A CABIN PARTY
There was nothing in the Arnolds’ sitting-room that January morning
to remind Berry of a schoolroom unless it was the little brass bell
that stood on the table beside which Mr. Arnold sat. Berry was so
much in advance of Mollie in the usual school lessons that her father
realized it would be difficult to teach the two little girls at the
same time. The slate Berry had used in the village school in Vermont,
and a box of slate pencils lay on the table, and a large atlas, opened
at a good-sized map of the United States, was spread out beside it.
While Mr. Arnold intended that Berry should have a proper knowledge of
grammar and mathematics, he felt that she should understand something
of the government under which she lived; and this morning he called
the girls to look at the map of the United States, thinking it a good
plan for both the girls to learn the names and location of the various
states of the Union.
“Where’s Shiloh?” questioned Mollie, gazing wonderingly at the
brightly colored spaces on the map which Mr. Arnold pointed out as the
different states of the Union.
“Poor little Shiloh isn’t even a village, Mollie; it is only the name
of a log church on a mountain ridge in Tennessee,” he responded. But
before the year 1862 ended Shiloh was known all through the country as
the name of the place of one of the most terrific battles of the Civil
War and had become an historic spot.
“Here is Tennessee,” continued Mr. Arnold; “and this blue line is
the Tennessee River. Along here,” and with a pencil he pointed out
the course of the broad stream, “it sweeps for many miles along the
boundary line of Alabama, then turns northerly, in this great curve,
and flows past Fort Henry, and pours its waters into the Ohio River.
Right here is Pittsburg Landing.”
Both the little girls exclaimed at this familiar name; for Pittsburg
Landing was not many miles distant, and was the point where the river
steamers landed freight for Corinth, eighteen miles distant.
Before the morning lesson hours were over Mollie had learned that
Washington was the capital of the United States, where laws for the
government of the Union were made. That the terrible war between the
Southern and Northern States, with Francis Arnold in the Northern
army and Len Bragg with the Southern troops, meant that the South
wished to “secede,” to leave the Union, and form a new government. If
the Northern armies won, the negroes would be freed, and the North
and South remain a united nation. If the South conquered the North,
slavery would continue, and there would be two separate governments.
“My Pa says the South will win,” Mollie announced. “He says they beat
the Yankees at Bull Run,” she continued.
“Yes, the Southern troops are valiant fighters,” Mr. Arnold agreed;
for he never forgot that the Union had been formed by South and North
alike, and he hoped earnestly for a peace that would again unite them
in a firm and lasting friendship.
Then, while Berry was learning the rules of a lesson in algebra,
Mollie happily began her first effort in writing. The slate and
pencil seemed a wonderful thing to the little mountain girl, and she
patiently endeavored to copy the lines and letters that Mr. Arnold
traced for her.
The clock struck twelve, and Mr. Arnold again tinkled the small brass
bell, and said smilingly, “Pupils are expected to be in the schoolroom
at ten sharp to-morrow morning.” As he finished speaking the door into
the kitchen opened and Mrs. Arnold said:
“This is Mollie’s birthday dinner party, so she must lead the way to
the table.”
“O-ooh!” Mollie whispered softly to herself, a little flush creeping
over her thin face as Berry gave her a gentle push toward the kitchen,
where the round table was spread for four, and where Mollie’s chair
held the newspaper bundle containing the doll.
Mollie Bragg always remembered her eleventh birthday; and she always
treasured the cloth doll, the only one she ever owned, and which she
at once named “Mrs. Arnold.” There were broiled partridge for dinner,
that Mr. Arnold had shot in the ravine two days before; and baked
potatoes; there were spiced pears, that Mrs. Arnold had put up the
previous autumn; and crisp hot rolls and steaming chocolate, a great
luxury. And then a marvelous thing happened.
