_How Opal Took the Miller’s Brand out of the Flour-Sack, and Got
Many Sore Feels thereby; and how Sparks Come on Cold Nights; and
how William Shakespeare Has Likings for Poems._
This day, when I was come home from school, I did have much wood to
carry in, for cold days are come. I did make goes to the wood-shed
to get the wood. Going to the wood-shed I passed that new flour-sack
hanging on the clothes-line. It was flapping in the wind. By and
by that flour-sack is going to evolute into an underskirt for me
to wear under my dress when I go to school. I got my arms full of
wood--as much as they could hold. Then I came into the house to put
the wood into the box behind the stove.
The mamma was standing by the window. She looked worry looks at
that new flour-sack hanging on the clothes-line there. She said she
wished she knew a quicker way to get that miller’s brand out of
the flour-sack. She put on her fascinator and went a-visiting. She
told me to watch the baby that was sleeping on the bed. While I was
carrying in more sticks of wood, I tried to think of a quicker way
to get that miller’s brand out of that flour-sack a-flapping there
in the window.
When enough wood was in and two more loads besides, I did sit on
the wood-box. After I did sit still a most long time, thinks did
come of a way. I got the scissors out. I got them out of the mamma’s
work-basket. The time it did take to cut the miller’s brand out of
the flour-sack, it was only a little time. And when it was fixed,
I did fold it in nice folds with the nice crooks sticking out. The
scissors did make those crooks in a nice way. Scissors are useful. I
do find much use for them. But the mamma likes not the uses I find
for the scissors. She does say I am a new sance. I guess a new sance
is something some grown-up people don’t like to have around at all.
I have wonders about things. I have sore feels in my heart and sore
feels on the back part of me. I so want to be helps to the mamma.
But it’s very hard. Why, to-day when I did run to meet her, I did
say, “It’s out.--It’s out.--I’ve got it out.” And she looked no glad
looks. She did only look looks about for a hazel bush. First one she
saw, she did take two limbs of it. All the way to the door she made
tingles on me with them. I do not think she does have knowing how
they feel--such queer sore feels. I feel she would not like their
feels.
When we were come to the door, she did tell me to stay outside. She
said I could n’t come into her house. But I did have knowing where I
could go. I went to talk with Good King Edward I and lovely Eleanor
of Castile. I did climb onto the lane fence and into the arms of
lovely Queen Eleanor. I do so like to be in her arms when things do
trouble me. She has understandings. From her arms I did go to hunt
for the soul of Peter Paul Rubens. Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil rode
in my left apron pocket and Nannerl Mozart rode in my right apron
pocket. She is a most shy mouse and does keep her nose hid. As we
did go along, I did gather gray leaves. Forty-two gray leaves I did
so gather.
Then we went on. We went on to the near woods. I had not findings
to-day for the soul of my dear Peter Paul Rubens, but I did tell the
wind that was walking in the woods to tell Peter Paul Rubens I was
come a-seeking for his soul. Then I did turn my face to the way that
does lead to the cathedral. On the way I met with Elizabeth Barrett
Browning and Brave Horatius and Isaiah. Together we did go to the
cathedral. We went unto the little tree that I have planted there
for rememberings of good John Milton, for this day is the day of
his borning in 1608. We did have prayers. It was so lonesome--Peter
Paul Rubens not being there to grunt Amen at in-between times. Brave
Horatius came near unto me when prayers were most done. He did put
his nose against my hand for a pat. I gave him two. One was for him
and one was for Peter Paul Rubens that was.
Then we all did go in the way that does lead to the singing creek
where the willows grow. When we were come, all that were with me did
stand very close by. They so did stand while I did drop the gray
leaves upon the water. All the forty-two leaves I did gather I did
drop upon the water, for this is the day of the going-away of Antoine
Van Dyck in 1641. And his years they were forty-two. When the leaves
were all upon the water I did say a little prayer, and we came home.
It was most dark-time and the lamp on the kitchen table did shine
its light out the window. And it came down the path to meet us.
* * * * *
There were pictures on the window-panes when I woke up this morning.
By-and-by the fire in the stove made the room warm, and the pictures
on the window-panes went away. I was sorry when they went away. I
so did like to look looks at them.
When I did have my breakfast, the mamma did send me to take a bucket
of something with eggs on top it to the ranch-house. The outdoors
did have coldness. It did make my fingers to have queer feels.
And my nose felt like I did n’t have any. Brave Horatius followed
after me as I did go along. As I did go along, I did see ice on the
mud-puddles. Every now and then I did stop to break the ice on the
mud-puddles. I broke the ice to see what was in the water. Under
the ice that was over the cow-tracks there was no water--only dirt,
cold and stiff, with little crystals on it.
When I was come to the ranch-house, the grandma did come to the door,
and she took the bucket of something with eggs on top it, that the
mamma did send to her. I started on to school. I did go as far as
the pump. I made a stop there. I was going to give its handle some
lift-ups and some pull-downs, so water would come out. I have likes
to see water come out of that pump. But to-day water won’t come out
of the pump. The pump-handle won’t go up and down. The grandpa said
it froze in the night. I think it has got the croup. I expect it
needs some coal-oil. I have thinks I must tend to that pump to-night.
All day here at school I now do study. For little bits of times I
do study my school-book. But most of the time I do study the books
Angel Father and Angel Mother did write in. I do study these most
every day at school. I do study the spell of the words. And after
times and before times I do sing the spelling of the words to the
gentle Jersey cow while I do ride her to pasture. And I sit in the
manger at evening-time and sing the spellings of these words to
William Shakespeare when he is come home from work in the woods.
I have thinks most of my animal friends do have knowings of the
spellings of these words. It so often is I do sing the spellings of
these words to them.
