curious sound in the house,--a muffled sort of moan, coming at regular
intervals. And, as I sat up to make out where it was, another sound
caught my attentive ear. Drip, drip, drip, went something out in the
hall, and in an instant the tale told me on Sunset Hill came back with
unpleasant vividness.
"Nonsense! it is raining, and the roof leaks," I said to myself, while a
disagreeable thrill went through me, and fancy, aided by indigestion,
began to people the house with uncanny inmates.
No rain had fallen for weeks, and peeping through my curtain I saw the
big, bright stars shining in a cloudless sky; so that explanation
failed, and still the drip, drip, drip went on. Likewise the moaning, so
distinctly now that it was evident the little back bedroom was next the
chamber in which I was quaking at that identical moment.
"Some one is sleeping there," I said, and then recollected that all the
rooms were locked, and all the keys but mine in Mrs. Grant's pocket up
at the house.
"Well, let the goblins enjoy themselves; I won't disturb them if they
let me alone. Some of the ladies thought me brave to dare to sleep here,
and it will never do to own I was scared by a foolish story and an odd
sound."
So down I lay, and said the multiplication table industriously for
several minutes, trying to turn a deaf ear to the outer world, and curb
my unruly thoughts. But it was a failure, and, when I found myself
saying over and over "Four times twelve is twenty-four," I gave up
affecting courage, and went in for a good honest scare.
As a cheerful subject for midnight meditation I kept thinking of B.
Tucker, in spite of every effort to abstain. In vain I recalled the fact
that the departed gentleman was "allers civil to the ladies." I still
was in mortal fear lest he might think it necessary to come and
apologize in person for "bothering" me.
Presently a clock struck three, and I involuntarily gave a groan that
beat the ghost's all hollow, so full of anguish was I at the thought of
several hours of weary waiting in such awesome suspense.
I was not sure at what time the daylight would appear, and bitterly
regretted not gathering useful information about sunrise, tides, and
such things, instead of listening to the foolish gossip of Uncle Peter
on the hill-top.
Minute after minute dragged slowly on, and I was just thinking that I
should be obliged to shout "Fire!" as the only means of relief in my
power, when a stealthy step under the window gave me a new sensation.
This was a start, not a scare, for the new visitor was a human foe, and
I had little fear of such, being possessed of good lungs, strong arms,
and a Roman dagger nearly as big as a carving-knife. That step broke the
spell, and, creeping noiselessly to the window, I peeped out to see a
dark figure coming up the stem of the tall tree close by, hand over
hand, like a sailor or a monkey.
"Two can play at that game, my friend; you scare me, and I'll scare
you;" and with an actual sense of relief in breaking the oppressive
silence, I suddenly flung up the curtain, and, leaning out, brandished
my dagger with what I intended to be an awe-inspiring screech, but,
owing to the flutter of my breath, the effort ended in a curious
mixture of howl and bray.
A most effective sound nevertheless; for the rascal dropped as if shot,
and, with one upward glance at the white figure dimly seen in the
starlight, fled as if a legion of goblins were at his heels.
"What next?" thought I, wondering whether tragedy or comedy would close
this eventful night.
I sat and waited, chilly, but valiant, while the weird sounds went on
within, and silence reigned without, till the cheerful crow of the
punctual "cockadoo," as Margie called him, announced the dawn and laid
the ghosts. A red glow in the east banished my last fear, and, wrapping
the drapery of my couch about me, I soon lay down to quiet slumber,
quite worn out.
The sun shining in my face waked me; a bell ringing spasmodically warned
me to hurry, and a childish voice calling out, "Bet-fast is most weady,
Miss Wee," assured me that sweet little spirits haunted the cottage as
well as ghostly ones.
As I left my room to join Margie, who was waiting in the porch, and
looking like a rosy morning-glory half-way up the woodbine trellis, I
saw two things which caused me to feel that the horrors of the night
were not all imaginary.
Just outside the back bedroom door was a damp place, as if that part of
the floor had been newly washed; and when, goaded by curiosity, I peeped
through the keyhole of the haunted chamber, my eye distinctly saw an
open razor lying on a dusty table.
My vision was limited to that one object, but it was quite enough, and I
went up the hill brooding darkly over the secret hidden in my breast. I
longed to tell some one, but was ashamed, and, when asked why so pale
and absent-minded, I answered, with a gloomy smile,--
"It is the clams."
