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SPINNING-WHEEL
STORIES.
BY
LOUISA M. ALCOTT,
AUTHOR OF "LITTLE WOMEN," "AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL," "LITTLE MEN,"
"EIGHT COUSINS," "ROSE IN BLOOM," "UNDER THE LILACS,"
"JACK AND JILL," "HOSPITAL SKETCHES," "WORK, A
STORY OF EXPERIENCE," "MOODS, A NOVEL,"
"PROVERB STORIES," "SILVER PITCHERS,"
"AUNT JO'S SCRAP-BAG."
BOSTON:
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY,
1902.
_Copyright, 1884,_
BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.
University Press:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
GRANDMA'S STORY 1
TABBY'S TABLE-CLOTH 25
ELI'S EDUCATION 47
ONAWANDAH 71
LITTLE THINGS 91
THE BANNER OF BEAUMANOIR 115
JERSEYS; OR, THE GIRL'S GHOST 137
THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN 163
DAISY'S JEWEL-BOX, AND HOW SHE FILLED IT 187
CORNY'S CATAMOUNT 209
THE COOKING-CLASS 233
THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE 255
[Illustration]
Grandma's Story
"It is too bad to have our jolly vacation spoiled by this provoking
storm. Didn't mind it yesterday, because we could eat all the time; but
here we are cooped up for a week, perhaps, and I'd like to know what we
are to do," growled Geoff, as he stood at the window looking gloomily at
the bleak scene without. It certainly was discouraging; for the north
wind howled, the air was dark with falling snow, and drifts were rising
over fences, roads, and fields, as if to barricade the Christmas party
in the great country house.
"We can bear it pleasantly, since it can't be helped," said gentle
sister Mary, with a kind hand on his shoulder, and a face full of
sympathy for his disappointment. "I'm sorry for the coasting, skating,
and sleighing frolics we have lost; but if we must be shut up, I'm sure
we couldn't have a pleasanter prison or a kinder jailer. Don't let
grandma hear us complain, for she has made great exertions to have our
visit a merry one, and it will trouble her if we are not gay and
contented."
"That's easy for a parcel of girls, who only want to mull over the fire,
and chatter, and drink tea; but it's rough on us fellows, who come for
the outside fun. House is well enough; but when you've seen it once,
there's an end. Eating is jolly, but you can't stuff forever. We might
dig, or snowball, if it didn't blow a gale. Never saw such a beast of a
storm!"--and Geoff flattened his nose against the window-pane and
scowled at the elements.
A laugh made him turn around, and forget his woes to stare at the quaint
little figure that stood curtseying in the door-way of the keeping-room,
where a dozen young people were penned while the maids cleared up the
remains of yesterday's feast in the kitchen, the mothers were busy with
the babies upstairs, and the fathers read papers in the best parlor; for
this was a family gathering under the roof of the old homestead.
A rosy, dark-eyed face looked out from the faded green calash, a gayly
flowered gown was looped up over a blue quilted petticoat, and a red
camlet cloak hung down behind. A big reticule and a funny umbrella were
held in either hand, and red hose and very high-heeled, pointed shoes
covered a trim pair of feet.
"God bless you, merry gentlemen!
May nothing you dismay;
Here's your ancient granny come
To call, this Christmas day,"
sang Minnie, the lively member of the flock, as she bobbed little
curtseys and smiled so infectiously that even cross Geoff cheered up.
"Where did you get that rigging?" "Isn't it becoming?" "What queer
stuff!" "Did grandma ever look so, I wonder?"
These and many other questions rained upon the wearer of the old
costume, and she answered them as fast as she could.
"I went rummaging up garret for something to read, and found two chests
of old duds. Thought I'd dress up and see how you liked me. Grandma said
I might, and told me I looked like her when she was young. She was a
beauty, you know; so I feel as proud as a peacock." And Min danced away
to stand before the portrait of a blooming girl in a short-waisted,
white-satin gown and a pearl necklace, which hung opposite the companion
portrait of an officer in an old-fashioned uniform.
"So you do. Wonder if I should look like grandpa if I got into his old
toggery!" said Geoff, looking up at the handsome man with the queue and
the high coat-collar.
"Go and try; the uniform is in the chest, and not much moth-eaten. Let's
have a jolly rummage, and see what we can find. _We_ didn't eat
ourselves sick, so we will amuse these lazy invalids;" and Min glanced
pityingly at several cousins who lay about on sofas or in easy chairs,
pretending to read, but evidently suffering from too great devotion to
the bountiful dinner and evening feast of yesterday.
Away went Min and Lotty, Geoff and Walt, glad of anything to beguile the
stormy afternoon. Grandma smiled as she heard the tramp of feet
overhead, the peals of laughter, and the bang of chest-lids, well
knowing that a scene of dire confusion awaited her when the noisy frolic
was done, but thankful for the stores of ancient finery which would keep
the restless children happy for a day.
It was truly a noble garret, for it extended the whole length of the
great square house, with windows at either end, and divided in the
middle by a solid chimney. All around stood rows of chests, dilapidated
furniture, and wardrobes full of old relics, while the walls were hung
with many things for which modern tongues can find no names. In one
corner was a book-case full of musty books and papers; in another,
kitchen utensils and rusty weapons; the third was devoted to quilts hung
on lines, and in the fourth stood a loom with a spinning-wheel beside
it, both seemingly well cared for, as the dust lay lightly on them, and
flax was still upon the distaff.