When Mollie believed that the dinner was quite over, and was again
holding “Mrs. Arnold,” and almost too happy to believe in so much good
fortune, Mrs. Arnold went to the pantry and came back bringing a round
white-frosted cake, on which stood eleven tiny pink lighted candles.
“O-o-ooh!” again murmured Mollie, as Mrs. Arnold set this wonderful
creation in front of her little guest.
“Your birthday cake, Mollie! Wish! Wish for something splendid. Then
try to blow all the candles out with one breath, like this,” and Berry
puffed out her cheeks and blew so strongly that the little flames
wavered. “If all the candle flames go out your wish will come true
before your next birthday,” Berry concluded earnestly.
Mollie promptly obeyed Berry’s directions, with such good success that
every tiny flame was extinguished.
“Goody! Goody! But you mustn’t tell your wish until next birthday,”
cautioned Berry, running around the table and carefully removing the
candles from the cake. They were the same candles that had been used
on Berry’s own cake on her eleventh birthday in October, and they
were now carefully put away. For who could tell when it would again
be possible to purchase wax candles?
Then Mrs. Arnold helped Mollie cut the cake, and at the first taste
Mollie smiled more radiantly than ever, but quickly put the piece back
on her plate.
“Don’t you like it, Mollie?” Berry asked anxiously.
“It’s beautiful!” Mollie replied soberly; “but I’m goin’ ter take it
home ter Ma. May I?” she added, a little doubtfully.
“The whole cake is yours, Mollie dear. But you must eat the first
piece yourself,” Mrs. Arnold said quickly; “you are to take the
remainder home.”
Mollie drew a long breath. “I reckon my Ma never tasted a birthday
cake,” she said soberly.
After dinner was over and Mollie had seen Mrs. Arnold put the cake
carefully into a small basket, which she told the little girl she was
to carry home, Berry and Mollie went back to the sitting-room; and
Berry brought out her own two fine dolls, which had heads of china
with black curls painted on them, and were dressed in white muslin
and wore sashes of blue silk. Berry had brought these dolls from
Vermont, and one was named Josephine Maria, for Berry’s Grandmother
Arnold, who had given the dolls to Berry, and the other was called
Maria Josephine. “Then, you see, neither one can be the favorite,”
Berry explained, as she set the dolls side by side in her father’s big
chair. “Now let’s play it’s a real party; my dolls and your doll can
be ‘real’ girls, and we’ll talk for them,” she continued.
Mollie nodded with smiling delight, and for an hour or more the two
little friends and their dolls played happily. But as the clock struck
three Mollie announced that she must start for home.
“It gets shadowy and kinder fearsome in the woods come late
afternoon,” she said, “and my Pa says that niggers are runnin’ off
every little while, and maybe are hid up in the woods; so I’d be
skeered to go home late.”
“Don’t be afraid of any poor colored man or woman who might be coming
over the ridge, Mollie,” said Mrs. Arnold gently.
“You mean niggers?” questioned the little girl; and then added
quickly, “Oh, Mrs. Arnold! I never knew how grand it would be to be
eleven years old, and have a birthday cake, and a doll, and a dress!”
And she looked from one gift to another with so radiant a face that
Mrs. Arnold felt well rewarded for her friendly efforts for her small
neighbor’s happiness. Berry had slipped on her cap and coat and was
ready to go part of the way home with Mollie. Just as they had started
Mollie suddenly turned back, and running to Mrs. Arnold she looked up
at her and said earnestly, “I been tryin’ to say ‘thank you.’ But
’tain’t enough to say, fer all you give me. ’Tain’t enuff jes’ ter
say, ‘Thank you!’”
“Indeed it is enough, dear Mollie,” responded Mrs. Arnold, leaning
down to kiss the little face now flushed with the joy of her happy
birthday.
Mrs. Arnold stood in the doorway of the cabin and watched the two
little girls until the forest shut them from view. The snow had all
vanished, the winter sun still shone warmly above the tree-tops, and
only the caws of a passing flock of crows disturbed the perfect quiet
of the scene.