A COUNTRY FIRESIDE
After supper they all gathered for a time in the large general
sitting-room, and careful Leonard went the rounds of the barn and
out-buildings. Mr. Clifford, with considerate kindness, had resolved to
defer all conversation with Amy relating to her bereavement and the
scenes that had ensued. At this holiday-time they would make every effort
within their power to pierce with light and warmth the cold gray clouds
that of late had gathered so heavily over the poor child's life. At the
same time their festivities would be subdued by the memory of her recent
sorrow, and restricted to their immediate family circle. But, instead of
obtrusive kindness, they enveloped her in the home atmosphere, and made
her one of them. The manner in which old Mrs. Clifford kept her near and
retained her hand was a benediction in itself.
Leonard was soon heard stamping the snow from his boots on the back
piazza, and in a few moments he entered, shivering.
"The coldest night of the year," he exclaimed. "Ten below zero, and it
will probably be twelve before morning. It's too bad, Amy, that you have
had such a cold reception."
"The thermometer makes a good foil for your smile," she replied. "Indeed,
I think the mercury rose a little while you were looking at it."
"Oh no," he said, laughing, "even you could not make it rise to-night.
Heigho, Ned! coming to kiss good-night? I say, Ned, tell us what mamma
has for Amy's stocking. What a good joke it is, to be sure I We all had
the impression you were a little girl, you know, and selected our gifts
accordingly. Burt actually bought you a doll. Ha! ha! ha! Maggie had
planned to have you hang up your stocking with the children, and such a
lot of little traps and sweets she has for you!"
The boy, to whom going to bed at the usual hour was a heavy cross on this
momentous evening, promptly availed himself of a chance for delay by
climbing on Amy's lap, and going into a voluble inventory of the contents
of a drawer into which he had obtained several surreptitious peeps. His
effort to tell an interminable story that he might sit up longer, the
droll havoc he made with his English, and the naming of the toys that
were destined for the supposed child, evoked an unforced merriment which
banished the last vestige of restraint.
"Well, I'm glad it has all happened so," said Amy, after the little
fellow had reluctantly come to the end of his facts and his invention
also. "You make me feel as if I had known you for years--almost,
indeed, as if I had come to you as a little girl, and had grown up among
you. Come, Ned, it shall all turn out just as you expected. I'll go with
you upstairs, and hang my stocking beside yours, and mamma shall put into
it all the lovely things you have told me about. Santa Claus does not
know much about my coming here, nor what kind of a girl I am, so your
kind mamma meant to act the part of Santa Claus in my behalf this year,
and give him a chance to get acquainted with me. But he knows all about
you, and there's no telling how soon he may come to fill your stocking.
You know he has to fill the stockings of all the little boys and girls in
the country, and that will take a long time. So I think we had better go
at once, for I don't believe he would like it if he came and found you up
and awake."
This put a new aspect upon going to bed early, and having seen his short,
chubby stocking dangling with a long, slender one of Amy's by the
chimney-side, Ned closed his eyes with ineffable content and faith. Amy
then returned to the sitting-room, whither she was soon followed by Maggie,
and after some further light and laughing talk the conversation naturally
drifted toward those subjects in which the family was practically
interested.
"What do you think, father?" Leonard asked. "Won't this finish the peach
and cherry buds? I've always heard that ten degrees of cold below zero
destroyed the fruit germs."
"Not always," replied the man of long experience. "It depends much upon
their condition when winter sets in, and whether, previous to the cold
snap, there have been prolonged thaws. The new growth on the trees
ripened thoroughly last fall, and the frost since has been gradual and
steady. I've known peach-buds to survive fifteen below zero; but there's
always danger in weather like this. We shall know what the prospects are
after the buds thaw out."
"How will that be possible?" Amy asked, in surprise.
"Now, Webb, is your chance to shine," cried Burtis. "Hitherto, Amy, the
oracle has usually been dumb, but you may become a priestess who will
evoke untold stores of wisdom."
Webb flushed slightly, but again proved that his brother's banter had
little influence.
"If you are willing to wait a few days," he said, with a smile, "I can
make clear to you, by the aid of a microscope, what father means, much
better than I can explain. I can then show you the fruit germs either
perfect or blackened by the frost."
"I'll wait, and remind you of your promise, too. I don't know nearly as
much about the country as a butterfly or a bird, but should be quite as
unhappy as they were I condemned to city life. So you must not laugh at
me if I ask no end of questions, and try to put my finger into some of
your horticultural pies."
His pleased look contained all the assurance she needed, and he resumed,
speaking generally: "The true places for raising peaches--indeed, all the
stone-fruits--successfully in this region are the plateaus and slopes of
the mountains beyond us. At their height the mercury never falls as low
as it does with us, and when we have not a peach or cherry I have found
such trees as existed high up among the hills well laden."
"Look here, uncle Webb," cried Alf, "you've forgotten your geography. The
higher you go up the colder it gets."
The young man patiently explained to the boy that the height of the
Highlands is not sufficient to cause any material change in climate,
while on still nights the coldest air sinks to the lowest levels, and
therefore the trees in the valleys and at the base of the mountains
suffer the most. "But what you say," he concluded, "is true as a rule.
The mercury does range lower on the hills; and if they were a thousand or
fifteen hundred feet higher peaches could not be grown at all."
