Hannah Maria Green sat on the north door-step, and sewed over and over a
seam in a sheet. She had just gotten into her teens, and she was tall
for her age, although very slim. She wore a low-necked, and
short-sleeved, brown delaine dress. That style of dress was not
becoming, but it was the fashion that summer. Her neck was very thin,
and her collar-bones showed. Her arms were very long and small and
knobby. Hannah Maria's brown hair was parted from her forehead to the
back of her neck, braided in two tight braids, crossed in a flat mass at
the back of her head, and surmounted by a large green-ribbon bow. Hannah
Maria kept patting the bow to be sure it was on.
It was very cool there on the north door-step. Before it lay the wide
north yard full of tall waving grass, with some little cinnamon
rose-bushes sunken in it. Hardly anybody used the north door, so there
was no path leading to it.
It was nearly four o'clock. Hannah Maria bent her sober freckled face
over the sheet, and sewed and sewed. Her mother had gone to the next
town to do some shopping, and bidden her to finish the seam before she
returned. Hannah Maria was naturally obedient; moreover, her mother was
a decided woman, so she had been very diligent; in fact the seam was
nearly sewed.
It was very still--that is, there were only the sounds that seem to make
a part of stillness. The birds twittered, the locusts shrilled, and the
tall clock in the entry ticked. Hannah Maria was not afraid, but she was
lonesome. Once in a while she looked around and sighed. She placed a pin
a little way in advance on the seam, and made up her mind that when she
had sewed to that place she would go into the house and get a slice of
cake. Her mother had told her that she might cut a slice from the
one-egg cake which had been made that morning. But before she had sewed
to the pin, little Mehitable Lamb came down the road. She was in reality
some years younger than Hannah Maria, but not so much younger as Hannah
Maria considered her. The girl on the door-step surveyed the one
approaching down the road with a friendly and patronizing air.
"Holloa!" she sang out, when Mehitable was within hailing distance.
"Holloa!" answered back Mehitable's little, sweet, deferential voice.
She came straight on, left the road, and struck across the grassy north
yard to Hannah Maria's door-step. She was a round, fair little girl; her
auburn hair was curled in a row of neat, smooth "water curls" around her
head. She wore a straw hat with a blue ribbon, and a blue-and-white
checked gingham dress; she also wore white stockings and patent leather
"ankle-ties." Her dress was low-necked and short-sleeved, like Hannah
Maria's, but her neck and arms were very fair and chubby.
Mehitable drew her big china doll in a doll's carriage. Hannah Maria
eyed her with seeming disdain and secret longing. She herself had given
up playing with dolls, her mother thought her too big; but they had
still a fascination for her, and the old love had not quite died out of
her breast.
"Mother said I might come over and stay an hour and a half," said
Mehitable.
Hannah Maria smiled hospitably. "I'm keepin' house," said she. "Mother's
gone to Lawrence."
Mehitable took her doll out of the carriage with a motherly air, and
sat down on the door-step with it in her lap.
"How much longer you goin' to play with dolls?" inquired Hannah Maria.
"I don't know," replied Mehitable, with a little shamed droop of her
eyelids.
"You can't when you get a little bigger, anyhow. Is that a new dress
she's got on?"
"Yes; Aunt Susy made it out of a piece of her blue silk."
"It's handsome, isn't it? Let me take her a minute." Hannah Maria took
the doll and cuddled it up against her shoulder as she had used to do
with her own. She examined the blue silk dress. "My doll had a real
handsome plaid silk one," said she, and she spoke as if the doll were
dead. She sighed.
"Have you given her away?" inquired Mehitable, in a solemn tone.
"No; she's packed away. I'm too old to play with her, you know. Mother
said I had other things to 'tend to. Dolls are well 'nough for little
girls like you. Here, you'd better take her; I've got to finish my
sewin'."
Hannah Maria handed back the doll with a resolute air, but she handed
her back tenderly; then she sewed until she reached the pin. Mehitable
rocked her doll, and watched.
When Hannah Maria reached the pin she jumped up. "I'm comin' back in a
minute," said she, and disappeared in the house. Presently Mehitable
heard the dishes rattle.
"She's gone after a cooky," she thought. Cookies were her usual
luncheon.
But Hannah Maria came back with a long slice of one-egg cake with
blueberries in it. She broke it into halves, and gave the larger one to
Mehitable. "There," said she, "I'd give you more, but mother didn't tell
me I could cut more'n one slice."
Mehitable ate her cake appreciatively; once in a while she slyly fed her
doll with a bit.
Hannah Maria took bites of hers between the stitches; she had almost
finished the over-and-over seams.