A glorious rummage followed the irruption of the Goths and Vandals into
this quiet spot, and soon Geoff quite forgot the storm as he pranced
about in the buff-and-blue coat, with a cocked hat on his head, and
grandfather's sword at his side. Lotty arrayed herself in a pumpkin hood
and quilted cloak for warmth, while Walt, the book-worm, went straight
to the ancient library, and became absorbed in faded souvenirs, yellow
newspapers, and almanacs of a century ago.
Having displayed themselves below and romped all over the house, the
masqueraders grew tired at last, and early twilight warned them to leave
before ghostly shadows began to haunt the garret.
"I mean to take this down and ask grandma to show me how it's done. I've
heard her tell about spinning and weaving when she was a girl, and I
know I can learn," said Minnie, who had fallen in love with the little
wheel, and vainly tried to twist the flax into as smooth a thread as the
one hanging from the distaff, as if shadowy fingers had lately spun it.
"Queen Victoria set the fashion in England, and we might do it here.
Wouldn't it be fun to have a wheel in the parlor at home, and really use
it; not keep it tied up with blue ribbons, as the other girls do!" cried
Lotty, charmed with the new idea.
"Come, Geoff, take it down for us. You ought to do it out of gratitude
for my cheering you up so nicely," said Min, leading the way.
"So I will. Here, Walt, give it a hoist, and come behind to pick up the
pieces, for the old machine must be about a hundred, I guess."
Shouldering the wheel, Geoff carried it down; but no bits fell by the
way, for the stout little wheel was all in order, kept so by loving
hands that for more than eighty years had been spinning the mingled
thread of a long and useful life.
Glorious fires were roaring up the wide chimneys in parlor and
keeping-room, and old and young were gathering around them, while the
storm beat on the window-panes, and the wintry wind howled as if angry
at being shut out.
"See what we've stolen, grandma," cried Min, as the procession came in,
rosy, dusty, gay, and eager.
"Bless the child! What possessed you to lug that old thing down?" asked
Madam Shirley, much amused as the prize was placed before her, where she
sat in her high-backed chair,--a right splendid old lady in her stately
cap, black silk gown, and muslin apron, with a bunch of keys at her
side, like a model housekeeper, as she was.
"You don't mind our playing with it, do you? And will you teach me to
spin? I think it's such a pretty little thing, and I want to be like you
in all ways, grandma dear," answered Min, sitting on the arm of the
great chair, with her fresh cheek close to the wrinkled one where winter
roses still bloomed.
"You wheedling gypsy! I'll teach you with all my heart, for it is pretty
work, and I often wonder ladies don't keep it up. I did till I was too
busy, and now I often take a turn at it when I'm tired of knitting. The
hum is very soothing, and the thread much stronger than any we get
nowadays."
As she spoke, the old lady dusted the wheel, and gave it a skilful turn
or two, till the soft whir made pleasant music in the room.
"Is it really a hundred years old?" asked Geoff, drawing nearer with the
others to watch the new work.
"Just about. It was one of my mother's wedding presents, and she gave it
to me when I was fifteen. Deary me, how well I remember that day!" and
grandma seemed to fall a-dreaming as her eyes rested on the letters E.
R. M. rudely cut in the wood, and below these were three others with
something meant for a true lover's knot between.
"Whose initials are these?" asked Min, scenting a romance with girlish
quickness, for grandma was smiling as if her eyes read the title to some
little story in those worn letters.
"Elizabeth Rachel Morgan, and Joel Manlius Shirley. Your blessed
grandfather cut our names there the day I was sixteen, and put the
flourish between to show what he wanted," added the old lady, laughing
as she made the wheel hum again.
"Tell about it, please do," begged Min, remembering that grandma had
been a beauty and a belle.
"It's a long tale, my darling, and I couldn't tell it now. Sometime when
I'm teaching you to spin I'll do it, maybe."
But the girl was determined to have her story; and after tea, when the
little ones were in bed, the elders playing whist in the parlor, and the
young folks deciding what game to begin, Minnie sat down and tried to
spin, sure that the familiar sound would lure grandma to give the lesson
and tell the tale.
She was right, for the wheel had not gone around many times, when the
tap of the cane was heard, and the old lady came rustling in, quite
ready for a chat, now that three cups of her own good tea and a nap in
the chimney corner had refreshed her.
"No, dear, that's not the way; you need a dish of water to wet your
fingers in, and you must draw the flax out slow and steady, else it runs
to waste, and makes a poor thread. Fetch me that chair, and I'll show
you how, since you are bent on learning."
Establishing herself in the straight-backed seat, a skilful tap of the
foot set the wheel in swift and easy motion, and the gray thread twisted
fine and evenly from the distaff.
"Isn't it a pretty picture?" said Min to Lotty, as they watched the old
lady work.
"Not so pretty as the one I used to see when my dear mother sat here,
and I, a little child, at her knee. Ah, my dears, she could have told
you stories all night long, and well worth hearing. I was never tired of
them."
"Please tell one now, grandma. We don't know what to play, and it would
be so nice to sit around the fire and hear it this stormy night,"
suggested Min, artfully seizing the hint.
"Do! Do! We all love stories, and we'll be as still as mice," added
Geoff, beckoning to the others as he took the big arm-chair, being the
oldest grandson and leader of the flock.
Camping on the rug, or nestling in the sofa corner, the boys and girls
all turned expectant faces toward grandma, who settled her cap-strings
and smoothed her spotless apron, with an indulgent smile at her little
audience.
"I don't know which one to tell first."
"The ghost story; that's a splendid one, and most of the children never
heard it," said Walt.