All day I hid my sufferings pretty well, but as night approached, and I
thought of another lonely vigil in the haunted cottage, my heart began
to fail, and, when we sat telling stories in the dusk, a brilliant idea
came into my head.
I would relate my ghost story, and rouse the curiosity of the listeners
to such a pitch that some of them would offer to share my quarters, in
hopes of seeing the spirit of the restless Tucker.
Cheered by this delusive fancy, when my turn came I made a thrilling
tale of the night's adventures, and, having worked my audience up to a
flattering state of excitement, paused for applause.
It came in a most unexpected form, however, for Mrs. Grant burst out
laughing, and the two boys, Johnny and Joe, rolled off the piazza in
convulsions of merriment.
Much disgusted at this unseemly demonstration, I demanded the cause of
it, and involuntarily joined in the general shout when Mrs. Grant
demolished my ghost by informing me that Bezee Tucker lived, died in,
and haunted the tumble-down house at the _other_ end of the lane.
"Then who or what made those mysterious noises?" I asked, relieved but
rather nettled at the downfall of my romance.
"My brother Seth," replied Mrs. Grant, still laughing. "I thought you
might be afraid to be there all alone, so he slipped into the bedroom,
and I forgot to tell you. He's a powerful snorer, and that's one of the
awful sounds. The other was the dripping of salt water; for you wanted
some, and the girl got it in a leaky pail. Seth wiped up the slops when
he came out early in the morning."
I said nothing about the keyhole view of the harmless razor, but,
feeling that I did deserve some credit for my heroic reception of the
burglar, I mildly asked if it was the custom in York for men as well as
turkeys to roost in trees.
An explosion from the boys extinguished my last hope of glory, for as
soon as he could speak Joe answered, unable to resist the joke, though
telling it betrayed his own transgressions.
"Johnny planned to be up awful early, and pick the last cherries off
that tree. I wanted to get ahead of him, so I sneaked down before light
to humbug him, for I was going a-fishing, and we have to be off by
four."
"Did you get your cherries?" I asked, bound to have some of the laugh on
my side.
"Guess I didn't," grumbled Joe, rubbing his knees, while Johnny added,
with an exulting chuckle,--
"He got a horrid scare and a right good scraping, for he didn't know any
one was down there. Couldn't go fishing either, he was so lame, and I
had the cherries after all. Served him right, didn't it?"
No answer was necessary, for the two lads indulged in a friendly scuffle
among the hay-cocks, while Mrs. Grant went off to repeat the tale in the
kitchen, whence the sound of a muffled roar soon assured me that Seth
was enjoying the joke as well as the rest of us.
XII.
KITTY'S CATTLE SHOW.
Little Kitty was an orphan, and she lived in the poor-house, where she
ran errands, tended babies, and was everybody's servant. A droll,
happy-hearted child, who did her best to be good, and was never tired of
hoping that something pleasant would happen.
She had often heard of Cattle Shows, but had never been to one, though
she lived in a town where there was one every year.
As October came, and people began to get ready for the show, Kitty was
seized with a strong desire to go, and asked endless questions about it
of old Sam, who lived in the house.
"Did you say anybody could go in for nothing if they took something to
show?" she asked.
"Yes; and them that has the best fruit, or cows, or butter, or whatever
it is, they gets a premium," said Sam, chopping away.
"What's a primmynum?" asked Kitty, forgetting to pick up chips, in her
interest.
"It's money; some gets a lot, and some only a dollar, or so."
"I wish I had something nice to show, but I don't own anything but
puss," and the little girl stroked the plump, white kitten that was
frisking all over her.
"Better send her; she's pretty enough to fetch a prize anywheres," said
Sam, who was fond of both Kittys.
"Do they have cats there?" asked the child, soberly.
"Ought to, if they don't, for, if cats aint cattle, I don't see what
they be," and old Sam laughed, as if he had made a joke.
"I mean to take her and see the show, any way, for that will be
splendid, even if she don't get any money! O, puss, will you go, and
behave well, and get a primmynum for me, so I can buy a book of
stories?" cried Kitty, upsetting her basket in her sudden skip at the
fine plan.