Presently she rose and shook out the sheet with a triumphant air.
"There," said she, "it's done."
"Did you sew all that this afternoon?" asked Mehitable, in an awed tone.
"My! yes. It isn't so very much to do."
Hannah Maria laid the sheet down in a heap on the entry floor; then she
looked at Mehitable. "Now, I've nothin' more to do," said she. "S'pose
we go to walk a little ways?"
"I don't know as my mother'd like to have me do that."
"Oh yes, she would; she won't care. Come along! I'll get my hat."
Hannah Maria dashed over the sheet into the entry and got her hat off
the peg; then she and Mehitable started. They strolled up the country
road. Mehitable trundled her doll-carriage carefully; once in a while
she looked in to see if the doll was all right.
"Isn't that carriage kind of heavy for you to drag all alone?" inquired
Hannah Maria.
"No; it isn't very heavy."
"I had just as lief help you drag it as not."
Hannah Maria reached down and took hold by one side of the handle of the
doll-carriage, and the two girls trundled it together.
There were no houses for a long way. The road stretched between
pasture-lands and apple-orchards. There was one very fine orchard on
both sides of the street a quarter of a mile below Hannah Maria's house.
The trees were so heavily loaded with green apples that the branches
hung low over the stone walls. Now and then there was among them a tree
full of ripe yellow apples.
"Don't you like early apples?" asked Hannah Maria.
Mehitable nodded.
"Had any?"
"No."
"They don't grow in your field, do they?"
Mehitable shook her head. "Mother makes pies with our apples, but
they're not mellow 'nough to eat now," she replied.
"Well," said Hannah Maria, "we haven't got any. All our apples are
baldwins and greenin's. I havn't had an early apple this summer."
The two went on, trundling the doll-carriage. Suddenly Hannah Maria
stopped.
"Look here," said she; "my aunt Jenny and my uncle Timothy have got lots
of early apples. You just go along this road a little farther, and you
get to the road that leads to their house. S'pose we go."
"How far is it?"
"Oh, not very far. Father walks over sometimes."
"I don't believe my mother would like it."
"Oh yes, she would! Come along."
But all Hannah Maria's entreaties could not stir Mehitable Lamb. When
they reached the road that led to Uncle Timothy's house she stood still.
"My mother won't like it," said she.
"Yes, she will."
Mehitable stood as if she and the doll-carriage were anchored to the
road.
"I think you're real mean, Mehitable Lamb," said Hannah Maria. "You're a
terrible 'fraid cat. I'm goin', anyhow, and I won't bring you a single
apple; so there!"
"Don't want any," returned Mehitable, with some spirit. She turned the
doll-carriage around. Hannah Maria walked up the road a few steps.
Suddenly she faced about. Mehitable had already started homeward.
"Mehitable Lamb!" said she.
Mehitable looked around.
"I s'pose you'll go right straight home and tell my mother just as quick
as you can get there."
Mehitable said nothing.
"You'll be an awful telltale if you do."
"Sha'n't tell," said Mehitable, in a sulky voice.
"Will you promise--'Honest and true. Black and blue. Lay me down and cut
me in two'--that you won't tell?"
Mehitable nodded.
"Say it over then."
Mehitable repeated the formula. It sounded like inaudible gibberish.
"I shall tell her myself when I get home," said Hannah Maria. "I shall
be back pretty soon, anyway, but I don't want her sending father after
me. You're sure you're not goin' to tell, now, Mehitable Lamb? Say it
over again."
Mehitable said it again.
"Well, you'll be an awful telltale if you do tell after that!" said
Hannah Maria.
She went on up one road towards her uncle Timothy Dunn's, and Mehitable
trundled her doll-carriage homeward down the other. She went straight on
past Hannah Maria's house. Hannah Maria's mother, Mrs. Green, had come
home. She saw the white horse and buggy out in the south yard. She heard
Mrs. Green's voice calling, "Hannah Maria, Hannah Maria!" and she
scudded by like a rabbit.
Mehitable's own house was up the hill, not far beyond. She lived there
with her mother and grandmother and her two aunts; her father was dead.
The smoke was coming out of the kitchen chimney; her aunt Susy was
getting supper. Aunt Susy was the younger and prettier of the aunts.
Mehitable thought her perfection. She came to the kitchen door when
Mehitable entered the yard, and stood there smiling at her.
"Well," said she, "did you have a nice time at Hannah Maria's?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"What makes you look so sober?"
Mehitable said nothing.
"Did you play dolls?"
"Hannah Maria's too big."