"Have Indians and fighting in it. I like that kind," added Geoff.
"No; tell a love story. They are _so_ interesting," said Lotty.
"I want the story about the initials first. I know it is very
sentimental. So do begin with that, grandma," begged Min.
"Well, dears, perhaps I'd better choose that one, for it has the battle
of New Orleans, and wolves, and spinning, and sweethearts in it; so it
will suit you all, I hope."
"Oh, lovely! Do begin right away," cried Minnie, as the clapping of
hands showed how satisfactory the prospect was.
Grandma gave a loud "hem!" and began at once, while the little wheel
hummed a soft accompaniment to her words.
GRANDMA'S STORY.
"When I was fifteen, my mother gave me this wheel, and said: 'Now,
daughter Betsey, it is time for you to begin your wedding outfit, for I
mistrust you'll marry young.' In those days girls spun and wove webs of
fine linen and laid 'em up in chests, with lavender and rosemary, for
sheets and table-linen after they married. So I spun away, making all
manner of fine plans in my silly head, for I was a pretty piece, they
all said, and young as I was, two or three fine lads used to come
evenings and sit staring at me while I worked.
"Among these, was my neighbor Joel Manlius Shirley, and I was fond of
him; but he hadn't much money, so I put on airs, and tried his patience
very much. One day he came in and said: 'Betsey, I'm going
a-soldiering; they need men, and I'm off. Will you think of poor Joe
when I'm gone?'
"I don't know how I looked, but I felt as if I couldn't bear it. Only I
was too proud to show my trouble; so I laughed, and gave my wheel a
twist, and said I was glad of it, since anything was better than hanging
round at home.
"That hurt him; but he was always gentle to saucy Betsey, and taking out
his knife, he cut those letters under mine, saying, with a look I never
could forget:--
"'That will remind you of me if you are likely to forget. Good-by; I'm
going right away, and may never come back.'
"He kissed me, and was off before I could say a word, and then I cried
till my flax was wet and my thread tangled, and my heart 'most broken.
Deary me, how well I remember that heavy day!"
Grandma smiled, but something shone in her old eyes very like a tear,
and sentimental Lotty felt deeply interested at this point.
"Where does the fighting come in?" asked Geoff, who was of a military
turn, as became the descendant of a soldier.
"I didn't know or care much about the War of 1812, except as far as the
safety of one man was concerned. Joe got on without any harm till the
battle of New Orleans, when he was nearly killed behind the cotton-bale
breastworks General Jackson built."
"Yes, I know all about it. Jackson fought against twelve thousand, and
lost only seven men. That was the last battle of the war, January 8,
1815. Three cheers for grandpa!" shouted Geoff, waving a tidy, as no hat
was at hand.
The others echoed the hurrah, and grandma beamed with pride as she went
on: "We couldn't get news from the army very often in those troublous
times, and Joe was gone two years before the war ended. After the great
battle we had no news for a long spell, and we feared he was one of the
seven men killed. Those were dreadful days for all of us. My honored
mother was a pious soul, and so was Mrs. Shirley; and they kept up their
hearts with hope and prayer; but I, poor thing, was young and weak, and
I cried myself half blind, remembering how naughty I had been. I would
spin no more, but set the wheel away, saying I should have no need of
wedding gear, as I should never marry; and I wore black ribbon on my
caps, and one of Joe's buttons strung about my neck, mourning dismally
for my lost dear.
"So the winter ended, and the summer went, and no news came of Joe. All
said he was dead, and we had prayers at church, and talked of setting up
a stone in the grave-yard, and I thought my life was done; for I pined
sadly, and felt as if I could never laugh again. But I did; for the Lord
was very good to us, and out of danger and captivity delivered that dear
boy."
Grandma spoke solemnly, and folded her hands in thanksgiving as she
looked up at the picture of the handsome officer hanging on the wall
before her. The elder children could just remember grandpa as a very old
and feeble man, and it struck them as funny to speak of him as a "dear
boy;" but they never smiled, and dutifully lifted their eyes to the
queue and the high-collared coat, wondering if Joe was as rosy in real
life as in the portrait.
"Well, that's the sentimental part; now comes the merry part, and that
will suit the boys," said the old lady, briskly, as she spun away,--and
went on in a lively tone:--
"One December day, as I sat by that very window, dreaming sorrowfully at
my sewing work, while old Sally nodded over her knitting by the fire, I
saw a man come creeping along by the fence and dodge behind the
wood-pile. There were many bad folks 'round in those times; for war
always leaves a sight of lazy rascals afloat, as well as poor fellows
maimed and homeless.
"Mother had gone over to the sewing society at Mrs. Shirley's, and I was
all alone; for Sally was so stiff with rheumatics she could scarce stir,
and that was why I stayed to take care of her. The old musket always
hung over the kitchen chimney-piece, loaded, and I knew how to fire it,
for Joe had taught me. So away I went and got it down; for I saw the man
popping up his head now and then to spy the land, and I felt sure he
meant mischief. I knew Sally would only scream like a scared hen, so I
let her sleep; and getting behind the shutter I pointed my gun, and
waited to blaze away as soon as the enemy showed signs of attacking.
"Presently he came creeping up to the back door, and I heard him try the
latch. All was fast, so I just slipped into the kitchen and stood
behind the settle, for I was surer than ever he was a rascal since I'd
seen him nearer. He was a tall man, dreadful shabby in an old coat and
boots, a ragged hat over his eyes, and a great beard hiding the lower
part of his face. He had a little bundle and a big stick in his hands,
and limped as if foot-sore or lame.
