HOW MAMMA RAN AWAY
My mother was not a very strong woman, while I was a healthy strong
girl, so when she tried to teach me to knit and sew, I always managed
to get out of it, and she was too weak to insist. So when I went to my
grandmother's to spend the winter, and her first question was, "What
sewing have you on hand now?" I was struck with horror.
"Why none"--I stammered, and seeing the look of surprise in her face,
I hastened to add, "I never have any on hand."
"Do you never sew?" she asked, in her sternest tone.
"Why--not very often," I faltered. "I don't like to sew."
"Hm!" said my grandmother, "I shall have to teach you then; I am
surprised! ten years old and not know how to sew! At your age, your
Aunt Emily was almost an expert needlewoman; she could do overhand,
hemming, felling, backstitching, hemstitching, running, catstitching,
buttonholes, and a little embroidery."
I was aghast. Had I got to learn all these mysteries of the needle! My
grandmother went on.
"We'll begin at the beginning then; I'll prepare some patchwork for
you."
My heart sank; patchwork was the thing my mother had tried to have me
do, and I hated it. I remember now some mussed up, dirty-looking
blocks, stuffed behind a bureau at home--to have them lost.
True to her word, my grandmother brought out her "piece-bag" and
selected a great pile of bits of colored calico and new white cotton
cloth, which she cut into neat blocks about four inches square, and
piled up on the table, the white pieces by themselves, the pink and
the blue in separate piles, and the gray and dull colored also by
themselves.
Then taking needle and thread, she began basting them for sewing, a
white and colored one together. Oh, what a pile there was of basted
pieces, ready for me to learn overhand, or "over 'n over" as I used to
call it. I thought there was enough for a quilt. Should I have to sew
it all? I was in despair. But my grandmother was much pleased with the
show. "There!" she said, "when you finish those, I shall prepare some
more, and if you are industrious, you will have enough for a quilt by
spring, and then I will have a quilting and you can take home to your
mother a sample of the work you have done."
Somehow this picture did not allure me. I thought only of the weary,
weary hours of sewing I should have to do.
Well, that very day she sent to the store and had a thimble bought for
me, and that afternoon after school I began my quilt under her eye. I
must have a regular "stint," she said, and it was to be--at first--one
of those dreadful blocks, at least four inches of over-and-over
stitches! This was to be done the first thing after school, before I
could go out to play.
I won't tell you of the tears I shed over those blocks, of the bad
stitches I had to pick out and do over, of the many times I had to go
and wash my hands because of dirty thread. I thought my grandmother
the most cruel taskmaster in the world.
And the patchwork was not all. When she found that I could not even
knit, and that I was accustomed at home to read all the long winter
evenings before my bedtime at eight, she said at once that so much
reading was not good for me, and I must have some knitting. So she had
some red yarn bought, and some steel needles, and "set up" a stocking
big enough for my little brother, cheering me, as she thought, by
telling me that if I paid proper attention to it, I could knit a pair
of stockings for him before spring. My evening "stint" was six times
around the stocking-leg.
These two tasks, which my grandmother never failed to exact from me,
made life a burden to me. How I hated them! how naughty I was! How I
used to break my needles and lose my spool of thread, and ravel my
knitting to make a diversion in the dreary round, forgetting that all
these hindrances only prolonged my hours of labor, for every stitch of
my task must be finished before she would release me.
I brooded over my hardships till I became really desperate, and so was
in a fit state to agree to a plan proposed by a schoolmate--to run
away. She too had troubles at home; her mother made her help in the
housework; she had to wash dishes when she wanted to play out of
doors.
We compared notes and made up our minds that we were persecuted and
abused, and we wouldn't stand it any longer. We were not quite so
silly as to think of a serious runaway, but we wanted to get rid of
our tasks for one day at least; and besides it was spring now and the
woods were full of flowers, which I loved, next to books, best of
anything in the world.
So after school one day we started for the woods instead of for home.
We felt very brave and grown-up when we turned into the path that led
into the woods, but before the afternoon was over our feelings
changed, and we began to feel very wicked, and to dread going home. I
thought of my grandmother's sharp eyes fixed on me, and dreaded what
punishment she might inflict, for I knew she believed in punishments
that terrified me, such as doubling my daily task, shutting up in a
dark closet, and even, I feared, the rod.
Moreover my fault was made worse by the fact that I had lost my
schoolbooks which I was taking home for the study-hour in the morning.
I had laid them down on a log and was unable to find them again,
though we spent hours--it seemed to me--in looking for them.
We did not enjoy our freedom after all, for the sense of guilt and
dread took all the pleasure out of everything; besides, we had one
great fright. We heard some great animal rustling among the bushes and
were sure it was a bear. We turned and fled, running as hard as we
could, looking fearfully back to see if we were pursued, stumbling
over logs, and tearing our clothes on bushes. I lost one shoe in a
muddy place, and Jenny lost her sunbonnet.
