BEGINNING WITH A BEDSTEAD
Janice got up and took her usual before-breakfast run the next morning.
The Days remained the last family to rise in the neighborhood. The
smoke from the broken kitchen chimney crawled heavenward long after the
fires in other kitchen-stoves had burned down to hot coals.
So when the girl got back to the house, Aunt 'Mira had scarcely begun
getting the meal. Janice rummaged about in the tool-shed for some
minutes before she went upstairs to her room again. Marty crawled
down, yawning, and started for the usual morning pail of water from the
neighbor's well. Mr. Day was smoking on the bench outside of the
kitchen door. The pork began to hiss in the pan.
Suddenly, from upstairs, came a noisy pounding. Nail after nail was
being driven with confidence and dispatch.
"For the land's sake!" gasped Aunt 'Mira, looking up from the stove, a
strip of pork hanging from her up-raised fork.
Uncle Jason took his pipe from his lips and screwed his neck around so
as to look in at the door.
"What d'you reckon that gal's up to?" he demanded.
Marty came back from the Dickerson's at almost a lope. "What in
'tarnation is Janice doin' up in her room?" he queried, slopping the
water as he put the pail hurriedly upon the shelf.
"I haven't the least idea what it can be," said Mrs. Day, almost aghast.
"By jinks!" exclaimed the slangy boy. "I wanter see. By jinks! she
socked that nail home--she did!"
The whole house rang with the vigor of Janice's blows. Marty started
up the stairs in a hurry, and Mr. Day followed him. Mrs. Day came to
the foot of the stairs with the piece of pork still dangling from her
fork.
Marty reached his cousin's door and banged it open without as much as
saying "By your leave."
"Hullo! What you doin'?" demanded the boy.
"Can't you _see_?" returned Janice, coolly. "I got sick of being
rocked to sleep every night on that old soap-box. I'll wager, Marty,
that this leg will stay put when I get through with it."
"Wal! of all things!" grunted Mr. Day, with his head poked in at the
open door.
"What's Janice doing?" demanded his wife, too heavy to mount the stairs
easily.
Uncle Jason turned about and descended the flight without replying to
his wife; but at her reiterated cry Marty explained.
"Ain't that gal a good 'un?" said the boy. "She's gone and put on the
old leg to that bedstead. That's been broke off ever since you cleaned
house last Fall, Maw."
"Oh! Well! Is that it?" repeated Mrs. Day. Then, when she and her
husband were alone in the kitchen, before the young folk came down, she
said, pointing the fork at him: "I declare for't! I'd feel ashamed if
I was you, Jason Day."
"What for?" demanded her husband, scowling.
"Lettin' Broxton's gal do that. You could ha' tacked on that leg forty
times if you could once. Ain't that true?"
But Mr. Day refused to quarrel. He took a long drink from the pail of
fresh water Marty had brought. Then he said, tentatively:
"Breakfast most ready, Almiry? I'm right sharp-set."
When Janice and Marty came down they were not talking of the bedstead
at all. But Aunt 'Mira was rather gloomy all through the meal, and
looked accusingly at her husband every time she heaped his plate with
pork, and cakes, and "white gravey."
Mr. Day quite ignored these looks. He was even chatty--for him--with
Janice. It was a school day, and Janice hurried to put on her hat and
get her school bag, into which she slipped the luncheon that her aunt
very kindly put up for her. Aunt 'Mira had really begun to "put
herself out" for her niece, and the luncheon was always tasty and
nicely arranged.
"Wait for me, Marty!" she cried, as her cousin was sliding out of the
door in his usual attempt to get away unobserved, and so not be called
back for any unexpected chores.
"Aw, come on! A gal's always behind--like a cow's tail!" growled the
chivalrous Marty. "What you want?"
Janice gave him a quarter of a dollar secretly. "Now, you get that
pump leather and you bring it home this noon. Just put it on the table
by your father's plate," she commanded. "You going to do it for me?"
"Sure," grinned Marty. "And I'll see that he don't lose it, nuther. I
know Dad. He'll need more than _that_ suggestion to git him started on
that old pump."
"We'll try," sighed Janice; and then Marty ran on ahead of her to
overtake one of his boy friends. He would have been ashamed to be
caught walking with his girl cousin by daylight, and on the public
streets of Poketown!
After school that day, when Janice arrived again at the old Day house,
the first thing she heard was her aunt's complaining voice begging
Marty to go down to Dickerson's for a bucket of water.
"What's the matter with Dad?" demanded the boy. "Didn't I bring him
that pump leather? Huh!"
"Mebbe your father will git around to fixin' the pump staff, and he kin
make that in ten minutes. I believe he's got a stick for't out in the
workshop now, he won't be driv'."
