Who’s been giving you an inch, that you take so many “l’s”? Or is father
putting an “L” to his house, or some great “LL. D.” been dining there,
or what is the matter, that about every “l” in your letter comes double?
I wouldn’t spell “painful” with two “l’s” if the pain was ever so bad.
But I know. You are thinking about Billy and the good times we are
having. Aunt Phebe says you might have come too, just as well as not;
for her family is so big, three or four more don’t make a mite of
difference.
We got here last night. Billy’s grandmother’s a brick. She took Billy
right in her arms, and I do believe she cried for being glad, behind her
spectacles. His sister is full as pretty as you. Billy brought her a
round comb. Aunt Phebe’s little Tommy’s as fat as butter. He sat and
sucked his thumb and stared, till Billy held out a whistle to him, and
then he walked up and took it, as sober as a judge.
“And I’ve brought you something, Grandmother,” says Billy.
He went out and brought in a bandbox tied up. I wondered, coming in the
cars, what he had got tied up in that bandbox. He out with his
jack-knife, and cut the strings, and took out--have you guessed yet? Of
course you haven’t,--took out a new cap like grandma’s. He stuck his
fist in it, and turned it round and round, to let her see it.
“Now sit down,” says he, “and we’ll try it on.”
She wouldn’t, but he made her.
“Come here, Dorry,” says he, “and see which is the front side of this.”
When her old cap was pulled off, there was her gray hair all soft and
crinkly. He got the cap part way on.
“You tip it down too much,” says I.
“We’ll turn it round,” says he.
“’T is upside down,” said Billy’s father.
“Now ’t is one-sided,” says Uncle J., “like the colt’s blinders.”
“’T was never meant for my head,” says Grandmother.
“Send for Phebe,” says Uncle J.
[Illustration]
But “Phebe” was coming. There was a great chattering outside, and the
door opened, and in came Aunt Phebe, laughing, and her three great girls
laughing too, with their red cheeks, and their great braids of hair tied
up in red bow-knots of ribbon. And they all went to kissing Billy.
And then says Aunt Phebe, “What in the world are you doing to your
grandmother? A regular milliner’s cap, if I breathe! Well done,
Grandmother! Here, let me give it a twist. It’s hind side before. What
do boys know? or men either? What are all these kinds of strings for?”
“The great ones to hang down, and the little ones to tie up,” says
Billy.
The girls stood by to pick the bows apart, and fuzz up the ruffles where
they were smashed in; and Billy’s father and Uncle Jacob, they sat and
laughed.
Grandmother couldn’t help herself, but she kept saying, “Now, Phebe!
now, girls! now, Billy!”
“And now, grandmother!” says Aunt Phebe. “There! fold your hands
together. Don’t lean back hard, ’t will jam easy. Now see, girls! Isn’t
she a beauty?” And, Maggie, I do believe she’s the prettiest grandmother
there is going. Her face is just as round and smiling!
“Now sit still, Grandmother,” said Aunt Phebe. And she winked to the
girls, and they whisked two tables up together, spread on the cloth, set
on the dishes; then out into the entry, and brought in great loaves of
plum-cake, and pies and doughnuts, and set out the table,--all done
while you’d be tying your shoe. Then they set a row of lights along the
middle, and we all sat round,--Grandmother at the head, and Aunt
Phebe’s little Tommy in his high chair; and I’ll tell you what, if these
are poor mince-pies, I hope I shall never see any good ones.
“Why didn’t you have some fried eggs?” said Uncle Jacob.
“Now did anybody ever hear the like?” said Aunt Phebe. “Fried eggs! when
they’re shedding their feathers, and it takes seventy-six fowls to lay a
dozen, and every egg is worth its weight in currency! Better ask why we
don’t have cranberry sauce!”
“There!” says Uncle J. “I declare, if I didn’t forget that errand, after
all!”
“When I told you to keep saying over ‘Cranberries, cranberries,’ all the
way going along!” says Aunt Phebe.
“They would ’a’ set my teeth on edge before I got to Ne’miah’s corner,”
said Uncle J. “The very thoughts of ’em is enough. Lucy Maria, please to
pass that frosted cake. I declare, I’m sorry I forgot that errand.”
For all we were so hungry, there was a great deal left, and I was glad
to see it going into Billy’s buttery. Billy says it’s just like his aunt
Phebe to come to supper, and make that an excuse to bring enough to last
a week, to save Grandmother steps.
I do like to stay where folks are jolly. They keep me a-laughing; and as
for Bubby Short, his little black eyes have settled themselves into a
twinkle, and there they stay. I never had such a good time in my life.
From your same old brother,