We picked flowers, and when the frail things wilted in our hot hands,
we threw them away, and not till it began to grow dark did we get up
courage to turn towards the village.
The piece of woods was not large, and we did not really get lost, and
before it was quite dark, two very tired, shamefaced girls, with torn
dresses and generally disreputable looks, stole into the back doors of
their respective homes.
I never knew what happened to Jenny--she never would tell me; but I
met the stern face of my grandmother the moment I stepped into the
kitchen. I had tried to slip in and go to my room to wash and brush
myself, and try to mend my dress before she saw me, but the moment I
entered, her eye was upon me.
After one look of utter horror, she seized me by the shoulders, and
walked me into the sitting-room, where the family were gathered,--my
uncle who lived with my grandmother, and my three cousins, all older,
and not playmates for me.
She left me standing in the middle of the room, while all eyes were
turned in reproof upon me.
"There!" said my grandmother, in her most severe voice, "there's the
child who runs away! Look at her."
Then my uncle began to question me. Where had I been? where was my
shoe? how did I tear my dress? what did I do it for? what did I think
I deserved? and various other questions. Before long, I was weeping
bitterly, and feeling that imprisonment for life would be a fitting
punishment for my crimes.
Then came my sentence in the stern voice of my grandmother: "I think a
suitable punishment for a naughty girl will be to go to bed without
her supper." This was assented to by my uncle, and I was sent off in
disgrace, to go to bed.
Now I had a healthy young appetite, and the long tramp had made me
very hungry, so that the punishment--though very mild for my
offense--seemed to me almost worse than anything.
I was tired enough, however, to fall asleep, but after some hours I
awoke, ravenous with hunger. All was still in the house, and I knew
the family must have gone to bed. A long time I lay tossing and
tumbling and getting more restless and hungry every minute.
At last I could stand it no longer, and I crept out of bed and
carefully opened the door--my room was off the kitchen. The last
flickering remains of the fire on the hearth made it light enough to
see my way about.
Softly I crept to the pantry, hoping to find something left from
supper; but my grandmother's maid was well trained, and I found
nothing; the cookie jar, too, was empty, for tomorrow was baking-day.
I was about turning back in despair when my eyes fell on a row of milk
pans, which I knew were full of milk.
The shelf was too high for me to reach comfortably, but I thought I
could draw a pan down enough to drink a little from it, and not
disturb anything. So I raised myself on tiptoe and carefully drew it
towards me.
You can guess what happened; and if I had known more I should have
expected it. As soon as I got the pan over the edge the milk swayed
towards me, the pan escaped from my hands, and fell with terrific
clatter on the floor, deluging me with milk from head to foot.
Terrified out of my wits, I fled to my room, jumped into bed, covered
my head with the bedclothes, and lay there panting. There was a
moment's silence, and then my grandmother's voice,--
"What was that? What has happened?" and my uncle's answer, "I'll bring
a light and see."
Alas! a light revealed wet milk tracks across the kitchen, leading to
my room. In a minute it was opened by my grandmother, who drew me out
into the kitchen, and stood me up on the hearth--uttering not a word.
I was utterly crushed; I expected I knew not what, but something more
than I could guess, and to my uncle's "Why did you do it, child?" I
could only gasp out with bursts of frantic tears, "I was so hungry!"
My grandmother, still silent, hastened to get me dry clothes, then
left me standing on the warm hearth, sobbing violently, and feeling
more and more guilty, as I saw what trouble I had made.
Then she got clean sheets and made up my bed afresh. While she was
doing this, my uncle went in and spoke to her very low. But I think I
must have heard or guessed that he said my sentence had been too
severe, and I was not so much to blame for trying to get a simple
drink of milk, for when my grandmother came out, went into the pantry
and brought me a slice of bread and butter, I was not surprised, but
fell upon it like a half-starved creature.
Then I was sent to bed again, and it being nearly morning, the maid
was called up, and I heard her scrubbing the floor and reducing the
kitchen to its usual condition of shining neatness.
I never tried to run away again; my grandmother never scolded me, but
my shame as I put on the new shoes and took the new schoolbooks was
punishment enough. I tried harder after that to please my grandmother,
and really learned a good deal of sewing, and could knit beautifully
before I went home.
* * * * *
"Poor little mamma!" said Kristy, as her mother paused, "you didn't
have much fun, did you? I can just fancy how you looked, all dripping
with milk. Tell me another."
"Well, I'll tell you something that happened to Jenny soon after that.
Jenny had often told me about an old aunt she had, whom she and her
two cousins used to go to see very often. She wanted me to go with her
sometimes, but I didn't know her aunt, and I was shy, and didn't like
to visit strangers, so I never went."