Shows how Mr. Van Brunt could be sharp upon some things.
To Ellen's sorrow, she was pronounced next morning well enough
to come downstairs; her aunt averring that "it was no use to
keep a fire burning up there for nothing." She must get up and
dress in the cold, again; and winter had fairly set in now;
the 19th of December rose clear and keen. Ellen looked
sighingly at the heap of ashes and the dead brands in the
fireplace, where the bright little fire had blazed so
cheerfully the evening before. But regrets did not help the
matter, and shivering she began to dress as fast as she could.
Since her illness, a basin and pitcher had been brought into
her room, so the washing at the spout was ended for the
present; and, though the basin had no place but a chair, and
the pitcher must stand on the floor, Ellen thought herself too
happy. But how cold it was! The wind swept past her windows,
giving wintry shakes to the panes of glass, and through many
an opening in the wooden framework of the house it came in and
saluted Ellen's bare arms and neck. She hurried to finish her
dressing, and wrapping her double-gown over all, went down to
the kitchen. It was another climate there. A great fire was
burning, that it quite cheered Ellen's heart to look at; and
the air seemed to be full of coffee and buckwheat cakes; Ellen
almost thought she should get enough breakfast by the sense of
smell.
"Ah! here you are," said Miss Fortune. "What have you got that
thing on for?"
"It was so cold up-stairs," said Ellen, drawing up her
shoulders. The warmth had not got inside of her wrapper yet.
"Well, 'tain't cold here; you'd better pull it off right away.
I've no notion of people's making themselves tender. You'll be
warm enough directly. Breakfast'll warm you."
Ellen felt almost inclined to quarrel with the breakfast that
was offered in exchange for her comfortable wrapper; she
pulled it off, however, and sat down without saying anything.
Mr. Van Brunt put some cakes on her plate.
"If breakfast's agoing to warm you," said he, "make haste and
get something down; or drink a cup of coffee you're as blue
as skim milk."
"Am I?" said Ellen, laughing; "I feel blue, but I can't eat
such a pile of cakes as that, Mr. Van Brunt."
As a general thing, the meals at Miss Fortune's were silent
solemnities; an occasional consultation, or a few questions
and remarks about farm affairs, being all that ever passed.
The breakfast this morning was a singular exception to the
common rule.
"I am in a regular quandary," said the mistress of the house,
when the meal was about half over.
Mr. Van Brunt looked up for an instant, and asked, "what
about?"
"Why, how I am ever going to do to get those apples and
sausage-meat done? If I go to doing 'em myself, I shall about
get through by spring."
"Why don't you make a bee?" said Mr. Van Brunt.
"Ain't enough of either on 'em to make it worth while. I ain't
agoing to have all the bother of a bee without some thing to
show for't."
"Turn'em both into one," suggested her counsellor, going on
with his breakfast.
"Both?"
"Yes let'em pare apples in one room and cut pork in
t'other."
"But I wonder who ever heard of such a thing before," said
Miss Fortune, pausing with her cup of coffee half-way to her
lips. Presently, however, it was carried to her mouth, drunk
off, and set down with an air of determination.
"I don't care," said she, "if it never was heard of. I'll do
it for once anyhow. I'm not one of them to care what folks
say. I'll have it so! But I won't have 'em to tea, mind you
I'd rather throw apples and all into the fire at once. I'll
have but one plague of setting tables, and that. I won't have
'em to tea. I'll make it up to 'em in the supper, though."
"I'll take care to publish that," said Mr. Van Brunt.
"Don't you go and do such a thing," said Miss Fortune,
earnestly. "I shall have the whole country on my hands. I
won't have but just as many on 'em as'll do what I want done;
that'll be as much as I can stand under. Don't you whisper a
word of it to a living creature. I'll go round and ask 'em
myself to come Monday evening."
"Monday evening; then I suppose you'd like to have up the
sleigh this afternoon. Who's acoming?"
"I don't know; I han't asked 'em yet."
"They'll every soul come that's asked that you may depend;
there ain't one on 'em that would miss of it for a dollar."
Miss Fortune bridled a little at the implied tribute to her
housekeeping.
"If I was some folks, I wouldn't let people know I was in such
a mighty hurry to get a good supper," she observed, rather
scornfully.
"Humph!" said Mr. Van Brunt; "I think a good supper ain't a
bad thing, and I've no objection to folk's knowing it."
"Pshaw! I didn't mean _you_," said Miss Fortune; "I was thinking
of those Lawsons, and other folks."
"If you're agoing to ask _them_ to your bee, you ain't of my
mind."
"Well, I am, though," replied Miss Fortune; "there's a good
many hands of 'em; they can turn off a good lot of work in an
evening; and they always take care to get me to _their_ bees. I
may as well get something out of them in return, if I can."
