A FEAST AFTER A FAMINE.
John Smith had done his best to obey these confused demands. He brought
water, and held it in a stone pitcher, while Mrs. Smith thrust her hand
to the bottom and sprinkled little Jimmy’s face; but this failed to
bring a sign of life back. So he put down the pitcher, and brought a
little tin measure half-full of brandy, from some secret corner back in
the store, which his better half snatched from him and held to those
pale lips. Some drops trickled through the teeth that had fallen
slightly apart, and, after a little, the boy began to stir. Then the
good woman burst into tears that came in a torrent, deluging all the
full-blown roses in her cheeks, and shaking her bosom with sobs.
“There,” she cried holding the lad out on her lap as he struggled to
life again; “take him, heft him, make sure what a shadow he is; then
down upon your knees, John Smith, and thank God that you’re not quite a
murderer! Your meanness will be the death of me yet. Now I warn you. Me
and the children, your duty to take care of us? John Smith, John Smith,
now don’t get me out of patience.”
“Well, then, what if I say that I am sorry—right down sorry?”
“In that case, John Smith——”
“That I will let them have anything they want, without charging till
better times come round,” continued the grocer, soaking a cracker in
brandy, and feeding it in fragments to the boy.
“John—John Smith, I always did say——”
“And what we haven’t got, I’ll go right out and buy with our own
money—sausages, beef-steak, mutton-chops. Will that pacify you, Mary
Jane?”
So the two set to work in earnest, while little James looked on,
somewhat faint still, and pleasantly bewildered, with a strong taste of
brandy in his mouth, and a warmth in his whole system that he had not
felt for months.
“Don’t take too much of that, Jimmy dear,” said Mrs. Smith, looking up
from the basket she was packing. “Dried-beef, crackers, tea, bread; just
stuff in a codfish, Smith, edgeways down this side, and fill up the
chinks with apples—them red ones are the best. As I was saying, Jimmy,
one cracker can soak up no end of moisture, and your cheeks are getting
red. Now, Smith, run out, and hurry back with the other things.”
Smith went out, and his wife, in her rich benevolence, began to fill
innumerable paper bags with dried prunes, raisins, loaf-sugar, and other
little dainties, which, in her eager haste to pack up substantials, had
escaped her mind till then. These she pressed down into the basket, and
stuffed into her own pocket, which were quite full when her husband
returned with three or four paper parcels in his hand, looking more
radiant than any man who had bribed his wife’s forgiveness with a
diamond bracelet could have done.
“Now, wife, you are ready?”
“Stop a minute. John Smith, you are an angel, coat, boots, and all; but
I’ve thought of something. Any fire in your kitchen, Jimmy, dear?”
“No, ma’am. We haven’t had any use for a fire lately!”
“Exactly. No wood, no coal?”
James shook his head. Mrs. Smith opened a side door, and called to some
one in the upper rooms, in which her family dwelt.
“Kate! Kate Gorman!”
“Well, marum, what’s to the fore now?”
“Come down stairs, Kate—but no matter. Is there a good fire in the
range?”
“Never a better!”
“Then take this, and this; broil the steak, fry the ham, slice up the
cold potatoes left after dinner, and fry them; then heat some tin pans,
and put them in.”
“Thin I’m not to set the table, marum?”
“No. Make a strong pot of coffee, and one of tea, bring ’em hot;
pickles, mustard; and don’t forget some of them strawberry preserves,
too.”
“But what am I to do with the same, Mistress Smith?”
“Bring them all over to the little white house, with the morning
glories. Open the gate softly, and come round to the back door. Step
down here, Kate, and I will tell you.”
Kate stepped down, and in the darkness of the stair-case received very
particular instructions, which she obeyed implicitly.
Then Mrs. Smith returned to the store, took up the heavy basket, and
called James.
“Run on first, now,” she said, “and keep them all busy about something;
take half a dozen apples, and give them each one; then step back and let
me into the kitchen. It is sure to be ready and neat as wax. I’ve got
matches here; then keep them all busy, and be a little boisterous till I
get things ship-shape.”
Little James obeyed; and a few moments after burst in upon the mournful
silence into which his mother and sisters had fallen, with eyes as
bright as stars, and a heap of red apples in his arms.
“Didn’t I tell you?” he cried out, pouring the apples into Eva’s lap.
“One, two, three, four, five. One a piece, and another to spare. Here,
mother, the biggest for you, plump and rosy as Mrs. Smith’s cheek, and
smelling luscious. There, Ruthy, darling, I’ll get a knife and peel
yours.”
With this the artful little rogue ran into the kitchen, unbolted the
door, and seizing on a knife, was back again in an instant.
“No, no, James, dear! We must not waste good things like that,” said
Ruth, holding out her slender hand for the fruit which she regarded with
longing eyes. “Put away your knife—I am in a hurry for my apple.”
James sprang to her couch, held the apple to her mouth, and laughed
aloud as her teeth sunk into its crimson side.
“Eva, why don’t you pitch into yours?” he said. “Just watch Ruth, then
see how mother is going it.”
“I do not need it. These two will keep over.”
“Oh, yes! Keep over, of course. Well, just as you like. But I say, let
to-morrow take care of itself. ‘Hi diddle diddle, the cat’s in the
fiddle, the cow——’ No, that’s all nonsense; the animal couldn’t do it,
but I could. There, now, what do people have foot-stools lying about
loose for. One step more, and the only gentleman of this family would
have been full length at your feet. Mother!”
The boy sprung to his mother, and kneeling before her, pulled down the
hand she had lifted to her face, and kissed it tenderly.
“Oh, mother! I thought nothing could make you cry.”
“I am growing childish, James; sickness weakens one so,” answered the
woman, who was usually firm as iron. “Besides, gratitude brings tears
easy.”
“Yes,” said Ruth, thoughtfully; “for rain, there must be some warmth;
the cold, bitter days only bring down hail and sleet.”
“Tell us,” said the mother, wiping her eyes, “where did you get these?”
“From Mrs. Smith, mother. Isn’t she splendid?”
“But you did not ask her again?”
“Yes, I did; not for them, but to let me work for something to keep us
alive; so these apples were handy, you see, and I’m going lots of
errands—never you fear!”
“How they set one craving for more,” said the old lady, who had the
great hunger of a past fever on her, which was maddening—and she eyed
the two apples in Eva’s lap ravenously.
Eva reached forth one of the apples, but James put it back, shaking his
head playfully at the mother’s greed.
“Not healthy to eat too much at once. Wait a little, and then——”
That instant the door leading into the kitchen was flung open, and the
delicious scent of hot beef-steak and steaming coffee filled the little
parlor. Eva and Mrs. Laurence started up, and cried out in their joyful
amazement, for there, lighted by two lamps, was a table, well spread
with all their scarcely-used dishes, on which was a repast such as they
had not tasted for months.
“Take your place, mother — the armed-chair for you. Pour out the coffee,
Eva, while I roll Ruthy up to the table. Want help? Well, yes, you may
lend a hand this once, for a cracker or so, soaked in bitterness, don’t
make giants of boys all at once. There, Miss Ruthy, what do you think of
that?”
Miss Ruthy, the moment her chair was drawn close to the table, folded
her hands on the white cloth, and bowed her face upon it, thanked God as
he is seldom thanked at any meal. Then the bowed heads were lifted, and
this little household, so downcast an hour before, came out into the
sunshine of this marvellous plenty; and those sad faces grew bright with
smiles of thankfulness, while two eager faces peeped in through the
morning glories at the window, enjoying it all, as if the grocer’s wife
and her servant had been good fairies.