Puss turned a somersault, raced after a chicken, and then rushed up her
mistress' back, and, perching demurely on her shoulder, peeped into her
face, as if asking if pranks like these wouldn't win a prize anywhere.
"You are going to take Mr. Green's hens for him; can't I go with you? I
won't be any trouble, and I do so want to see the fun," added Kitty,
after thinking over her plan a few minutes.
Now, Sam meant to take her, but had not told her so yet, and now, being
a waggish old fellow, he thought he would let her take her cat, for the
joke of it, so he said soberly,--
"Yes, I'll tuck you in somewheres, and you'd better put puss into the
blackbird's old cage, else she will get scared, and run away. You stand
it among the chicken-coops, and folks will admire her, I aint a doubt."
Innocent little Kitty was in raptures at the prospect, though the people
in the house laughed at her. But she firmly believed it was all right,
and made her preparations with solemn care.
The old cage was scrubbed till the wires shone, then she trimmed it up
with evergreen, and put a bed of scarlet leaves for snowy puss to lie
on. Puss was washed, and combed, and decked with a blue bow on the grand
day, and, when she had been persuaded to enter her pretty prison, the
effect was charming.
A happier little lass was seldom seen than Kitty when, dressed in her
clean, blue check frock, and the old hat, with a faded ribbon, she rode
away with Sam; and behind, among the hen-coops, was Miss Puss, much
excited by the clucking and fluttering of her fellow-travellers.
When the show grounds were reached, Kitty thought the bustle and the
noise quite as interesting as the cattle; and when, after putting his
poultry in its place, Sam led her up into the great hall where the fruit
and flowers were, she began to imagine that the fairy tales were coming
true.
While she stood staring at some very astonishing worsted-work pictures,
a lady, who was arranging fruit near by, upset a basket of fine peaches,
and they rolled away under tables and chairs.
"I'll pick 'em up, ma'am," cried Kitty, who loved to be useful; and down
she went on her hands and knees, and carefully picked up every runaway.
"What is your name, my obliging little girl?" asked the lady, as she
brushed up the last yellow peach.
"Kitty; and I live at the poor-house; and I never saw a Cattle Show
before, 'cause I didn't have any thing to bring," said the child,
feeling as important with her cat as a whole agricultural society.
"What did you bring,--patchwork?"
"O, no, ma'am, a lovely cat, and she is down stairs with the hens,--all
white, with blue eyes and a blue bow," cried Kitty.
"I want to see her," said a little girl, popping her head up from behind
the table, where she had bashfully hidden from the stranger.
The lady consented, and the children went away together.
While they were gone, Sam came to find his little friend, and the kind
lady, amused at the cat story, asked about the child.
"She aint no friends but me and the kitten, so I thought I'd give the
poor little soul a bit of pleasure. The quarter I'll get for fetching
Green's hens will get Kitty some dinner, and a book maybe, or something
to remember Cattle Show by. Shouldn't wonder if I earned a trifle more
doing chores round to-day; if so, I shall give it to her for a premium,
'cause I fetched the cat for fun, and wouldn't like to disappoint the
child."
As Sam laughed, and rubbed his rough hands over the joke of surprising
Kitty, the lady looked at his kind old face, and resolved to give him a
pleasure, too, and of the sort he liked.
She was rich and generous, and, when her little girl came back, begging
her to buy the lovely kitten, she said she would, and put five dollars
into Sam's hands, telling him that was Kitty's premium, to be used in
buying clothes and comforts for the motherless child.
Kitty was quite willing to sell puss, for five dollars seemed a splendid
fortune to her. Such a happy day as that was, for she saw everything,
had a good dinner, bought "Babes in the Wood" of a peddler, and, best of
all, made friends.
Miss Puss was brought up by her new mistress, and put on a table among
the flowers, where the pretty cage and the plump, tricksy kitten
attracted much attention, for the story was told, and the little girl's
droll contribution much laughed over.
But the poor-house people didn't laugh, for they were so surprised and
delighted at this unexpected success that they were never tired of
talking about Kitty's Cattle Show.
XIII.
WHAT BECOMES OF THE PINS.
