A fortnight later, the boys were picking apples one golden October
afternoon, and the girls were hurrying to finish their work, that they
might go and help the harvesters. It was six weeks now since the new
school began, and they had learned to like it very much, though they
found that it was not all play, by any means. But lessons, exercise, and
various sorts of housework made an agreeable change, and they felt that
they were learning things which would be useful to them all their lives.
They had been making underclothes for themselves, and each had several
neatly finished garments cut, fitted, and sewed by herself, and trimmed
with the pretty tatting Jill made in such quantities while she lay on
her sofa.
Now they were completing new dressing sacks, and had enjoyed this job
very much, as each chose her own material, and suited her own taste
in the making. Jill's was white, with tiny scarlet leaves all over
it, trimmed with red braid and buttons so like checkerberries she was
tempted to eat them. Molly's was gay, with bouquets of every sort of
flower, scalloped all round, and adorned with six buttons, each of a
different color, which she thought the last touch of elegance. Merry's,
though the simplest, was the daintiest of the three, being pale blue,
trimmed with delicate edging, and beautifully made.
Mrs. Minot had been reading from Miss Strickland's “Queens of England”
while the girls worked, and an illustrated Shakspeare lay open on the
table, as well as several fine photographs of historical places for them
to look at as they went along. The hour was over now, the teacher gone,
and the pupils setting the last stitches as they talked over the lesson,
which had interested them exceedingly.
“I really believe I have got Henry's six wives into my head right at
last. Two Annes, three Katherines, and one Jane. Now I've seen where
they lived and heard their stories, I quite feel as if I knew them,”
said Merry, shaking the threads off her work before she folded it up to
carry home.
“'King Henry the Eighth to six spouses was wedded,
One died, one survived, two divorced, two beheaded,'
was all I knew about them before. Poor things, what a bad time they did
have,” added Jill, patting down the red braid, which would pucker a bit
at the corners.
“Katherine Parr had the best of it, because she outlived the old tyrant
and so kept her head on,” said Molly, winding the thread round her
last button, as if bound to fasten it on so firmly that nothing should
decapitate that.
“I used to think I'd like to be a queen or a great lady, and wear velvet
and jewels, and live in a palace, but now I don't care much for that
sort of splendor. I like to make things pretty at home, and know that
they all depend on me, and love me very much. Queens are not happy, and
I am,” said Merry, pausing to look at Anne Hathaway's cottage as she put
up the picture, and to wonder if it was very pleasant to have a famous
man for one's husband.
“I guess your missionarying has done you good; mine has, and I'm getting
to have things my own way more and more every day. Miss Bat is so
amiable, I hardly know her, and father tells her to ask Miss Molly when
she goes to him for orders. Isn't that fun?” laughed Molly, in high
glee, at the agreeable change. “I like it ever so much, but I don't want
to stay so all my days. I mean to travel, and just as soon as I can
I shall take Boo and go all round the world, and see everything,” she
added, waving her gay sack, as if it were the flag she was about to nail
to the masthead of her ship.
“Well, I should like to be famous in some way, and have people admire
me very much. I'd like to act, or dance, or sing, or be what I heard the
ladies at Pebbly Beach call a 'queen of society.' But I don't expect to
be anything, and I'm not going to worry I shall _not_ be a Lucinda, so
I ought to be contented and happy all my life,” said Jill, who was very
ambitious in spite of the newly acquired meekness, which was all the
more becoming because her natural liveliness often broke out like
sunshine through a veil of light clouds.
If the three girls could have looked forward ten years they would have
been surprised to see how different a fate was theirs from the one each
had chosen, and how happy each was in the place she was called to fill.
Merry was not making the old farmhouse pretty, but living in Italy, with
a young sculptor for her husband, and beauty such as she never dreamed
of all about her. Molly was not travelling round the world, but
contentedly keeping house for her father and still watching over Boo,
who was becoming her pride and joy as well as care. Neither was Jill
a famous woman, but a very happy and useful one, with the two mothers
leaning on her as they grew old, the young men better for her influence
over them, many friends to love and honor her, and a charming home,
where she was queen by right of her cheery spirit, grateful heart, and
unfailing devotion to those who had made her what she was.