"I was much afeard; but those were times that made heroes of men, and
taught women to be brave for love of home and country. So I kept steady,
with my eye on the window, and my finger on the trigger of the old gun,
that hadn't been fired for years. Presently the man looked in, and I saw
what a strange roll his great eyes had, for he was thin-faced and looked
half-starved. If mother had been there, she'd have called him in and fed
him well, but I dared not, and when he tried the window I aimed, but did
not fire; for finding the button down he went away, and I dropped on the
settle, shaking like a leaf. All was still, and in a minute I plucked up
courage to go to look out a bit; but just as I reached the middle of the
kitchen, the buttery door opened, and there stood the robber, with a
carving knife in one hand and my best loaf of spice bread in the other.
He said something, and made a rush at me; but I pulled the trigger, saw
a flash, felt a blow, and fell somewhere, thinking, 'Now I'm dead!'"
Here grandma paused for breath, having spoken rapidly and acted out the
scene dramatically, to the intense delight of the children, who sat like
images of interest, staring at her with round eyes.
"But you weren't dead? What next?" cried Walt, eagerly.
"Bless you, no! I only fell into Joe's arms, and when I came to, there
the dear fellow was, crying over me like a baby, while old Sally danced
round us like a bedlamite, in spite of her rheumatics, shouting:
'Hosanna! Thanks and praise! He's come, he's come!'"
"Was he shot?" asked Geoff, anxious for a little bloodshed.
"No, dear; the old gun burst and hurt my hands, but not a mite of harm
was done to Joe. I don't think I could tell all that happened for a
spell, being quite dazed with joy and surprise; but by the time mother
came home I was as peart as a wren, and Joe was at the table eating and
drinking every mortal thing I could find in the house.
"He'd been kept a prisoner till exchanged, and had had a hard time
getting home, with little money and a bad wound in the leg, besides
being feeble with jail fever. But we didn't fret over past troubles,
being so glad to get him back. How my blessed mother did laugh, when we
told her the reception I gave the poor lad! But I said it served him
right, since he came sneaking home like a thief, instead of marching in
like a hero. Then he owned that he came there to get something to eat,
being ashamed to go in upon his mother with all her company about her.
So we fed and comforted him; and when we'd got our wits about us, I
whipped away to Mrs. Shirley's and told my news, and every one of those
twenty-five women went straight over to our house and burst in upon
poor Joe, as he lay resting on the settle. That was my revenge for the
scare he gave me, and a fine one it was; for the women chattered over
him like a flock of magpies, and I sat in the corner and laughed at him.
Ah, I was a sad puss in those days!"
The old lady's black eyes twinkled with fun, and the children laughed
with her, till Walt caused a lull by asking:--
"Where do the wolves come in, grandma?"
"Right along, dear; I'm not likely to forget 'em, for they 'most cost me
my life, to say nothing of my new slippers. There was great rejoicing
over Joe, and every one wanted to do something to honor our hero; for he
had done well, we found out, when the General heard his story. We had a
great dinner, and Judge Mullikin gave a supper; but Major Belknap was
bound to outshine the rest, so he invited all the young folks over to
his house, nigh ten miles away, to a ball, and we all went. I made
myself fine, you may believe, and wore a pair of blue kid slippers, with
mother's best buckles to set 'em off. Joe had a new uniform, and was an
elegant figure of a man, I do assure you. He couldn't dance, poor dear,
being still very lame: but I was a proud girl when I marched into that
ball-room, on the arm of my limping beau. The men cheered, and the
ladies stood up in chairs to see him, and he was as red as my ribbons,
and I could hardly keep from crying, as I held him up,--the floor being
slippery as glass with the extra waxing it had got.
"I declared I wouldn't dance, because Joe couldn't; but he made me,
saying he could see me better; so I footed it till two o'clock, soon
forgetting all my sorrow and my good resolutions as well. I wanted to
show Joe that I was as much a favorite as ever, though I'd lived like a
widow for a year. Young folks will be giddy, and I hope these girls will
take warning by me and behave better when their time comes. There mayn't
be any wolves to sober 'em, but trouble of some sort always follows
foolish actions; so be careful, my dears, and behave with propriety when
you 'come out,' as you call it nowadays."
Grandma held up a warning forefinger at the girls, and shook her head
impressively, feeling that the moral of her tale must be made clear
before she went on. But the lassies blushed a little, and the lads
looked all impatience, so the dear old lady introduced the wolves as
quickly as she could.
"About half-past two, Joe and I drove off home with four fine hams in
the bottom of the sleigh, sent by the Major to our mothers. It was a
bitter-cold February night, with just light enough to see the road, and
splendid sleighing; so we went along at a good pace, till we came to the
great woods. They are all gone now, and the woollen mills stand there,
but then they were a thick forest of pines, and for more than three
miles the road led through them. In former days Indians had lurked
there; bears and foxes were still shot, and occasionally wolves were
seen, when cold weather drove them to seek food near the sheep-folds and
barn-yards.
"Well, we were skimming along pleasantly enough, I rather sleepy, and
Joe very careful of me, when, just as I was beginning to doze a bit with
my head on his arm I felt him start. Old Buck, the horse, gave a jump
that woke me up, and in a minute I knew what the trouble was, for from
behind us came the howl of a wolf.
"'Just the night to bring 'em out,' muttered Joe, using the whip till
Buck went at his quickest trot, with his ears down and every sign of
hurry and worry about him.
"'Are you afraid of them?' I asked, for I'd never had a scare of this
sort, though I'd heard other people tell of the fierceness of the brutes
when hunger made them bold.