Miss Ellen was making a new pincushion, and a very pretty one it
promised to be, for she had much taste, and spent half her time
embroidering chair-covers, crocheting tidies, and all sorts of dainty
trifles. Her room was full of them; and she often declared that she did
wish some one would invent a new sort of fancy-work, since she had tried
all the old kinds till she was tired of them. Painting china, carving
wood, button-holing butterflies and daisies onto Turkish towelling, and
making peacock-feather trimming, amused her for a time; but as she was
not very successful she soon gave up trying these branches, and wondered
if she would not take a little plain sewing for a change.
The old cushion stood on her table beside the new one; which was ready
for its trimming of lace and ribbon. A row of delicate new pins also lay
waiting to adorn the red satin mound, and in the old blue one still
remained several pins that had evidently seen hard service.
Miss Ellen was putting a dozen needles into her book, having just picked
them out of the old cushion, and, as she quilted them through the
flannel leaves, she said half aloud,--
"It is very evident where the needles go, but I really do wish I knew
what becomes of the pins."
"I can tell you," answered a small, sharp voice, as a long brass pin
tried to straighten itself up in the middle of a faded blue cornflower,
evidently prepared to address the meeting.
Miss Ellen stared much surprised, for she had used this big pin a good
deal lately, but never heard it speak before. As she looked at it she
saw for the first time that its head had a tiny face, with silvery hair,
two merry eyes, and a wee mouth out of which came the metallic little
voice that pierced her ear, small as it was.
"Dear me!" she said; then added politely, "if you can tell I should be
very happy to hear, for it has long been a great mystery, and no one
could explain it."
The old pin tried to sit erect, and the merry eye twinkled as it went on
like a garrulous creature, glad to talk after long silence:--
"Men make many wonderful discoveries, my dear, but they have never found
that out, and never will, because we belong to women, and only a
feminine ear can hear us, a feminine mind understand our mission, or
sympathize with our trials, experiences, and triumphs. For we have all
these as well as human beings, and there really is not much difference
between us when we come to look into the matter."
This was such a curious statement that Miss Ellen forgot her work to
listen intently, and all the needles fixed their eyes on the audacious
pin. Not a whit abashed it thus continued:--
"I am called 'Granny' among my friends, because I have had a long and
eventful life. I am hearty and well, however, in spite of this crick in
my back, and hope to serve you a good while yet, for you seem to
appreciate me, stout and ordinary as I look.
"Yes, my dear, pins and people _are_ alike, and that rusty
darning-needle need not stare so rudely, for I shall prove what I say.
We are divided into classes by birth and constitution, and each can do
much in its own sphere. I am a shawl pin, and it would be foolish in me
to aspire to the duties of those dainty lace pins made to fasten a
collar. I am contented with my lot, however, and, being of a strong make
and enterprising spirit, have had many adventures, some perils, and
great satisfactions since I left the factory long ago. I well remember
how eagerly I looked about me when the paper in which I lived, with some
hundreds of relations, was hung up in a shop window, to display our
glittering ranks and tempt people to buy. At last a purchaser came, a
dashing young lady who bought us with several other fancy articles, and
carried us away in a smart little bag, humming and talking to herself,
in what I thought a very curious way.
"When we were taken out I was all in a flutter to see where I was and
what would happen next. There were so many of us, I could hardly hope to
go first, for I was in the third row, and most people take us in order.
But Cora was a hasty, careless soul, and pulled us out at random, so I
soon found myself stuck up in a big untidy cushion, with every sort of
pin you can imagine. Such a gay and giddy set I never saw, and really,
my dear, their ways and conversation were quite startling to an ignorant
young thing like me. Pearl, coral, diamond, jet, gold, and silver heads,
were all around me as well as vulgar brass knobs, jaunty black pins,
good for nothing as they snap at the least strain, and my own relations,
looking eminently neat and respectable among this theatrical rabble. For
I will not disguise from you, Miss Ellen, that my first mistress was an
actress, and my life a very gay one at the beginning. Merry, kind, and
careless was the pretty Cora, and I am bound to confess I enjoyed myself
immensely, for I was taken by chance with half a dozen friends to pin up
the folds of her velvet train and mantle, in a fairy spectacle where she
played the queen. It was very splendid, and, snugly settled among the
soft folds, I saw it all, and probably felt that I too had my part;
humble as it was, it was faithfully performed, and I never once deserted
my post for six weeks.
