches, with yellow lilies mixed in; and I want Polly
to sing when Father comes out on the porch!”
Grandma nodded approvingly and smiled at Roxy. “Your father will think
he has won the war,” she said, “and I am glad you thought of so good a
plan. You can ask Jacob to help you to-morrow morning, and you had best
be up early so that the arch will be ready when your father comes down.”
“Oh, yes, Grandma, I will be up at daylight,” Roxy promised, and now
started off to the brook to get branches of laurel for the arch. She was
busy all the afternoon bringing armfuls of the shining green laurel, and
graceful branches of hazel, and when she bade her father good-night she
was more tired than she had been since the day of her walk to visit the
Hinhams.
But she awoke very early. No one else in the house was astir, and when
Roxy entered the kitchen Dulcie was just crossing the yard from her
cabin.
“Gwine ter be a drea’ful hot day,” Dulcie declared. “Yo’ sit up ter dis
lille roun’ table clus ter de winder, Missy Roxy, an’ I’ll spread out
somet’ing fer yo’ ter eat. ’Twill be nigh an hour ’fore break’us!” And
Dulcie drew a small table to an open window, covered it with a white
cloth and brought a blue pitcher filled with milk, a blue bowl, and a
plate of corn bread.
“Now, jes’ he’p yo’se’f, honey,” she said. “Jacob’ll be ready time yo’
finished.”
Roxy was quite ready to obey, and as she ate the excellent corn bread
and drank the cool milk she looked out of the window toward where the
tall yellow lilies blossomed, and thought happily of her father’s
surprise when he saw the “triumphal” arch.
“Dulcie, I am going to ask Polly to sing,” she said, when she was ready
to leave the kitchen.
Dulcie chuckled and smiled, as she usually did at whatever Roxy might
say.
“W’y don’ yo’ hab Jacob an’ de odder niggers sing? Dey know sum right
fine songs. I reckon yo’ pa be right pleased, Missy Roxy, ter hear ’em!”
she said.
The little girl clapped her hands in delight.
“That will be splendid, Dulcie! Splendid!” she exclaimed. “Oh! It’s
really going to be a celebration.”
“Yo’ jes’ speak to yo’ grandma ’bout it!” said the well-pleased Dulcie.
“Grandma always says ‘yes,’” declared Roxy happily, and started off to
tell Jacob just where to fix the tall willow saplings that he had cut as
a frame for Roxy’s arch.
She selected a place half-way between the porch and the big butternut
tree, and Jacob drove the saplings firmly into the ground, and drew
their tops together in a graceful arch. He brought a step-ladder for
Roxy to stand on and a ball of twine, and showed her how to fasten the
branches of laurel and hazel leaves about the arched poles; and Roxy was
busily at work when Polly, riding the little brown horse, trotted into
the yard.
Polly was eager to help, and gathered an armful of the yellow lilies and
helped Roxy put them in place at the top of the arch, where they glowed
among the glossy laurel leaves, and, as Dulcie admiringly declared,
“Look jes’ like stars.”
While the girls worked Roxy described her plan for her father’s
pleasure, and Polly laughingly consented to sing whatever Roxy wanted
her to sing, and thought Dulcie’s idea of having the negroes sing would
be sure to please Captain Delfield, as indeed it did, when a few hours
later he stepped out on the porch and saw the beautiful arch, and Roxy
announced:
“Father! That’s your triumphal arch! And Polly’s going to sing,” and he
saw a tall girl in a tan-colored linen dress with shining red hair
standing near the flowery arch, who with a smiling greeting made him a
low curtsy and sang:
“Hail to the Chief, who in triumph advances!
Honored and blessed be the ever-green pine!
Long may the tree, in his banner that glances,
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line!”
And then with another curtsy, Polly came up to stand beside Roxy on the
upper step, and before Captain Delfield could thank her for the song,
Jacob, followed by the other negro servants, came around the corner of
the house, and with smiling greetings to the Captain began singing:
“Nebber yo’ fear—
W’en de corn am growin’,
Nebber yo’ fear
W’en de flowers am’ blowin’.
Nebber yo’ fear de dreadful soun’
Risin’, risin’ out de groun’
Ob armies marchin’, marchin’ roun’.”
As the men sang they swayed back and forth in time to the tune, and
finally disappeared behind the house in a solemn march as the song
ended.
But Roxy ran after them and called them back and Captain Delfield
thanked them heartily.
Then Roxy led her father under the arch to the swing, where he admired
the wide seat around the tree, and declared that General McClellan
himself could not have had a finer welcome.
It proved a day that the little group would long remember; not alone on
account of Roxy’s celebration for her father, but because it was the
29th of August, 1862, the day when General Pope found himself facing
Stonewall Jackson, the great Confederate general, on the battlefield of
Bull Run. A battle where the Union forces were driven from the field
with great loss, and were pursued by Lee’s army until, at Chantilly, Lee
gave up the pursuit, and the broken battalions of the Union Army
struggled back to Washington.
It was Roland Hinham who brought this news, several days later. Captain
Delfield and Roxy were on the broad seat under the butternut when Roxy
exclaimed: “Here comes Roland Hinham on horseback!”
“What is he riding like that for? His horse is coming at a gallop,” said
Captain Delfield, rising to his feet and watching Roland as the boy
urged his horse up the slope.
The tired horse came to a standstill in the yard and Roland swung
himself from the saddle and ran toward Captain Delfield and hurriedly
told him the news of the battle of Bull Run. “And that isn’t all, sir,”
continued the excited boy. “General Lee’s troops are marching into
Maryland.”