"Janice wasted her good money, then," said Marty, with fine disgust.
"All else it needs is a pump staff, and he kin make that in ten
minutes. I believe he's got a stick for't out in the workshop--had it
there for months."
"Now, you git erlong with that pail, Marty," commanded his mother, "and
don't stand there a-criticisin' of your elders."
Janice hid behind the great lilac bush until Marty had gone grumblingly
down the hill. Then she heard some loud language from the barnyard and
knew that her uncle had come in from the fields. After a little
hesitation she made straight for the barn.
"Uncle Jason! won't you please mend the pump? Mr. Pringle has cut you
a good-pump leather."
"Goodness me, Janice! I'm druv to death. All this young corn to
cultivate, an' not a soul to help me. Other boys like Marty air some
good; but I can't trust him in the field with a hoss."
"But you don't work in the field all day long, Uncle," pleaded Janice.
"Seems to me I don't have a minute to call my own," declared the
farmer. To hear him talk one would think he was the busiest man in
Poketown!
"I expect you are pretty busy," agreed the girl, nodding; "but I can
tell you how to find time to mend that pump."
"How's that?" he asked, curiously.
"Get up when I do. We can mend it before the others come down. Will
you do it to-morrow morning, Uncle?"
"Wa-al! I dunno----"
"Say you will, Uncle Jason!" cried Janice. "We'll surprise 'em--Aunty
and Marty. They needn't never know till it's done."
"I got ter find a new pump shaft----"
"Marty says you've got one put away in the workshop."
"Why--er--so I have, come to think on't."
"Then it won't take long. Let's do it, Uncle--that's a dear!"
The man looked around dumbly; he hunted in his rather slow mind for
some excuse--some reason for withdrawing from the venture that Janice
proposed.
"I--I dunno as I would wake up----"
"I'll wake you. I'll come to your door and scratch on the panel like a
mouse gnawing. Aunt 'Mira will never hear."
"No. She sleeps like the dead," admitted Uncle Jason. "Only the dead
don't snore."
"Will you do it?"
"Oh, well! I'll see how I feel in the morning," half promised Uncle
Jason, and with this Janice had to be content. She did not, however,
lose heart. She was determined to stir the sluggish waters in and
about the old Day house, if such a thing could be done!
Uncle Jason was rather sombre that evening, and even Marty did not feel
equal to stirring the quiet waters of the family pool. Janice stole
away early to bed. Aunt Almira was always the last person in the
household to retire. Long after the rest of them were asleep she
remained swinging in her creaky rocker, close to the lamp, her eyes
glued to one of the cheap story papers upon which her romance-loving
soul had fed for years.
There was not a cloud at dawn. When Janice rubbed her eyes and looked
out of her wide open window the sun was almost ready to pop above the
hills. The birds were twittering--tuning up, as it were, for their
opening chorus of the day.
This was the day on which Janice determined the Day family should turn
over a new leaf!
She doused her face with cool water from her pitcher, and then
scrambled into her clothes and tidied her hair. She tiptoed to the
door of the bedchamber occupied by her uncle and aunt. At her first
tap on the panel Uncle Jason grunted.
"Well! I hear ye," he said, in no joyful tone.
Janice really giggled, as she listened outside of the door. She was
determined to have Uncle Jason up, and she waited, still scratching on
the door panel until she heard him give an angry grunt, and then land
with both feet on the straw matting. Then she scurried back to her own
room and quickly finished dressing.
She was downstairs ahead of him, and quickly opened the doors and
windows to the damp, sweet morning air. The cleaning up she and Marty
had given the yard had made the premises really pleasant to look at.
Flowers were springing along the borders of the path, and vines were
creeping up the string trellis by the back door. The apple trees were
covering the lawn with their last late shower of flower petals.
How the birds rioted in the tops of the trees! Singing, scolding,
mating, they were really the jolliest chorus one ever listened to. The
girl ran out into the yard and fairly danced up and down, she felt so
_good_! Much of her homesickness had fled since she had received
Daddy's letter.
She heard Uncle Jason heavily descending the stairs, his shoes in his
hand. Janice broke off a great branch of lilacs, shook off the dew,
and buried her face in the fragrant blossoms. Then, when Uncle Jason
came yawning into the kitchen, closing the stair door behind him, she
rushed in, with beaming face, bade him "Good-morning!" and put the
lilac branch directly under his nose.
"Just smell 'em, Uncle! Smell 'em deep--before you say a word," she
commanded.
He had come down with a full-grown grouch upon him--that was plainly to
be seen. But when he had taken in a great draught of the sweet odor of
the flowers, and found his niece with her lips puckered, and standing
on tiptoe to kiss him on his unshaven cheek, he somehow forgot the
grouch.