"Stuff!" cried Aunt Susy. Then her shortcake was burning, and she had to
run in to see to it.
Mehitable took her china doll out of the carriage, set her carefully on
the step, and then lugged the carriage laboriously to a corner of the
piazza, where she always kept it. It was a very nice large carriage, and
rather awkward to be kept in the house. Then she took her doll and went
in through the kitchen to the sitting-room. Her mother and grandmother
and other aunt were in there, and they were all glad to see her, and
inquired if she had had a nice time at Hannah Maria's. But Mehitable was
very sober. She did not seem like herself. Her mother asked whether she
did not feel well, and, in spite of her saying that she did, would not
let her eat any of her aunt Susy's shortcake for supper. She had to eat
some stale bread, and shortly after supper she had to go to bed. Her
mother went up-stairs with her, and tucked her in.
"She's all tired out," she said to the others, "it's
quite a little walk over to the Greens', and I s'pose she played hard. I
don't really like to have her play with a girl so much older as Hannah
Maria. She isn't big enough to run and race."
"She didn't seem like herself when she came into the yard," said Aunt
Susy.
"I should have given her a good bowl of thoroughwort tea, when she went
to bed," said her grandmother.
"The kitchen fire isn't out yet; I can steep some thoroughwort now,"
said Aunt Susy, and she forthwith started. She brewed a great bowl of
thoroughwort tea and carried it up to Mehitable. Mehitable's wistful
innocent blue eyes stared up out of the pillows at Aunt Susy and the
bowl.
"What is it?" she inquired.
"A bowl of nice hot thoroughwort tea. You sit up and drink it right
down, like a good little girl."
"I'm not sick, Aunt Susy," Mehitable pleaded, faintly. She hated
thoroughwort tea.
"Well, never mind if you're not. Sit right up. It'll do you good."
Aunt Susy's face was full of loving determination. So Mehitable sat up.
She drank the thoroughwort tea with convulsive gulps. Once in a while
she paused and rolled her eyes piteously over the edge of the bowl.
"Drink it right down," said Aunt Susy.
And she drank it down. There never was a more obedient little girl than
Mehitable Lamb. Then she lay back, and Aunt Susy tucked her up, and went
down with the empty bowl.
"Did she drink it all?" inquired her grandmother.
"Every mite."
"Well, she'll be all right in the morning, I guess. There isn't anything
better than a bowl of good, hot, thoroughwort tea."
The twilight was deepening. The Lamb family were all in the
sitting-room. They had not lighted the lamp, the summer dusk was so
pleasant. The windows were open. All at once a dark shadow appeared at
one of them. The women started--all but Grandmother Lamb. She was asleep
in her chair.
"Who's there?" Aunt Susy asked, in a grave tone.
"Have you seen anything of Hannah Maria?" said a hoarse voice. Then they
knew it was Mr. Green.
Mrs. Lamb and the aunts pressed close to the window.
"No, we haven't," replied Mrs. Lamb. "Why, what's the matter?"
"We can't find her anywheres. Mother went over to Lawrence this
afternoon, and I was down in the east field hayin'. Mother, she got home
first, and Hannah Maria wasn't anywhere about the house, an' she'd kind
of an idea she'd gone over to the Bennets'; she'd been talkin' about
goin' there to get a tidy-pattern of the Bennet girl, so she waited till
I got home. I jest put the horse in again, an' drove over there, but
she's not been there. I don't know where she is. Mother's most crazy."
"Where is she?" they cried, all altogether.
"Sittin' out in the road, in the buggy."
Mrs. Lamb and the aunts hurried out. They and Mr. Green stood beside the
buggy, and Mrs. Green thrust her anxious face out.
"Oh, where do you suppose she is?" she groaned.
"Now, do keep calm, Mrs. Green," said Mrs. Lamb, in an agitated voice.
"We've got something to tell you. Mehitable was over there this
afternoon."
"Oh, she wasn't, was she?"
"Yes, she was. She went about four o'clock, and she stayed an hour and a
half. Hannah Maria was all right then. Now, I tell you what we'll do,
Mrs. Green: you just get right out of the buggy, and Mr. Green will
hitch the horse, and we'll go in and ask Mehitable just how she left
Hannah Maria. Don't you worry. You keep calm, and we'll find her."
Mrs. Green stepped tremblingly from the buggy. She could scarcely stand.
Mrs. Lamb took one arm and Aunt Susy the other. Mr. Green hitched the
horse, and they all went into the house, and up-stairs to Mehitable's
room. Mehitable was not asleep. She stared at them in a frightened way
as they all filed into the room. Mrs. Green rushed to the bed.