Amy mentally soliloquized: "I am learning not only about the mercury, but
also--what Alf has no doubt already found out--that Webb is the one to go
to if one wishes anything explained. What's more, he wouldn't, in giving
the information, overwhelm one with a sense of deplorable ignorance."
In accordance with his practical bent, Webb continued: "I believe that a
great deal of money could be made in the Highlands by raising peaches. The
crop would be almost certain, and the large late varieties are those which
bring the extraordinary prices. What is more, the mountain land would
probably have the quality of virgin soil. You remember, father, don't you,
when peaches in this region were scarcely troubled by disease?"
"Indeed I do. There was a time when they would live on almost like
apple-trees, and give us an abundance of great luscious fruit year after
year. Even with the help of the pigs we could not dispose of the crops,
the bulk of which, in many instances, I am sorry to say, went into
brandy. What was that you were reading the other day about peaches in
Hawthorne's description of the Old Manse?"
Webb took the book and read: "Peach-trees which, in a good year, tormented
me with peaches neither to be eaten nor kept, nor, without labor and
perplexity, to be given away."
"That hits it exactly," resumed the old gentleman, laughing, "only every
year was a good year then, and we had not the New York market within
three hours of us. Even if we had, a large modern orchard would have
supplied it. One of the most remarkable of the changes I've witnessed in
my time is the enormous consumption of fruit in large cities. Why, more
is disposed of in Newburgh than used to go to New York. But to return to
peaches; our only chance for a long time has been to plant young trees
every year or two, and we scarcely secured a crop more than once in three
years. Even then the yellows often destroyed the trees before they were
old enough to bear much. They are doing far better of late along the
Hudson, and there is good prospect that this region will become the
greatest peach-growing locality in the country."
"I'm sure you are right," assented Webb, "and I think it will pay us to
plant largely in the spring. I don't suppose you ever saw a peach-orchard
in England, Amy?"
"I don't think I ever did. They were all grown in front of sunny walls,
_espalier_, as papa termed it. We had some in our garden."
"Yes," resumed Webb, "the climate there is too cool and humid for even
the wood to ripen. Here, on the contrary, we often have too vivid
sunshine. I propose that we put out all the north slope in peaches."
"Do you think a northern exposure best?" Leonard asked.
"I certainly do. In my opinion it is not the frost, unless it be very
severe, that plays the mischief with the buds, but alternate freezing and
thawing, especially after the buds have started in spring. On a northern
slope the buds usually remain dormant until the danger of late frosts is
over. I am quite sure, too, that the yellows is a disease due chiefly to
careless or dishonest propagation. Pits and buds have been taken from
infected trees, and thus the evil has been spread far and wide. There is
as much to be gained in the careful and long-continued selection of
fruits and vegetables as in the judicious breeding of stock."
"Has no remedy for the yellows been discovered?" Leonard again queried.
"Only the axe and fire. The evil should be extirpated as fast as it
appears. Prevention is far better than any attempt at cure. The thing to
do is to obtain healthier trees, and then set them out on new land.
That's why I think the north slope will be a good place, for peaches have
never been grown there in my memory."
"Come, Amy," said Burt. "Len and Webb are now fairly astride of their
horticultural hobbies. Come with me, and see the moon shining on old
Storm King."
They pushed aside the heavy crimson curtains, which added a sense of warmth
to the cheerful room, and looked at the cold white world without--a ghost
of a world, it seemed to Amy. The moon, nearly full, had risen in the gap
of the Highlands, and had now climbed well above the mountains, softening
and etherealizing them until every harsh, rugged outline was lost. The
river at their feet looked pallid and ghostly also. When not enchained by
frost, lights twinkled here and there all over its broad surface, and the
intervals were brief when the throbbing engines of some passing steamer
were not heard. Now it was like the face of the dead when a busy life is
over.
"It's all very beautiful," said Amy, shivering, "but too cold and still.
I love life, and this reminds one of death, the thoughts of which, with
all that it involves, have oppressed me so long that I must throw off the
burden. I was growing morbid, and giving way to a deeper and deeper
depression, and now your sunny home life seems just the antidote for it
all."
The warm-hearted fellow was touched, for there were tears in the young
girl's eyes. "You have come to the right place, Amy," he said, eagerly.
"You cannot love life more than I, and I promise to make it lively for
you. I'm just the physician to minister to the mind diseased with
melancholy. Trust me. I can do a hundred-fold more for you than delving,
matter-of-fact Webb. So come to me when you have the blues. Let us make
an alliance offensive and defensive against all the powers of dulness and
gloom."
"I'll do my best," she replied, smiling; "but there will be hours, and
perhaps days, when the past with its shadows will come back too vividly
for me to escape it."
"I'll banish all shadows, never fear. I'll make the present so real and
jolly that you will forget the past."
"I don't wish to forget, but only to think of it without the dreary
foreboding and sinking of heart that oppressed me till I came here. I
know you will do much for me, but I am sure I shall like Webb also."
"Oh, of course you will. He's one of the best fellows in the world. Don't
think that I misunderstand him or fail to appreciate his worth because I
love to run him so. Perhaps you'll wake him up and get him out of his
ruts. But I foresee that I'm the medicine you most need. Come to the
fire; you are shivering."
"Oh, I'm so glad that I've found such a home," she said, with a grateful
glance, as she emerged from the curtains.