"Among the elves who went flitting about with silvery wings and spangled
robes was one dear child who was the good genius of the queen, and was
always fluttering near her, so I could not help seeing and loving the
dear creature. She danced and sung, came out of flowers, swung down from
trees, popped up from the lower regions, and finally, when all the
queen's troubles are over, flew away on a golden cloud, smiling through
a blaze of red light, and dropping roses as she vanished.
"When the play ended, I used to see her in an old dress, a thin shawl,
and shabby hat, go limping home with a tired-looking woman who dressed
the girls.
"I thought a good deal about 'Little Viola,' as they called her,--though
her real name was Sally, I believe,--and one dreadful night I played a
heroic part, and thrill now when I remember it."
"Go on, please, I long to know," said Miss Ellen, dropping the
needle-book into her lap, and leaning forward to listen better.
"One evening the theatre took fire," continued the old pin impressively.
"I don't know how, but all of a sudden there was a great uproar, smoke,
flames, water pouring, people running frantically about, and such a wild
panic I lost my small wits for a time. When I recovered them, I found
Cora was leaning from a high window, with something wrapped closely in
the velvet mantle that I pinned upon the left shoulder just under a
paste buckle that only sparkled while _I_ did all the work.
"A little golden head lay close by me, and a white face looked up from
the crimson folds, but the sweet eyes were shut, the lips were drawn
with pain, a horrible odor of burnt clothes came up to me, and the small
hand that clutched Cora's neck was all blistered with the cruel fire
which would have devoured the child if my brave mistress had not rescued
her at the risk of her own life. _She_ could have escaped at first, but
she heard Sally cry to her through the blinding smoke, and went to find
and rescue her. I dimly recalled that, and pressed closer to the white
shoulder, full of pride and affection for the kind soul whom I had often
thought too gay and giddy to care for anything but pleasure.
"Now she was calling to the people in the street to put up a ladder,
and, as she leaned and called, I could see the crowds far down, the
smoke and flame bursting out below, and hear the hiss of water as it
fell upon the blazing walls. It was a most exciting moment, as we hung
there, watching the gallant men fix the long ladder, and one come
climbing up till we could see his brave face, and hear him shout
cheerily,--
"'Swing from the window-sill, I'll catch you.'
"But Cora answered, as she showed the little yellow head that shone in
the red glare,--
"'No, save the child first!'
"'Drop her then, and be quick: it's hot work here,' and the man held up
his arms with a laugh, as the flames licked out below as if to eat away
the frail support he stood on.
"All in one breathless moment, Cora had torn off the mantle, wrapped the
child in it, bound her girdle about it, and finding the gaudy band would
not tie, caught out the first pin that came to hand, and fastened it.
_I_ was that pin; and I felt that the child's life almost depended upon
me, for as the precious bundle dropped into the man's hands he caught it
by the cloak, and, putting it on his shoulder, went swiftly down. The
belt strained, the velvet tore, I felt myself bending with the weight,
and expected every minute to see the child slip, and fall on the stones
below. But I held fast, I drove my point deeply in, I twisted myself
round so that even the bend should be a help, and I called to the man,
'Hold tight, I'm trying my best, but what can one pin do!'
"Of course he did not hear me, but I really believe my desperate efforts
were of some use; for, we got safely down, and were hurried away to the
hospital where other poor souls had already gone.
"The good nurse who undid that scorched, drenched, and pitiful bundle,
stuck me in her shawl, and resting there, I saw the poor child laid in a
little bed, her burns skilfully cared for, and her scattered senses
restored by tender words and motherly kisses. How glad I was to hear
that she would live, and still more rejoiced to learn next day that Cora
was near by, badly burned but not in danger, and anxious to see the
child she had saved.
"Nurse Benson took the little thing in her arms to visit my poor
mistress, and I went too. But alas! I never should have known the gay
and blooming girl of the day before. Her face and hands were terribly
burnt, and she would never again be able to play the lovely queen on any
stage, for her fresh beauty was forever lost.
"Hard days for all of us; I took my share of trouble with the rest,
though I only suffered from the strain to my back. Nurse Benson
straightened me out and kept me in use, so I saw much of pain and
patience in that great house, because the little gray shawl which I
fastened covered a tender heart, and on that motherly bosom many aching
heads found rest, many weary creatures breathed their last, and more
than one unhappy soul learned to submit.