"They'll reckon on getting as much as they can get o' _you_, if
they come, there's no sort of doubt in my mind. It's my belief
Mimy Lawson will kill herself some of these days upon green
corn. She was at home to tea one day last summer, and I
declare I thought "
What Mr. Van Brunt thought he left his hearers to guess.
"Well, let them kill themselves if they like," said Miss
Fortune; "I am sure I am willing; there'll be enough; I ain't
agoing to mince matters when once I begin. Now, let me see.
There's five of the Lawsons to begin with I suppose they'll
all come Bill Huff and Jany, that's seven "
"That Bill Huff is as good-natured a fellow as ever broke
ground," remarked Mr. Van Brunt. "Ain't better people in the
town than them Huffs are."
"They're well enough," said Miss Fortune. "Seven and the
Hitchcocks, there's three of them, that'll make ten "
"Dennison's ain't far from there," said Mr. Van Brunt. "Dan
Dennison's a fine hand at a'most anything, in-doors or out."
"That's more than you can say for his sister. Cilly Dennison
gives herself so many airs, it's altogether too much for plain
country folks. I should like to know what she thinks herself.
It's a'most too much for my stomach to see her flourishing
that watch and chain."
"What's the use of troubling yourself about other people's
notions?" said Mr. Van Brunt. "If folks want to take the road,
let them have it. That's my way. I am satisfied, provided they
don't run me over."
" 'Tain't my way, then, I'd have you to know," said Miss
Fortune; "I despise it! And 'tain't your way, neither, Van
Brunt; what did you give Tom Larkens a cowhiding for?"
" 'Cause he deserved it, if ever a man did," said Mr. Van
Brunt, quite rousing up; "he was treating that little brother
of his'n in a way a boy shouldn't be treated; and I am glad I
did it. I gave him notice to quit before I laid a finger on
him. He warn't doing nothing to _me_."
"And how much good do you suppose it did?" said Miss Fortune,
rather scornfully.
"It did just the good I wanted to do. He has seen fit to let
little Billy alone ever since."
"Well, I guess I'll let the Dennisons come," said Miss
Fortune; "that makes twelve and you and your mother are
fourteen. I suppose that man Marshchalk will come dangling
along after the Hitchcocks."
"To be sure he will; and his aunt, Miss Janet, will come with
him, most likely."
"Well there's no help for it," said Miss Fortune. "That
makes sixteen."
"Will you ask Miss Alice?"
"Not I; she's another of your proud set. I don't want to see
anybody that thinks she's going to do me a great favour by
coming."
Ellen's lips opened, but wisdom came in time to stop the words
that were on her tongue. It did not, however, prevent the
quick little turn of her head, which showed what she thought,
and the pale cheeks were for a moment bright enough.
"She is, and I don't care who hears it," repeated Miss
Fortune. "I suppose she'd look as sober as a judge, too, if
she saw cider on the table; they say she won't touch a drop
ever, and thinks it's wicked; and if that ain't setting one's
self up for better than other folks, I don't know what is."
"I saw her paring apples at the Huffs', though," said Mr. Van
Brunt, "and as pleasant as anybody; but she didn't stay to
supper."
"I'd ask Mrs. Vawse, if I could get word to her," said Miss
Fortune; "but I can never travel up that mountain. If I get a
sight of Nancy, I'll tell her."
"There she is, then," said Mr. Van Brunt, looking towards the
little window that opened into the shed. And there, indeed,
was the face of Miss Nancy pressed flat against the glass,
peering into the room! Miss Fortune beckoned to her.
"That is the most impudent, shameless, outrageous piece of .
What were you doing at the window?" said she as Nancy came in.
"Looking at you, Miss Fortune," said Nancy coolly. "What have
you been talking about, this great while? If there had only
been a pane of glass broken, I needn't have asked."
"Hold your tongue," said Miss Fortune, "and listen to me."
"I'll listen, Maam," said Nancy; "but it's no use to hold my
tongue. I do try sometimes, but I never could keep it long."
"Have you done?"
"I don't know, Maam," said Nancy, shaking her head; "it's
just as it happens."
"You tell your granny I am going to have a bee here next
Monday evening, and ask her if she'll come to it."
Nancy nodded. "If it's good weather," she added,
conditionally.
"Stop, Nancy!" said Miss Fortune "here!" for Nancy was
shutting the door behind her. "As sure as you come here
Monday night without your grandma, you'll go out of the house
quicker than you come in; see if you don't!"
With another gracious nod and smile, Nancy departed.
"Well," said Mr. Van Brunt, rising, "I'll despatch this
business down-stairs, and then I'll bring up the sleigh. The
pickle's ready, I suppose."