"Oh, Mehitable," she cried, "when did you last see my Hannah Maria?"
Mehitable looked at her and said nothing.
"Tell Mrs. Green when you last saw Hannah Maria," said Mrs. Lamb.
"I guess 'twas 'bout five o'clock," replied Mehitable, in a quavering
voice.
"She got home at half-past five," interposed Mehitable's mother.
"Did she look all right?" asked Mrs. Green.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Nobody came to the house when you were there, did there?" asked Mr.
Green.
"No, sir."
Aunt Susy came forward. "Now look here, Mehitable," said she. "Do you
know anything about what has become of Hannah Maria? Answer me, yes or
no."
Mehitable's eyes were like pale moons; her little face was as white as
the pillow.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Well, what has become of her?"
Mehitable was silent.
"Why, Mehitable Lamb!" repeated Aunt Susy, "tell us this minute what has
become of Hannah Maria!"
Mehitable was silent.
"Oh," sobbed Mrs. Green, "you must tell me. Mehitable, you'll tell
Hannah Maria's mother what has become of her, won't you?"
Mehitable's mother bent over her and whispered, but Mehitable lay there
like a little stone image.
"Oh, do make her tell!" pleaded Mrs. Green.
"Come, now, tell, and I'll buy you a whole pound of candy," said Mr.
Green.
"Mehitable, you _must_ tell," said Aunt Susy.
Suddenly Mehitable began to cry. She sobbed and sobbed; her little body
shook convulsively. They all urged her to tell, but she only shook her
head between the sobs.
Grandmother Lamb came into the room. She had awakened from her nap.
"What's the matter?" she inquired. "What ails Mehitable? Is she sick?"
"Hannah Maria is lost, and Mehitable knows what has become of her, and
she won't tell," explained Aunt Susy.
"Massy sakes!" Grandmother Lamb went up to the bed. "Tell grandmother,"
she whispered, "an' she'll give you a pep'mint."
But Mehitable shook her head and sobbed.
They all pleaded and argued and commanded, but they got no reply but
that shake of the head and sobs.
"The child will be sick if she keeps on this way," said Grandmother
Lamb.
"She deserves to be sick!" said Hannah Maria's mother, in a desperate
voice; and Mehitable's mother forgave her.
"We may as well go down," said Mr. Green, with a groan. "I can't waste
any more time here; I've got to do something."
"Oh, here 'tis night coming on, and my poor child lost!" wailed Hannah
Maria's mother.
Mehitable sobbed so that it was pitiful in spite of her obstinacy.
"If that child don't have somethin' to take, she'll be sick," said her
grandmother. "I dunno as there's any need of her bein' sick if Hannah
Maria is lost." And she forthwith went stiffly down-stairs. The rest
followed--all except Mrs. Lamb. She lingered to plead longer with
Mehitable.
"You're mother's own little girl," said she, "and nobody shall scold you
whatever happens. Now, tell mother what has become of Hannah Maria."
But it was of no use. Finally, Mrs. Lamb tucked the clothes over
Mehitable with a jerk, and went down-stairs herself. They were having a
consultation there in the sitting-room. It was decided that Mr. Green
should drive to Mr. Pitkin's, about a quarter of a mile away, and see if
they knew anything of Hannah Maria, and get Mr. Pitkin to aid in the
search.
"I wouldn't go over to Timothy's to-night, if I were you," said Mrs.
Green. "Jenny's dreadful nervous, and it would use her all up; she
thought so much of Hannah Maria."
Mrs. Green's voice broke with a sob.
"No, I'm not going there," returned Mr. Green. "It isn't any use. It
isn't likely they know anything about her. It's a good five mile off."
Mr. Green got into his buggy and drove away. Mrs. Green went home, and
Aunt Susy and the other aunt with her. Nobody slept in the Lamb or the
Green house that night, except Grandmother Lamb. She dozed in her chair,
although they could not induce her to go to bed. But first she started
the kitchen fire, and made another bowl of thoroughwort tea for
Mehitable.
"She'll be sick jest as sure as the world, if she doesn't drink it,"
said she. And Mehitable lifted her swollen, teary face from the pillow
and drank it. "She don't know any more where that Green girl has gone to
than I do," said Grandmother Lamb, when she went down with the bowl.
"There isn't any use in pesterin' the child so."
Mrs. Lamb watched for Mr. Green to return from Mr. Pitkin's, and ran out
to the road. He had with him Mr. Pitkin's hired man and eldest boy.