If any curious reader, not content with this peep into futurity,
asks, “Did Molly and Jill ever marry?” we must reply, for the sake
of peace--Molly remained a merry spinster all her days, one of the
independent, brave, and busy creatures of whom there is such need in the
world to help take care of other peoples' wives and children, and do the
many useful jobs that the married folk have no time for. Jill certainly
did wear a white veil on the day she was twenty-five and called her
husband Jack. Further than that we cannot go, except to say that
this leap did not end in a catastrophe, like the first one they took
together.
That day, however, they never dreamed of what was in store for them, but
chattered away as they cleared up the room, and then ran off ready for
play, feeling that they had earned it by work well done. They found the
lads just finishing, with Boo to help by picking up the windfalls for
the cider-heap, after he had amused himself by putting about a bushel
down the various holes old Bun had left behind him. Jack was risking
his neck climbing in the most dangerous places, while Frank, with a
long-handled apple-picker, nipped off the finest fruit with care, both
enjoying the pleasant task and feeling proud of the handsome red and
yellow piles all about the little orchard. Merry and Molly caught up
baskets and fell to work with all their might, leaving Jill to sit upon
a stool and sort the early apples ready to use at once, looking up now
and then to nod and smile at her mother who watched her from the window,
rejoicing to see her lass so well and happy.
It was such a lovely day, they all felt its cheerful influence; for the
sun shone bright and warm, the air was full of an invigorating freshness
which soon made the girls' faces look like rosy apples, and their
spirits as gay as if they had been stealing sips of new cider through
a straw. Jack whistled like a blackbird as he swung and bumped about,
Frank orated and joked, Merry and Molly ran races to see who would
fill and empty fastest, and Jill sung to Boo, who reposed in a barrel,
exhausted with his labors.
“These are the last of the pleasant days, and we ought to make the most
of them. Let's have one more picnic before the frost spoils the leaves,”
said Merry, resting a minute at the gate to look down the street, which
was a glorified sort of avenue, with brilliant maples lining the way and
carpeting the ground with crimson and gold.
“Oh, yes! Go down the river once more and have supper on the Island. I
couldn't go to some of your picnics, and I do long for a last good time
before winter shuts me up again,” cried Jill, eager to harvest all the
sunshine she could, for she was not yet quite her old self again.
“I'm your man, if the other fellows agree. We can't barrel these up for
a while, so to-morrow will be a holiday for us. Better make sure of the
day while you can, this weather can't last long;” and Frank shook his
head like one on intimate terms with Old Prob.
“Don't worry about those high ones, Jack. Give a shake and come down and
plan about the party,” called Molly, throwing up a big Baldwin with what
seemed a remarkably good aim, for a shower of apples followed, and a boy
came tumbling earthward to catch on the lowest bough and swing down like
a caterpillar, exclaiming, as he landed,--
“I'm glad that job is done! I've rasped every knuckle I've got and worn
out the knees of my pants. Nice little crop though, isn't it?”
“It will be nicer if this young man does not bite every apple he
touches. Hi there! Stop it, Boo,” commanded Frank, as he caught his
young assistant putting his small teeth into the best ones, to see if
they were sweet or sour.
Molly set the barrel up on end, and that took the boy out of the reach
of mischief, so he retired from view and peeped through a crack as he
ate his fifth pearmain, regardless of consequences.
“Gus will be at home to-morrow. He always comes up early on Saturday,
you know. We can't get on without him,” said Frank, who missed his mate
very much, for Gus had entered college, and so far did not like it as
much as he had expected.
“Or Ralph; he is very busy every spare minute on the little boy's bust,
which is getting on nicely, he says; but he will be able to come home
in time for supper, I think,” added Merry, remembering the absent, as
usual.
“I'll ask the girls on my way home, and all meet at two o'clock for a
good row while it's warm. What shall I bring?” asked Molly, wondering if
Miss Bat's amiability would extend to making goodies in the midst of her
usual Saturday's baking.