"No, it ain't," said Miss Fortune, "I couldn't make it
yesterday; but it's all in the kettle, and I told Sam to make
a fire down-stairs, so you can put it on when you do down. The
kits are all ready, and the salt, and everything else."
Mr. Van Brunt went down the stairs that led to the lower
kitchen; and Miss Fortune, to make up for lost time, set about
her morning's work with even an uncommon measure of activity.
Ellen, in consideration of her being still weak, was not
required to do anything. She sat and looked on, keeping out of
the way of her bustling aunt as far as it was possible; but
Miss Fortune's gyrations were of that character, that no one
could tell five minutes beforehand what she might consider "in
the way." Ellen wished for her quiet room again. Mr. Van
Brunt's voice sounded downstairs in tones of business; what
could he be about? it must be very uncommon business that kept
him in the house. Ellen grew restless with the desire to go
and see, and to change her aunt's company for his; and no
sooner was Miss Fortune fairly shut up in the buttery at some
secret work, than Ellen gently opened the door at the head of
the lower stairs, and looked down. Mr. Van Brunt was standing
at the bottom, and looked up.
"May I come down there, Mr. Van Brunt?" said Ellen, softly.
"Come down here? to be sure you may! You may always come
straight where I am, without asking any questions."
Ellen went down. But before she reached the lowest step she
stopped with almost a start, and stood fixed with such a
horrified face, that neither Mr. Van Brunt nor Sam Larkens,
who was there, could help laughing.
"What's the matter?" said the former "they're all dead
enough, Miss Ellen; you needn't be scared."
Three enormous hogs, which had been killed the day before,
greeted Ellen's eyes. They lay in different parts of the room,
with each a cob in his mouth. A fourth lay stretched upon his
back on the kitchen table, which was drawn out into the middle
of the floor. Ellen stood fast on the stair.
"Have they been killed!" was her first astonished exclamation,
to which Sam responded with another burst.
"Be quiet, Sam Larkens!" said Mr. Van Brunt. "Yes, Miss Ellen,
they've been killed, sure enough."
"Are these the same pigs I used to see you feeding with corn,
Mr. Van Brunt?"
"The identical same ones," replied that gentleman, as, laying
hold of the head of the one on the table, and applying his
long sharp knife with the other hand, he, while he was
speaking, severed it neatly and quickly from the trunk. "And
very fine porkers they are; I ain't ashamed of 'em."
"And what's going to be done with them now?" said Ellen.
"I am just going to cut them up and lay them down. You never
see nothing of the kind before, did you?"
"No," said Ellen. "What do you mean by 'laying them down,' Mr.
Van Brunt?"
"Why, laying 'em down in salt for pork and hams. You want to
see the whole operation, don't you? Well, here's a seat for
you. You'd better fetch that painted coat o' yourn and wrap
round you, for it ain't quite so warm here as up-stairs; but
it's getting warmer. Sam, just you shut that door to, and
throw on another log."
Sam built up as large a fire as could be made under a very
large kettle that hung in the chimney. When Ellen came down in
her wrapper, she was established close in the chimney corner;
and when Mr. Van Brunt, not thinking her quite safe from the
keen currents of air that would find their way into the room,
despatched Sam for an old buffalo robe that lay in the shed.
This he himself with great care wrapped round her, feet and
chair and all, and secured it in various places with old
forks. He declared then she looked for all the world like an
Indian, except her face; and, in high good-humour both, he
went to cutting up the pork, and Ellen from out of her buffalo
robe watched him.
It was beautifully done. Even Ellen could see that, although
she could not have known if it had been done ill. The knife,
guided by strength and skill, seemed to go with the greatest
ease and certainty just where he wished it; the hams were
beautifully trimmed out; the pieces fashioned clean; no ragged
cutting; and his quick-going knife disposed of carcass after
carcass with admirable neatness and celerity. Sam meanwhile
arranged the pieces in different parcels at his direction, and
minded the kettle, in which a great boiling and scumming was
going on. Ellen was too much amused for a while to ask any
questions. When the cutting up was all done, the hams and
shoulders were put in a cask by themselves, and Mr. Van Brunt
began to pack down the other pieces in the kits, strewing them
with an abundance of salt.
"What's the use of putting all that salt with the pork, Mr.
Van Brunt?" said Ellen.
"It wouldn't keep good without that; it would spoil very
quick."
"Will the salt make it keep?"
"All the year round as sweet as a nut."
"I wonder what is the reason of that," said Ellen. "Will salt
make everything keep good?"
"Everything in the world if it only has enough of it, and is
kept dry and cool."
"Are you going to do the hams in the same way?"