"Pitkin's harnessed up and gone the other way, over to the village, and
we're goin' to look round the place thorough, an'--look in the well," he
said, in a husky voice.
"If she would only tell," groaned Mrs. Lamb. "I've done all I can. I
can't _make_ her speak."
Mr. Green groaned in response, and drove on. Mrs. Lamb went in, and
stood at her sitting-room window and watched the lights over at the
Green house. They flitted from one room to another all night. At dawn
Aunt Susy ran over with her shawl over her head. She was wan and
hollow-eyed.
"They haven't found a sign of her," said she. "They've looked
everywhere. The Pitkin boy's been down the well. Mr. Pitkin has just
come over from the village, and a lot of men are going out to hunt for
her as soon as it's light. If Mehitable only would tell!"
"I can't make her," said Mrs. Lamb, despairingly.
"I know what I think you'd ought to do," said Aunt Susy, in a desperate
voice.
"What?"
"_Whip her._"
"Oh, Susy, I can't! I never whipped her in my life."
"Well, I don't care. I should." Aunt Susy had the tragic and resolute
expression of an inquisitor. She might have been proposing the rack. "I
think it is your duty," she added.
Mrs. Lamb sank into the rocking-chair and wept; but within an hour's
time Mehitable stood shivering and sobbing in her night-gown, and held
out her pretty little hands while her mother switched them with a small
stick. Aunt Susy was crying down in the sitting-room. "Did she tell?"
she inquired, when her sister, quite pale and trembling, came in with
the stick.
"No," replied Mrs. Lamb. "I never will whip that dear child again, come
what will." And she broke the stick in two and threw it out of the
window.
As the day advanced teams began to pass the house. Now and then one
heard a signal horn. The search for Hannah Maria was being organized.
Mrs. Lamb and the aunts cooked a hot breakfast, and carried it over to
Mr. and Mrs. Green. They felt as if they must do something to prove
their regret and sympathy. Mehitable was up and dressed, but her poor
little auburn locks were not curled, and the pink roundness seemed gone
from her face. She sat quietly in her little chair in the sitting-room
and held her doll. Her mother had punished her very tenderly, but there
were some red marks on her little hands. She had not eaten any
breakfast, but her grandmother had kindly made her some thoroughwort
tea. The bitterness of life seemed actually tasted to poor little
Mehitable Lamb.
It was about nine o'clock, and Mrs. Lamb and the aunts had just carried
the hot breakfast over to the Green's, and were arranging it on the
table, when another team drove into the yard. It was a white horse and a
covered wagon. On the front seat sat Hannah Maria's aunt, Jenny Dunn,
and a young lady, one of Hannah Maria's cousins. Mrs. Green ran to the
door. "Oh, Jenny, _have_ you heard?" she gasped. Then she screamed, for
Hannah Maria was peeking out of the rear of the covered wagon. She was
in there with another young lady cousin, and a great basket of yellow
apples.
"Hannah Maria Green, where _have_ you been?" cried her mother.
"Why, what do you think! That child walked 'way over to our house last
night," Aunt Jenny said, volubly; "and Timothy was gone with the horse,
and there wasn't anything to do but to keep her. I knew you wouldn't be
worried about her, for she said the little Lamb girl knew where she'd
gone, and--"
Mrs. Green jerked the wagon door open and pulled Hannah Maria out. "Go
right into the house!" she said, in a stern voice. "Here she wouldn't
tell where you'd gone. And the whole town hunting! Go in."
Hannah Maria's face changed from uneasy and deprecating smiles to the
certainty of grief. "Oh, I made her promise not to tell, but I s'posed
she would," she sobbed. "I didn't know 'twas going to be so far. Oh,
mother, I'm sorry!"
"Go right in," said her mother.
And Hannah Maria went in. Aunt Susy and Mrs. Lamb pushed past her as she
entered. They were flying home to make amends to Mehitable, with kind
words and kisses, and to take away the taste of the thoroughwort tea
with sponge-cake and some of the best strawberry jam.
Later in the forenoon Mehitable, with the row of smooth water-curls
round her head, dressed in her clean pink calico, sat on the door-step
with her doll. Her face was as smiling as the china one. Hannah Maria
came slowly into the yard. She carried a basket of early apples. Her
eyes were red. "Here are some apples for you," she said. "And I'm sorry
I made you so much trouble. I'm not going to eat any."
"Thank you," said Mehitable. "Did your mother scold?" she inquired,
timidly.
"She did first. I'm dreadful sorry. I won't ever do so again. I--kind of
thought you'd tell."
"I'm not a telltale," said Mehitable.
"No, you're not," said Hannah Maria.