"Them's mighty purty! mighty purty!" he agreed, and while he pulled on
his congress gaiters, Janice arranged the blossoms in a jar of water
and set them in the middle of the breakfast table. Aunt 'Mira kept the
table set all the time. The red and white tablecloth was renewed only
once a week, and the jar of flowers served to hide the unsightly spot
where Marty had spilled the gravy the day before.
"Come on and let's see what the matter is with the pump," urged Janice,
in fear lest he should get away from her, for already Mr. Day's fingers
were searching along the ledge above the door for his pipe.
"Wa-al--ya-as--we might as well, I s'pose. I'll make 'Mira's fire
later. It's 'tarnal early, child."
"Sun's up," declared Janice. "Hurry, Uncle!"
He shuffled off to get his tools and the piece of oak he had laid aside
for a pump staff so long ago. Janice tried to untie the pump handle,
and, not succeeding, ran in for the carving knife and managed to saw
the rope in two.
"I got ter take off a piece of tin in the roof of the porch--see it up
yonder? Then I kin pull out the broken staff and put in a new one,"
said her uncle, coming back rather promptly for him. "These here
wooden pumps is a nuisance; but the wimmen folks all like 'em 'cause
they're easier to _pump_. Now! I bet that ladder won't hold my
weight."
He searched the old, rough, homemade ladder out of the weeds by the
boundary fence. It was built of two pieces of fence rail with rungs of
laths,--a rough and unsightly affair; and two or three of the rungs
_were_ cracked.
"It'll hold _me_," cried Janice. "You let me try, Uncle Jason. Let me
have the screwdriver. I can lift the tacks and pull off the tin. You
see."
She mounted the ladder in a hurry and crept upon the roof of the porch.
Uncle Jason started the nut at the handle, and soon removed that so
that the staff could be pulled out. The sheet of tin had covered a
hole in the shingles right above the pump. In a minute the cracked
staff, with the worn leather valve, was out of the pump entirely, and
Uncle Jason carried it out to the workshop where he could labor upon it
with greater ease. Janice slid down the ladder, found the little
three-fingered weeder, and went to work upon the rich mould around the
roots of the vines--the sweet peas and morning glories that would soon
be blooming in abundance.
Before Aunt 'Mira and Marty were up, the pump was working in fine
style. Uncle Jason had taken an abundance of water out to the cattle.
Usually the drinking trough was filled but once a day, and that about
noon. Now the poor horses and the neglected cow could have plenty of
water.
And so could the household. Aunt 'Mira need no longer give things "a
lick and a promise," as she so frequently expressed it. When she came
down it was to a humming fire, a steaming kettle, and a brimming pail
on the shelf.
"I declare for't, Janice!" she exclaimed. "What you done now?"
"Nothing, Aunty--save to put a pretty bunch of lilacs on the table for
you."
"An' them lilacs is always fragrant," agreed the lady. "Who went for
the water? Is Marty up?"
"Marty wouldn't lose his beauty sleep," laughed Janice.
"For the mercy's sake!" gasped Aunt 'Mira. "The pump bench is wet. I
declare for't! Jason never fixed that pump, did he?"
"Just try it, Aunty!" cried the delighted Janice. "See how easy it
works! And the more it's pumped the better the water will be. It's
not quite clear yet, you know. Moss _will_ grow in the pipe."
"Janice, you're a wonder! You kin do more with your uncle than his own
fam'bly can, an' that's a fact!"
"I hope you don't mind, Aunty?" she whispered, coming over to the large
lady and hugging her. "You know, after all, it's for you he did it."
"Wal, it does lighten my labor, that's a fact," admitted Aunt 'Mira.
"He use ter do a-many things for me, years ago. Oh, yes! Your Uncle
Jason warn't allus like he is now. But we got kinder in a rut I
'xpec'. An' I ain't young and good-lookin' like I use ter be, an' that
makes a diff'rence with a man."
"_I_ think you're very pleasant to look at, Aunt 'Mira," declared the
girl, warmly. "And I don't believe Uncle Jason ever saw a girl he
liked to look at so well as you. Of course not!"
"But I be gittin' old," sighed the poor woman. "An' I ain't got a
decent gown to put on no more. An' I'm _fat_."
Janice still hugged her. "We'll just overhaul your wardrobe, you and
I, Aunty, and I believe we can find something that can be fixed over to
look nice. You'd ought to wear pretty gowns--of course you had. Let's
surprise Uncle Jason by dressing you up. Why, he hasn't seen you
dressed up since--since I've been here."
"Longer'n that, child--much longer'n that," admitted Aunt 'Mira,
shamefacedly. "P'r'aps _'tis_ my fault. Anyway, I'm glad about the
pump," and she kissed her niece, heartily.