"No; they're to go in that pickle over the fire."
"In this kettle? what is in it?" said Ellen.
"You must ask Miss Fortune about that; sugar, and salt, and
saltpetre, and molasses, and I don't know what all."
"And will this make the hams so different from the rest of the
pork?"
"No; they've got to be smoked after they have laid in that for
a while."
"Smoked!" said Ellen; "how?"
"Why, han't you been in the smoke-house? The hams has to be
taken out of the pickle and hung up there! and then we make a
little fire of oak chips, and keep it burning night and day."
"And how long must they stay in the smoke?"
"Oh, three or four weeks or so."
"And then they are done?"
"Then they are done."
"How very curious?" said Ellen. "Then it's the smoke that
gives them that nice taste? I never knew smoke was good for
anything before."
"Ellen!" said the voice of Miss Fortune, from the top of the
stairs "come right up here, this minute! you'll catch your
death!"
Ellen's countenance fell.
"There's no sort of fear of that, Maam," said Mr. Van Brunt,
quietly; "and Miss Ellen is fastened up so, she can't get
loose; and I can't let her out just now."
The upper door was shut again pretty sharply, but that was the
only audible expression of opinion with which Miss Fortune
favoured them.
"I guess my leather curtains keep off the wind, don't they?"
said Mr. Van Brunt.
"Yes, indeed they do," said Ellen; "I don't feel a breath; I
am as warm as a toast too warm, almost. How nicely you have
fixed me up, Mr. Van Brunt!"
"I thought that 'ere old buffalo had done its work," he said;
"but I'll never say anything is good for nothing again. Have
you found out where the apples are, yet?"
"No," said Ellen.
"Han't Miss Fortune showed you? Well, it's time you'd know.
Sam, take that little basket and go fill it at the bin; I
guess you know where they be, for I believe you put 'em
there."
Sam went into the cellar, and presently returned with the
basket nicely filled. He handed it to Ellen.
"Are all these for me?" she said in surprise.
"Every one on 'em," said Mr. Van Brunt.
"But I don't like to," said Ellen; "what will Aunt Fortune
say?"
"She won't say a word," said Mr. Van Brunt; "and don't you say
a word neither, but whenever you want apples, just go to the
bin and take 'em. I give you leave. It's right at the end of
the far cellar, at the left-hand corner; there are the bins
and all sorts of apples in 'em. You've got a pretty variety
there, han't you?"
"Oh! all sorts," said Ellen "and what beauties! and I love
apples very much red, and yellow, and speckled, and green
what a great monster!"
"That's a Swar; that ain't as good as most of the others;
those are Seek-no-furthers."
"Seek-no-further!" said Ellen; "what a funny name. It ought to
be a mighty good apple. _I_ shall seek no further, at any rate.
What is this?"
"That's as good an apple as you've got in the basket; that's a
real Orson pippin a very fine kind. I'll fetch you some up
from home some day, though, that are better than the best of
these."
The pork was all packed; the kettle was lifted off the fire;
Mr. Van Brunt was wiping his hands from the salt.
"And now, I suppose I must go," said Ellen, with a little
sigh.
"Why, _I_ must go," said he; "so I suppose I may as well let you
out of your tent first."
"I have had such a nice time," said Ellen; "I had got so tired
of doing nothing up-stairs. I am _very_ much obliged to you, Mr.
Van Brunt. But," said she, stopping as she had taken up her
basket to go, "aren't you going to put the hams in the
pickle?"
"No," said he, laughing, "it must wait to get cold first. But
you'll make a capital farmer's wife, there's no mistake."
Ellen blushed, and ran up stairs with her apples. To bestow
them safely in her closet was her first care; the rest of the
morning was spent in increasing weariness and listlessness.
She had brought down her little hymn-book, thinking to amuse
herself with learning a hymn, but it would not do; eyes and
head both refused their part of the work; and when at last Mr.
Van Brunt came in to a late dinner, he found Ellen seated flat
on the hearth before the fire, her right arm curled round the
hard wooden bottom of one of the chairs, and her head pillowed
upon that, fast asleep.
"Bless my soul!" said Mr. Van Brunt, "what's become of that
'ere rocking-cheer?"
"It's upstairs, I suppose. You can fetch it if you've a mind
to," answered Miss Fortune, drily enough.
He did so immediately; and Ellen barely waked up to feel
herself lifted from the floor, and placed in the friendly
rocking-chair; Mr. Van Brunt remarking, at the same time, that
"it might be well enough to let well folks lie on the floor
and sleep on cheers, but cushions warn't a bit too soft for
sick ones."
Among the cushions Ellen went to sleep again with a much
better prospect of rest; and either sleeping or dozing, passed
away the time for a good while.