"'Not a bit, only I wish I had my gun along,' said Joe, looking over his
shoulder anxiously.
"'Pity I hadn't brought mine--I do so well with it,' I said, and I
laughed as I remembered how I aimed at Joe and hurt myself.
"'Are they chasing us?' I asked, standing up to look back along the
white road, for we were just on the edge of the woods now.
"'Shouldn't wonder. If I had a better horse it would be a lively race;
but Buck can't keep this pace long, and if he founders we are in a fix,
for I can't run, and you can't fight. Betsey, there's more than one;
hold tight and try to count 'em.'
"Something in Joe's voice told me plainer than words that we were in
danger, and I wished we'd waited till the rest of our party came; but I
was tired, and so we had started alone.
"Straining my eyes, I could see _three_ black spots on the snow, and
hear three howls as the wolves came galloping after us. I was a brave
girl, but I'd never tried this kind of thing before, and in a minute all
the wolf stories I'd ever heard came flying through my mind. I _was_
mortally afeard, but I wouldn't show it, and turned to Joe, trying to
laugh as I said: 'Only three as yet. Tell me just what to do, and I'll
do it.'
"'Brave lass! I must see to Buck or he'll be down, for he's badly
scared. You wait till the rascals are pretty close, then heave over one
of these confounded hams to amuse 'em, while we make the most of their
halt. They smell this meat, and that's what they are after,' said Joe,
driving his best, for the poor old horse began to pant, and limp on his
stiff legs.
"'Lucky for us we've got 'em,' says I, bound to be cool and gay; 'if we
hadn't, they'd get fresh meat instead of smoked.'
"Joe laughed, but a long howl close by made me dive for a ham; for in
the darkness of the woods the beasts had got closer, and now all I could
see were several balls of fire not many yards away. Out went the ham,
and a snarling sound showed that the wolves were busy eating it.
"'All right!' said Joe. 'Rest a bit, and have another ready. They'll
soon finish that and want more. We must go easy, for Buck is nearly
blown.'
"I prepared my ammunition, and, in what seemed five minutes, I heard the
patter of feet behind us, and the fiery eyes were close by. Over went
the second mouthful, and then the third, and the fourth; but they
seemed more ravenous than ever, and each time were back sooner in
greater numbers.
"We were nearly out of the woods when the last was gone, and if Buck had
only had strength we should have been safe. But it was plain to see that
he couldn't keep up much longer, for he was very old, though he'd been a
fine horse in his prime.
"'This looks bad, little Betsey. Cover up in the robes, and hold fast to
me. The beasts will begin to snatch presently, and I'll have to fight
'em off. Thank the powers, I've my arms left.'
"As he spoke, Joe pulled me close, and wrapped me up, then took the
whip, ready to rap the first wolf that dared come near enough to be hit.
We didn't wait long; up they raced, and began to leap and snarl in a way
that made my heart stand still, at first. Then my temper rose, and
catching up the hot brick I had for my feet, I fired it with such good
aim that one sharp, black nose disappeared with a yelp of pain.
"'Hit 'em again, Betsey! Take the demijohn and bang 'em well. We are
nearing Beaman's, and the brutes will soon drop off.'
"It was a lively scrimmage for a few minutes, as we both warmed to our
work, Joe thrashing away with his whip on one side, and I on the other
flourishing the demijohn in which we had carried some cider for the
supper.
"But it was soon over, for in the fury of the fight Joe forgot the
horse; poor Buck made a sudden bolt, upset the sleigh down a bank, and,
breaking loose, tore back along the road with the wolves after him.
"'Run, Betsey! run for your life, and send Beaman's folks back! I'm done
for--my leg's broken. Never mind. I'll crawl under the sleigh, and be
all right till you come. The wolves will take a good while to pick poor
Buck's bones.'
"Just waiting to see Joe safe, I ran as I never ran before,--and I was
always light of foot. How I did it I don't know, for I'd forgot to put
on my moccasins (we didn't have snow-boots, you know, in my young days),
and there I was, tearing along that snowy road in my blue kid slippers
like a crazy thing. It was nigh a mile, and my heart was 'most broke
before I got there; but I kept my eye on the light in Hetty's winder and
tugged along, blessing her for the guide and comfort that candle was.
The last bit was down hill, or I couldn't have done it; for when I fell
on the doorstep my voice was clean gone, and I could only lie and rap,
rap, rap! till they came flying. I just got breath enough to gasp out
and point:--
"'Joe--wolves--the big woods--go!' when my senses failed me, and I was
carried in."
Here Madam Shirley leaned back in her chair quite used up, for she had
been acting the scene to a breathless audience, and laying about her
with her handkerchief so vigorously that her eyes snapped, her cheeks
were red, and her dear old cap all awry.
"But Joe--did they eat him?" cried the boys in great excitement, while
the girls held to one another, and the poor little wheel lay flat, upset
by the blows of the imaginary demijohn, dealt to an equally imaginary
wolf.
"Hardly,--since he lived to be your grandfather," laughed the old lady,
in high feather at the success of her story.
"No, no,--we mean the horse;" shouted Geoff, while the others roared at
the mistake.
"Yes, they did. Poor old Buck saved us, at the cost of his own life. His
troubles were over, but mine were not; for when I came to, I saw Mr.
Beaman, and my first thought and word was 'Joe?'"
"'Too late--they'd got him, so we turned back to tell you,' said that
stupid man.
"I gave one cry and was going off again, when his wife shook me, and
says, laughing: 'You little goose! He means the folks from the Major's.
