THE TOOTHACRE COTTAGE
Aunt Roxy and Aunt Ruey Toothacre lived in a little one-story
gambrel-roofed cottage, on the side of Harpswell Bay, just at the head
of the long cove which we have already described. The windows on two
sides commanded the beautiful bay and the opposite shores, and on the
other they looked out into the dense forest, through whose deep shadows
of white birch and pine the silver rise and fall of the sea daily
revealed itself.
The house itself was a miracle of neatness within, for the two thrifty
sisters were worshipers of soap and sand, and these two tutelary deities
had kept every board of the house-floor white and smooth, and also every
table and bench and tub of household use. There was a sacred care over
each article, however small and insignificant, which composed their
slender household stock. The loss or breakage of one of them would have
made a visible crack in the hearts of the worthy sisters,--for every
plate, knife, fork, spoon, cup, or glass was as intimate with them, as
instinct with home feeling, as if it had a soul; each defect or spot had
its history, and a cracked dish or article of furniture received as
tender and considerate medical treatment as if it were capable of
understanding and feeling the attention.
It was now a warm, spicy day in June,--one of those which bring out the
pineapple fragrance from the fir-shoots, and cause the spruce and
hemlocks to exude a warm, resinous perfume. The two sisters, for a
wonder, were having a day to themselves, free from the numerous calls
of the vicinity for twelve miles round. The room in which they were
sitting was bestrewn with fragments of dresses and bonnets, which were
being torn to pieces in a most wholesale way, with a view to a general
rejuvenescence. A person of unsympathetic temperament, and disposed to
take sarcastic views of life, might perhaps wonder what possible object
these two battered and weather-beaten old bodies proposed to themselves
in this process,--whether Miss Roxy's gaunt black-straw helmet, which
she had worn defiantly all winter, was likely to receive much lustre
from being pressed over and trimmed with an old green ribbon which that
energetic female had colored black by a domestic recipe; and whether
Miss Roxy's rusty bombazette would really seem to the world any fresher
for being ripped, and washed, and turned, for the second or third time,
and made over with every breadth in a different situation. Probably
after a week of efficient labor, busily expended in bleaching, dyeing,
pressing, sewing, and ripping, an unenlightened spectator, seeing them
come into the meeting-house, would simply think, "There are those two
old frights with the same old things on they have worn these fifty
years." Happily the weird sisters were contentedly ignorant of any such
remarks, for no duchesses could have enjoyed a more quiet belief in
their own social position, and their semi-annual spring and fall
rehabilitation was therefore entered into with the most simple-hearted
satisfaction.
"I'm a-thinkin', Roxy," said Aunt Ruey, considerately turning and
turning on her hand an old straw bonnet, on which were streaked all the
marks of the former trimming in lighter lines, which revealed too
clearly the effects of wind and weather,--"I'm a-thinkin' whether or no
this 'ere mightn't as well be dyed and done with it as try to bleach it
out. I've had it ten years last May, and it's kind o' losin' its
freshness, you know. I don't believe these 'ere streaks will bleach
out."
"Never mind, Ruey," said Miss Roxy, authoritatively, "I'm goin' to do
Mis' Badger's leg'orn, and it won't cost nothin'; so hang your'n in the
barrel along with it,--the same smoke'll do 'em both. Mis' Badger she
finds the brimstone, and next fall you can put it in the dye when we do
the yarn."
"That ar straw is a beautiful straw!" said Miss Ruey, in a plaintive
tone, tenderly examining the battered old head-piece,--"I braided every
stroke on it myself, and I don't know as I could do it ag'in. My fingers
ain't quite so limber as they was! I don't think I shall put green
ribbon on it ag'in; 'cause green is such a color to ruin, if a body gets
caught out in a shower! There's these green streaks come that day I left
my amberil at Captain Broad's, and went to meetin'. Mis' Broad she says
to me, 'Aunt Ruey, it won't rain.' And says I to her, 'Well, Mis' Broad,
I'll try it; though I never did leave my amberil at home but what it
rained.' And so I went, and sure enough it rained cats and dogs, and
streaked my bonnet all up; and them ar streaks won't bleach out, I'm
feared."
"How long is it Mis' Badger has had that ar leg'orn?"
"Why, you know, the Cap'n he brought it home when he came from his
voyage from Marseilles. That ar was when Phebe Ann was born, and she's
fifteen year old. It was a most elegant thing when he brought it; but I
think it kind o' led Mis' Badger on to extravagant ways,--for gettin'
new trimmin' spring and fall so uses up money as fast as new bonnets;
but Mis' Badger's got the money, and she's got a right to use it if she
pleases; but if I'd a-had new trimmin's spring and fall, I shouldn't
a-put away what I have in the bank."
"Have you seen the straw Sally Kittridge is braidin' for Mara Lincoln's
weddin' bonnet?" said Miss Ruey. "It's jist the finest thing ever you
did see,--and the whitest. I was a-tellin' Sally that I could do as well
once myself, but my mantle was a-fallin' on her. Sally don't seem to act
a bit like a disap'inted gal. She is as chipper as she can be about
Mara's weddin', and seems like she couldn't do too much. But laws,
everybody seems to want to be a-doin' for her. Miss Emily was a-showin'
me a fine double damask tablecloth that she was goin' to give her; and
Mis' Pennel, she's been a-spinnin' and layin' up sheets and towels and
tablecloths all her life,--and then she has all Naomi's things. Mis'
Pennel was talkin' to me the other day about bleachin' 'em out 'cause
they'd got yellow a-lyin'. I kind o' felt as if 'twas unlucky to be
a-fittin' out a bride with her dead mother's things, but I didn't like
to say nothin'."
"Ruey," said Miss Roxy impressively, "I hain't never had but jist one
mind about Mara Lincoln's weddin',--it's to be,--but it won't be the way
people think. I hain't nussed and watched and sot up nights sixty years
for nothin'. I can see beyond what most folks can,--her weddin' garments
is bought and paid for, and she'll wear 'em, but she won't be Moses
Pennel's wife,--now you see."
"Why, whose wife will she be then?" said Miss Ruey; "'cause that ar Mr.
Adams is married. I saw it in the paper last week when I was up to Mis'
Badger's."
Miss Roxy shut her lips with oracular sternness and went on with her
sewing.
"Who's that comin' in the back door?" said Miss Ruey, as the sound of a
footstep fell upon her ear. "Bless me," she added, as she started up to
look, "if folks ain't always nearest when you're talkin' about 'em. Why,
Mara; you come down here and catched us in all our dirt! Well now, we're
glad to see you, if we be," said Miss Ruey.