“You bring coffee and the big pot and some buttered crackers. I'll see
to the pie and cake, and the other girls can have anything else they
like,” answered Merry, glad and proud that she could provide the party
with her own inviting handiwork.
“I'll take my zither, so we can have music as we sail, and Grif will
bring his violin, and Ralph can imitate a banjo so that you'd be sure he
had one. I do hope it will be fine, it is so splendid to go round like
other folks and enjoy myself,” cried Jill, with a little bounce of
satisfaction at the prospect of a row and ramble.
“Come along, then, and make sure of the girls,” said Merry, catching up
her roll of work, for the harvesting was done.
Molly put her sack on as the easiest way of carrying it, and,
extricating Boo, they went off, accompanied by the boys, “to make sure
of the fellows” also, leaving Jill to sit among the apples, singing and
sorting like a thrifty little housewife.
Next day eleven young people met at the appointed place, basket in hand.
Ralph could not come till later, for he was working now as he never
worked before. They were a merry flock, for the mellow autumn day was
even brighter and clearer than yesterday, and the river looked its
loveliest, winding away under the sombre hemlocks, or through the
fairyland the gay woods made on either side. Two large boats and two
small ones held them all, and away they went, first up through the three
bridges and round the bend, then, turning, they floated down to the
green island, where a grove of oaks rustled their sere leaves and the
squirrels were still gathering acorns. Here they often met to keep their
summer revels, and here they now spread their feast on the flat rock
which needed no cloth beside its own gray lichens. The girls trimmed
each dish with bright leaves, and made the supper look like a banquet
for the elves, while the boys built a fire in the nook where ashes and
blackened stones told of many a rustic meal. The big tin coffee-pot
was not so romantic, but more successful than a kettle slung on three
sticks, gypsy fashion; so they did not risk a downfall, but set the
water boiling, and soon filled the air with the agreeable perfume
associated in their minds with picnics, as most of them never tasted the
fascinating stuff at any other time, being the worst children can drink.
Frank was cook, Gus helped cut bread and cake, Jack and Grif brought
wood, while Bob Walker took Joe's place and made himself generally
useful, as the other gentleman never did, and so was quite out of favor
lately.
All was ready at last, and they were just deciding to sit down without
Ralph, when a shout told them he was coming, and down the river skimmed
a wherry at such a rate the boys wondered whom he had been racing with.
“Something has happened, and he is coming to tell us,” said Jill, who
sat where she could see his eager face.
“Nothing bad, or he wouldn't smile so. He is glad of a good row and a
little fun after working so hard all the week;” and Merry shook a red
napkin as a welcoming signal.
Something certainly had happened, and a very happy something it must be,
they all thought, as Ralph came on with flashing oars, and leaping out
as the boat touched the shore, ran up the slope, waving his hat, and
calling in a glad voice, sure of sympathy in his delight,--
“Good news! good news! Hurrah for Rome, next month!”
The young folks forgot their supper for a moment, to congratulate him on
his happy prospect, and hear all about it, while the leaves rustled as
if echoing the kind words, and the squirrels sat up aloft, wondering
what all the pleasant clamor was about.
“Yes, I'm really going in November. German asked me to go with him
to-day, and if there is any little hitch in my getting off, he'll lend a
hand, and I--I'll black his boots, wet his clay, and run his errands the
rest of my life to pay for this!” cried Ralph, in a burst of gratitude;
for, independent as he was, the kindness of this successful friend to a
deserving comrade touched and won his heart.
“I call that a handsome thing to do!” said Frank, warmly, for noble
actions always pleased him. “I heard my mother say that making good or
useful men was the best sort of sculpture, so I think David German may
be proud of this piece of work, whether the big statue succeeds or not.”
“I'm very glad, old fellow. When I run over for my trip four years from
now, I'll look you up, and see how you are getting on,” said Gus, with a
hearty shake of the hand; and the younger lads grinned cheerfully,
even while they wondered where the fun was in shaping clay and chipping
marble.