A lot came along and found Joe, and took him home, and soon's ever
you're fit we'll send you along, too.'
"'I'm ready now,' says I, jumping up in a hurry. But I had to sit down
again, for my feet were all cut and bleeding, and my slippers just rags.
They fixed me up and off I went, to find mother in a sad taking. But Joe
was all right; he hadn't broken his leg, but only sprained it badly, and
being the wounded one he was laid up longer than I. We both got well,
however, and the first time Joe went out he hobbled over to our house. I
was spinning again then, and thought I might need my wedding outfit,
after all--On the whole, I guess we'll end the story here; young folks
wouldn't care for that part."
As grandma paused, the girls cried out with one voice: "Yes, we do! we
like it best. You said you would. Tell about the wedding and all."
"Well, well, it isn't much. Joe came and sat by me, and, as we talked
over our adventure, he cut that true lover's knot between the letters. I
didn't seem to mind, and spun away till he pointed to it, saying, with
the look that always made me meek as a lamb, 'May it stand so, my little
Betsey?'
"I said 'Yes, Joe,' and then--well, never mind that bit;--we were
married in June, and I spun and wove my wedding things afterward.
Dreadful slack, my mother thought, but I didn't care. My wedding gown
was white lutestring, full trimmed with old lace. Hair over a cushion
with white roses, and the pearl necklace, just as you see up there. Joe
wore his uniform, and I tied up his hair with a white satin ribbon. He
looked beautiful,--and so did I."
At this artless bit of vanity, the girls smiled, but all agreed that
grandma was right, as they looked at the portraits with fresh interest.
"I call that a pretty good story," said Walt, with the air of an
accomplished critic.
"'Specially the wolf part. I wanted that longer," added Geoff.
"It was quite long enough for me, my dear, and I didn't hear the last of
it for years. Why, one of my wedding presents was four hams done up
elegantly in white paper, with posies on 'em, from the Major. He loved a
joke, and never forgot how well we fought with the pigs' legs that
night. Joe gave me a new sleigh, the next Christmas, with two wolf-skin
robes for it,--shot the beasts himself, and I kept those rugs till the
moths ate the last bit. He kept the leavings of my slippers, and I have
them still. Fetch 'em, Minnie--you know where they are."
Grandma pointed to the tall secretary that stood in a corner, and Minnie
quickly took a box from one of the many drawers. All the heads clustered
around grandma, and the faded, ragged shoes went from hand to hand,
while questions rained upon the story-teller till she bade them go to
bed.
Nothing but the promise of more tales would appease them; then, with
thanks and kisses, the young folks trooped away, leaving the old lady to
put the little wheel to rights, and sit thinking over her girlhood, in
the fire-light.
[Illustration]
TABBY'S TABLE CLOTH
The storm kept on all night, and next morning the drifts were higher,
the wind stronger, and the snow falling faster than ever. Through the
day the children roved about the great house, amusing themselves as best
they could; and, when evening came, they gathered around the fire again,
eager for the promised story from grandmamma.
"I've a little cold," said the old lady, "and am too hoarse for talking,
my dears; but Aunt Elinor has looked up a parcel of old tales that I've
told her at different times and which she has written down. You will
like to hear her reading better than my dull way of telling them, and I
can help Minnie and Lotty with their work, for I see they are bent on
learning to spin."
The young folk were well pleased with grandma's proposal; for Aunt Nell
was a favorite with all, being lively and kind and fond of children, and
the only maiden aunt in the family. Now, she smilingly produced a faded
old portfolio, and, turning over a little pile of manuscripts, said in
her pleasant way:--
"Here are all sorts, picked up in my travels at home and abroad; and in
order to suit all of you, I have put the names on slips of paper into
this basket, and each can draw one in turn. Does that please my
distinguished audience?"
"Yes, yes. Geoff's the oldest, let him draw first," cried the flock,
fluttering like a flight of birds before they settle.
"Girls come first," answered the boy, with a nod toward the eldest girl
cousin.
Lotty put in her hand and, after some fumbling, drew out a paper on
which was written, "_Tabby's Table-cloth_." "Is that a good one?" she
asked, for Geoff looked disappointed.
"More fighting, though a girl is still the heroine," answered Aunt Nell,
searching for the manuscript.
"I think two revolutions will be enough for you, General," added
grandmamma, laughing.
"Do we beat in both?" asked the boy, brightening up at once.
"Yes."
"All right, then. I vote for 'Dolly's Dish-cloth,' or whatever it is;
though I don't see what it can possibly have to do with war," he added.
"Ah, my dear, women have their part to play as well as men at such
times, and do it bravely, though one does not hear so much about their
courage. I've often wished some one would collect all that can be found
about these neglected heroines, and put it in a book for us to read,
admire, and emulate when our turn comes."
Grandma looked thoughtfully at the fire as she spoke, and Lotty said,
with her eye on the portfolio: "Perhaps Aunt Nell will do it for us.
Then history won't be so dry, and we can glorify our fore-mothers as
well as fathers."
"I'll see what I can find. Now spin away, Minnie, and sit still,
boys,--if you can."
Then, having settled grandma's foot-stool, and turned up the lamp, Aunt
Nell read the tale of
TABBY'S TABLE-CLOTH.