When I did come home from school to-night, I did make a stop at that
pump to see how much coal-oil it did need for its croup. But it had
no needs to be tended. The croup that it did have on this morning
was all gone. When I did give its handle some lift-ups and some
push-downs, water did come out. I watched it. It stopped coming out
when I did stop giving it lift-ups and push-downs. I went on. I saw
the black cat by the barn. On cold nights I have given that cat long
rubs on its back, and sparks have come. I did have thinks about
sparky things as I did come on home. Now I have knowings of these.
Cats are sparky--black ones on a cold night. Stoves are sparky on
cold days. Rocks are sparky--flint ones when you give them a thump.
The chore boy says some people are sparky. He does n’t know what he
is talking about.
When I was come into the house we live in, I gave the baby a gentle
thump. It squawked, but there were no sparks. Then the mamma came
in the back door. She had not knows why it squawked, but she did
tell me to mind it. I so did. The mamma went out again to the house
of Elsie. When she was gone, I did sing to the baby a new song I
did make up to-day. Most every day I do make up a song. I sing them
not when the mamma is in the house, for she does give me most hard
spankings when I do start to sing them. To-day I did teeter the baby
on the bed as she said. And more I did. I did sing to her the new
song. I did sing to her,--
“Maintenant est hiver,
Le ciel est gris,
Le champ est tranquille,
Les fleurs dorment,
Maintenant est hiver.”
Then she did kick many kicks in the air. I did tickle her toes. She
likes to have her toes tickled. She has likes for it. This baby has
likes for many things. She has likes to sit up on the bed. The mamma
has me to prop it up so it won’t fall over. And this baby--it has
likes to make bubbles with its mouth and to stick its foot in its
mouth. It does like to rattle all the rattles the grandma and Jenny
Strong and Elsie bring to it. It does have such likes to be rocked.
And most of the times when it is awake, it does want to be singed
to and carried about. It is a baby that has satisfaction looks on
its face for a little time when it gets what it wants. It only has
those satisfaction looks a little time. Soon it does have some more
wants, and it wants to have what it wants. The mamma does have me
to rock it and rock it and teeter it on the bed and walk the floor
with it. Sometimes it does get most heavy. Then I do let my knees
bend under and I do sit on the floor and rock it back and forth.
The mamma, she does have much likes for it to have what it wants.
* * * * *
I am joy all over. I have found in the near woods a plant that has
berries like the berries _symphorine_ has. And its leaves are like
the leaves symphorine has. I have had seeings of it before, and every
time I do meet with this new old plant, I do say, “I have happy
feels to see you, Symphorine.” And when the wind comes walking in
the near woods, the little leaves of symphorine do whisper little
whispers. I have thinks they are telling me they were come here
before I was come here. I make a stop to have more listens. They do
whisper, “See, petite Françoise, we were a long time come.” I can
see they were, too, because their toes have grown quite a ways down
in the ground.
To-day, as I did walk a walk to where they grow, I did tell them about
the day that it is. I told them all about this being the borning day
of Jeanne d’Albret, mère de Henri IV, in 1528. I told the year-numbers
on my fingers. I had thinks they might have remembers better if I
so told them on my fingers. I do have remembers of numbers better
when I do tell them on my fingers. Brave Horatius did stand by and
listen while I so told them. We went on.
I tied bits of bread on the tips of the branches of the trees. Too,
I tied on popcorn kernels. They looked like snow-flowers blooming
there on fir trees. I looked looks back at them. I have knows the
birds will be glad for them. Often I do bring them here for them.
When I do have hungry feels I feel the hungry feels the birds must
be having. So I do have comes to tie things on the trees for them.
Some have likes for different things. Little gray one of the black
cap has likes for suet. And other folks has likes for other things.
There is a little box in the woods that I do keep things for the
pheasants and grouses and squirrels and more little birds and
wood-mouses and wood-rats. In fall-time days Peter Paul Rubens did
come here with me when I did bring seeds and nuts to this box for
days of _hiver_. When we were come to the box, I did have more thinks
of him. I think the soul of Peter Paul Rubens is not afar. I think
it is in the forest. I go looking for it. I climb up in the trees.
I call and call. And then when I find it not, I do print a message
on a leaf, and I tie it onto the highest limb I can reach. And I
leave it there with a little prayer for Peter Paul Rubens. I do miss
him so.
To-day, after I so did leave a message on a leaf away up in a tree
for him, I did have going in along the lane and out across the
field and down the road beyond the meeting of the roads. There was
grayness everywhere--gray clouds in the sky and gray shadows above
and in the canyon. And all the voices that did speak--they were
gray tones. “Petite Françoise, c’est jour gris.” And all the little
lichens I did see along the way did seem a very part of all the
grayness. And Felix Mendelssohn in my apron pocket--he was a part
of the grayness, too. And as I did go adown the road, I did meet
with a gray horse--and his grayness was like the grayness of William
Shakespeare. Then I did turn about. I did turn my face to the near
woods where is William Shakespeare.
When Rob Ryder is n’t looking, I give to William Shakespeare pieces
of apple and I pull grass for him. He so likes a nice bit to eat
after he does pull a long pull on the logs. And while I do feed
him bits of apple and bits of grass, I do tell him poems. William
Shakespeare has likes for poems. And sometimes I do walk along by
him when he is pulling in logs and I do tell the poems to him while
he pulls. And I give his head rubs when he is tired, and his back
too. And on some Sundays when he is in the pasture I go there to
talk with him. He comes to meet me. William Shakespeare and I--we
are friends. His soul is very beautiful. The man that wears gray
neckties and is kind to mice says he is a dear old horse.