“Shall you stay four years?” asked Merry's soft voice, while a wistful
look came into her happy eyes.
“Ten, if I can,” answered Ralph, decidedly, feeling as if a long
lifetime would be all too short for the immortal work he meant to do.
“I've got so much to learn, that I shall do whatever David thinks best
for me at first, and when I _can_ go alone, I shall just shut myself up
and forget that there is any world outside my den.”
“Do write and tell us how you get on now and then; I like to hear about
other people's good times while I'm waiting for my own,” said Molly, too
much interested to observe that Grif was sticking burrs up and down her
braids.
“Of course I shall write to some of you, but you mustn't expect any
great things for years yet. People don't grow famous in a hurry, and it
takes a deal of hard work even to earn your bread and butter, as you'll
find if you ever try it,” answered Ralph, sobering down a little as he
remembered the long and steady effort it had taken to get even so far.
“Speaking of bread and butter reminds me that we'd better eat ours
before the coffee gets quite cold,” said Annette, for Merry seemed to
have forgotten that she had been chosen to play matron, as she was the
oldest.
The boys seconded the motion, and for a few minutes supper was the
all-absorbing topic, as the cups went round and the goodies vanished
rapidly, accompanied by the usual mishaps which make picnic meals such
fun. Ralph's health was drunk with all sorts of good wishes; and such
splendid prophecies were made, that he would have far surpassed Michael
Angelo, if they could have come true. Grif gave him an order on the spot
for a full-length statue of himself, and stood up to show the imposing
attitude in which he wished to be taken, but unfortunately slipped
and fell forward with one hand in the custard pie, the other clutching
wildly at the coffee-pot, which inhospitably burnt his fingers.
“I think I grasp the idea, and will be sure to remember not to make
your hair blow one way and the tails of your coat another, as a certain
sculptor made those of a famous man,” laughed Ralph, as the fallen hero
scrambled up, amidst general merriment.
“Will the little bust be done before you go?” asked Jill, anxiously,
feeling a personal interest in the success of that order.
“Yes: I've been hard at it every spare minute I could get, and have a
fortnight more. It suits Mrs. Lennox, and she will pay well for it, so
I shall have something to start with, though I haven't been able to save
much. I'm to thank you for that, and I shall send you the first pretty
thing I get hold of,” answered Ralph, looking gratefully at the bright
face, which grew still brighter as Jill exclaimed,--
“I do feel _so_ proud to know a real artist, and have my bust done by
him. I only wish _I_ could pay for it as Mrs. Lennox does; but I haven't
any money, and you don't need the sort of things I can make,” she added,
shaking her head, as she thought over knit slippers, wall-pockets, and
crochet in all its forms, as offerings to her departing friend.
“You can write often, and tell me all about everybody, for I shall want
to know, and people will soon forget me when I'm gone,” said Ralph,
looking at Merry, who was making a garland of yellow leaves for Juliet's
black hair.
Jill promised, and kept her word; but the longest letters went from the
farm-house on the hill, though no one knew the fact till long afterward.
Merry said nothing now, but she smiled, with a pretty color in her
cheeks, and was very much absorbed in her work, while the talk went on.
“I wish I was twenty, and going to seek my fortune, as you are,” said
Jack; and the other boys agreed with him, for something in Ralph's new
plans and purposes roused the manly spirit in all of them, reminding
them that playtime would soon be over, and the great world before them,
where to choose.
“It is easy enough to say what you'd like; but the trouble is, you have
to take what you can get, and make the best of it,” said Gus, whose own
views were rather vague as yet.
“No you don't, always; you can _make_ things go as you want them, if you
only try hard enough, and walk right over whatever stands in the way. I
don't mean to give up my plans for any man; but, if I live, I'll carry
them out--you see if I don't;” and Frank gave the rock where he lay a
blow with his fist, that sent the acorns flying all about.
One of them hit Jack, and he said, sorrowfully, as he held it in his
hand so carefully it was evident he had some association with it,--
“Ed used to say that, and he had some splendid plans, but they didn't
come to anything.”