On the 20th day of March, 1775, a little girl was trudging along a
country road, with a basket of eggs on her arm. She seemed in a great
hurry, and looked anxiously about her as she went; for those were
stirring times, and Tabitha Tarbell lived in a town that took a famous
part in the Revolution. She was a rosy-faced, bright-eyed lass of
fourteen, full of vigor, courage, and patriotism, and just then much
excited by the frequent rumors which reached Concord that the British
were coming to destroy the stores sent there for safe keeping while the
enemy occupied Boston. Tabby glowed with wrath at the idea, and
(metaphorically speaking) shook her fist at august King George, being a
stanch little Rebel, ready to fight and die for her country rather than
submit to tyranny of any kind.
In nearly every house something valuable was hidden. Colonel Barrett had
six barrels of powder; Ebenezer Hubbard, sixty-eight barrels of flour;
axes, tents, and spades were at Daniel Cray's; and Captain David Brown
had guns, cartridges, and musket balls. Cannon were hidden in the woods;
fire-arms were being manufactured at Barrett's Mills; cartouch-boxes,
belts, and holsters, at Reuben Brown's; saltpetre at Josiah Melvin's;
and much oatmeal was prepared at Captain Timothy Wheeler's. A morning
gun was fired, a guard of ten men patrolled the town at night, and the
brave farmers were making ready for what they felt must come.
There were Tories in the town who gave the enemy all the information
they could gather; therefore much caution was necessary in making plans,
lest these enemies should betray them. Pass-words were adopted, secret
signals used, and messages sent from house to house in all sorts of
queer ways. Such a message lay hidden under the eggs in Tabby's basket,
and the brave little girl was going on an important errand from her
uncle, Captain David Brown, to Deacon Cyrus Hosmer, who lived at the
other end of the town, by the South Bridge. She had been employed
several times before in the same way, and had proved herself
quick-witted, stout-hearted, and light-footed. Now, as she trotted along
in her scarlet cloak and hood, she was wishing she could still further
distinguish herself by some great act of heroism; for good Parson
Emerson had patted her on the head and said, "Well done, child!" when he
heard how she ran all the way to Captain Barrett's, in the night, to
warn him that Doctor Lee, the Tory, had been detected sending
information of certain secret plans to the enemy.
"I would do more than that, though it was a fearsome run through the
dark woods. Wouldn't those two like to know all I know about the
stores? But I wouldn't tell 'em, not if they drove a bayonet through me.
I'm not afeard of 'em;" and Tabby tossed her head defiantly, as she
paused to shift her basket from one arm to the other.
But she evidently was "afeard" of something, for her ruddy cheeks turned
pale and her heart gave a thump, as two men came in sight, and stopped
suddenly on seeing her. They were strangers; and though nothing in their
dress indicated it, the girl's quick eye saw that they were soldiers;
step and carriage betrayed it, and the rapidity with which these martial
gentlemen changed into quiet travellers roused her suspicions at once.
They exchanged a few whispered words; then they came on, swinging their
stout sticks, one whistling, the other keeping a keen lookout along the
lonely road before and behind them.
"My pretty lass, can you tell me where Mr. Daniel Bliss lives?" asked
the younger, with a smile and a salute.
Tabby was sure now that they were British; for the voice was deep and
full, the face a ruddy English face, and the man they wanted was a
well-known Tory. But she showed no sign of alarm, beyond the modest
color in her cheeks, and answered civilly: "Yes, sir, over yonder a
piece."
"Thanks, and a kiss for that," said the young man, stooping to bestow
his gift. But he got a smart box on the ear, and Tabby ran off in a fury
of indignation.
With a laugh they went on, never dreaming that the little Rebel was
going to turn spy herself, and get the better of them. She hurried away
to Deacon Hosmer's, and did her errand, adding thereto the news that
strangers were in town. "We must know more of them," said the Deacon.
"Clap a different suit on her, wife, and send her with the eggs to Mrs.
Bliss. We have all we want of them, and Tabby can look well about her,
while she rests and gossips over there. Bliss must be looked after
smartly, for he is a knave, and will do us harm."
Away went Tabby in a blue cloak and hood, much pleased with her mission;
and, coming to the Tory's house about noon, smelt afar off a savory odor
of roasting meat and baking pies.
Stepping softly to the back-door, she peeped through a small window, and
saw Mrs. Bliss and her handmaid cooking away in the big kitchen, too
busy to heed the little spy, who slipped around to the front of the
house, to take a general survey before she went in. All she saw
confirmed her suspicions; for in the keeping-room a table was set forth
in great style, with the silver tankards, best china, and the fine
damask table-cloth, which the housewife kept for holidays. Still another
peep through the lilac bushes before the parlor windows showed her the
two strangers closeted with Mr. Bliss, all talking earnestly, but in too
low a tone for a word to reach even her sharp ears.
"I _will_ know what they are at. I'm sure it is mischief, and I won't go
back with only my walk for my pains," thought Tabby; and marching into
the kitchen, she presented her eggs with a civil message from Madam
Hosmer.
"They are mighty welcome, child. I've used a sight for my custards, and
need more for the flip. We've company to dinner unexpected, and I'm much
put about," said Mrs. Bliss, who seemed to be concerned about something
besides the dinner, and in her flurry forgot to be surprised at the
unusual gift; for the neighbors shunned them, and the poor woman had
many anxieties on her husband's account, the family being divided,--one
brother a Tory, and one a Rebel.
"Can I help, ma'am? I'm a master hand at beating eggs, Aunt Hitty says.
I'm tired, and wouldn't mind sitting a bit if I'm not in the way," said
Tabby, bound to discover something more before she left.
"But you be in the way. We don't want any help, so you'd better be
steppin' along home, else suthin' besides eggs may git whipped.
Tale-bearers ain't welcome here," said old Puah, the maid, a sour
spinster, who sympathized with her master, and openly declared she hoped
the British would put down the Yankee Rebels soon and sharply.
Mrs. Bliss was in the pantry, and heard nothing of this little passage
of arms; for Tabby hotly resented the epithet of "tale-bearer," though
she knew that the men in the parlor were not the only spies on the
premises.
"When you are all drummed out of town and this house burnt to the
ground, you may be glad of my help, and I wish you may get it. Good-day,
old crab-apple," answered saucy Tabby; and catching up her basket, she
marched out of the kitchen with her nose in the air.
But as she passed the front of the house, she could not resist another
look at the fine dinner-table; for in those days few had time or heart
for feasting, and the best napery and china seldom appeared. One window
stood open, and as the girl leaned in, something moved under the long
cloth that swept the floor. It was not the wind, for the March day was
still and sunny, and in a minute out popped a gray cat's head, and puss
came purring to meet the new-comer whose step had roused her from a nap.
"Where one tabby hides, another can. Can I dare to do it? What would
become of me if found out? How wonderful it would be if I could hear
what these men are plotting. I will!"
A sound in the next room decided her; and, thrusting the basket among
the bushes, she leaped lightly in and vanished under the table, leaving
puss calmly washing her face on the window-sill.
As soon as it was done Tabby's heart began to flutter; but it was too
late to retreat, for at that moment in bustled Mrs. Bliss, and the poor
girl could only make herself as small as possible, quite hidden under
the long folds that fell on all sides from the wide, old-fashioned
table. She discovered nothing from the women's chat, for it ran on
sage-cheese, egg-nog, roast pork, and lamentations over a burnt pie. By
the time dinner was served, and the guests called in to eat it, Tabby
was calm enough to have all her wits about her, and pride gave her
courage to be ready for the consequences, whatever they might be.
For a time the hungry gentlemen were too busy eating to talk much; but
when Mrs. Bliss went out, and the flip came in, they were ready for
business. The window was shut, whereat Tabby exulted that she was
inside; the talkers drew closer together, and spoke so low that she
could only catch a sentence now and then, which caused her to pull her
hair with vexation; and they swore a good deal, to the great horror of
the pious little maiden curled up at their feet. But she heard enough to
prove that she was right; for these men were Captain Brown and Ensign De
Bernicre, of the British army, come to learn where the supplies were
stored and how well the town was defended. She heard Mr. Bliss tell them
that some of the "Rebels," as he called his neighbors, had sent him word
that he should not leave the town alive, and he was in much fear for his
life and property. She heard the Englishmen tell him that if he came
with them they would protect him; for they were armed, and three of them
together could surely get safely off, as no one knew the strangers had
arrived but the slip of a girl who showed them the way. Here "the slip
of a girl" nodded her head savagely, and hoped the speaker's ear still
tingled with the buffet she gave it.
Mr. Bliss gladly consented to this plan, and told them he would show
them the road to Lexington, which was a shorter way to Boston than
through Weston and Sudbury, the road they came.
"These people won't fight, will they?" asked Ensign De Bernicre.
"There goes a man who will fight you to the death," answered Mr. Bliss,
pointing to his brother Tom, busy in a distant field.
The Ensign swore again, and gave a stamp that brought his heavy heel
down on poor Tabby's hand, as she leaned forward to catch every word.
The cruel blow nearly forced a cry from her; but she bit her lips and
never stirred, though faint with pain. When she could listen again, Mr.
Bliss was telling all he knew about the hiding places of the powder,
grain, and cannon the enemy wished to capture and destroy. He could not
tell much, for the secrets had been well kept; but if he had known that
our young Rebel was taking notes of his words under his own table, he
might have been less ready to betray his neighbors. No one suspected a
listener, however, and all Tabby could do was to scowl at three pairs of
muddy boots, and wish she were a man that she might fight the wearers of
them.
She very nearly had a chance to fight or fly; for just as they were
preparing to leave the table, a sudden sneeze nearly undid her. She
thought she was lost, and hid her face, expecting to be dragged out--to
instant death, perhaps--by the wrathful men of war.
"What's that?" exclaimed the Ensign, as a sudden pause followed that
fatal sound.
"It came from under the table," added Captain Brown, and a hand lifted a
corner of the cloth.
A shiver went through Tabby, and she held her breath, with her eye upon
that big, brown hand; but the next moment she could have laughed with
joy, for pussy saved her. The cat had come to doze on her warm skirts,
and when the cloth was raised, fancying she was to be fed by her master,
puss rose and walked out purring loudly, tail erect, with its white tip
waving like a flag of truce.
"'Tis but the old cat, gentlemen. A good beast, and, fortunately for us,
unable to report our conference," said Mr. Bliss, with an air of relief,
for he had started guiltily at the bare idea of an eavesdropper.
"She sneezed as if she were as great a snuff-taker as an old woman of
whom we asked our way above here," laughed the Ensign, as they all rose.
"And there she is now, coming along as if our grenadiers were after
her!" exclaimed the Captain, as the sound of steps and a wailing voice
came nearer and nearer.
Tabby took a long breath, and vowed that she would beg or buy the dear
old cat that had saved her from destruction. Then she forgot her own
danger in listening to the poor woman, who came in crying that her
neighbors said she must leave town at once, or they would tar and
feather her for showing spies the road to a Tory's house.
"Well for me I came and heard their plots, or I might be sent off in
like case," thought the girl, feeling that the more perils she
encountered, the greater heroine she would be.