“Perhaps they did; who can tell? Do your best while you live, and I
don't believe anything good is lost, whether we have it a long or a
short time,” said Ralph, who knew what a help and comfort high hopes
were, and how they led to better things, if worthily cherished.
“A great many acorns are wasted, I suppose; but some of them sprout and
grow, and make splendid trees,” added Merry, feeling more than she knew
how to express, as she looked up at the oaks overhead.
Only seven of the party were sitting on the knoll now, for the rest had
gone to wash the dishes and pack the baskets down by the boats. Jack and
Jill, with the three elder boys, were in a little group, and as Merry
spoke, Gus said to Frank,--
“Did you plant yours?”
“Yes, on the lawn, and I mean it shall come up if I can make it,”
answered Frank, gravely.
“I put mine where I can see it from the window, and not forget to water
and take care of it,” added Jack, still turning the pretty brown acorn
to and fro as if he loved it.
“What do they mean?” whispered Merry to Jill, who was leaning against
her knee to rest.
“The boys were walking in the Cemetery last Sunday, as they often do,
and when they came to Ed's grave, the place was all covered with little
acorns from the tree that grows on the bank. They each took up some as
they stood talking, and Jack said he should plant his, for he loved Ed
very much, you know. The others said they would, too; and I hope the
trees will grow, though we don't need anything to remember him by,”
answered Jill, in a low tone, thinking of the pressed flowers the girls
kept for his sake.
The boys heard her, but no one spoke for a moment as they sat looking
across the river toward the hill where the pines whispered their
lullabies and pointed heavenward, steadfast and green, all the year
round. None of them could express the thought that was in their minds as
Jill told the little story; but the act and the feeling that prompted it
were perhaps as beautiful an assurance as could have been given that
the dear dead boy's example had not been wasted, for the planting of the
acorns was a symbol of the desire budding in those young hearts to
be what he might have been, and to make their lives nobler for the
knowledge and the love of him.
“It seems as if a great deal had happened this year,” said Merry, in a
pensive tone, for this quiet talk just suited her mood.
“So I say, for there's been a Declaration of Independence and a
Revolution in our house, and I'm commander-in-chief now; and don't I
like it!” cried Molly, complacently surveying the neat new uniform she
wore of her own choosing.
“I feel as if I never learned so much in my life as I have since last
December, and yet I never did so little,” added Jill, wondering why the
months of weariness and pain did not seem more dreadful to her.
“Well, pitching on my head seems to have given me a good shaking up,
somehow, and I mean to do great things next year in better ways than
breaking my bones coasting,” said Jack, with a manly air.
“I feel like a Siamese twin without his mate now you are gone, but I'm
under orders for a while, and mean to do my best. Guess it won't be
lost time;” and Frank nodded at Gus, who nodded back with the slightly
superior expression all Freshmen wear.
“Hope you won't find it so. My work is all cut out for me, and I intend
to go in and win, though it is more of a grind than you fellows know.”
“I'm sure I have everything to be grateful for. It won't be plain
sailing--I don't expect it; but, if I live, I'll do something to be
proud of,” said Ralph, squaring his shoulders as if to meet and conquer
all obstacles as he looked into the glowing west, which was not fairer
than his ambitious dreams.
Here we will say good-by to these girls and boys of ours as they sit
together in the sunshine talking over a year that was to be for ever
memorable to them, not because of any very remarkable events, but
because they were just beginning to look about them as they stepped out
of childhood into youth, and some of the experiences of the past months
had set them to thinking, taught them to see the use and beauty of the
small duties, joys, and sorrows which make up our lives, and inspired
them to resolve that the coming year should be braver and brighter than
the last.
There are many such boys and girls, full of high hopes, lovely
possibilities, and earnest plans, pausing a moment before they push
their little boats from the safe shore. Let those who launch them see
to it that they have good health to man the oars, good education for
ballast, and good principles as pilots to guide them as they voyage down
an ever-widening river to the sea.