"THE CHILD'S ALIVE."[*]
(* The following is a true incident.)
Samantha and Julia were gone to a neighbor's that afternoon, and
cousin Lydia was filling a husk-bed in the barn. There was no one at
home but lame and half-blind grandma Tenney.
"I don't care if they are gone, for they all think I'm a naughty, bad
girl," thought I. "O, why don't they love me? My mamma loves me, and
hugs me every day when I'm home."
I walked along to the well, my eyes half-blinded by tears. That
well-sweep had always fascinated me, and I had been allowed to play
with it freely; but lately cousin Joseph had observed that the curb,
or framework round the mouth of the well, was out of order; the boards
were old, and the nails were loosened; he should put on new boards as
soon as he could stop; but until he did so, I must let it alone. Would
I remember?
"Yes, sir," said I, at the same time thinking in this wise: "Why, I
drawed water day before yes'day, and he didn't say the boards were
old. How could they grow old in one day?"
Still I fully intended to obey. I forgot myself when I said,--
"Fel, le's do a washing, and wash our dollies' clo'es. I'll go get a
little tinpail to draw water with."
For I could not lift the bucket.
"Well," said she; "and I'll go get a cake o' soap."
She had heard nothing about the well-curb, and did not know we were
doing wrong to draw water. She enjoyed swinging the pole just as much
as I did, and we soon forgot our slight disagreement as we watched the
little pail drop slowly into the well.
"There are stars down there," said I, "for I saw 'em once; they say
it's stars, but I shouldn't wonder if 'twas pieces of gold--should
you?"
I was letting the pail down as I spoke, and Fel was leaning against
the curb, peeping into the well.
"O, I forgot," cried I; "cousin Joseph said--"
But even before I had finished the sentence, the rotten boards gave
way, and Fel pitched suddenly forward into the well!
My brain reeled; but next moment my reason--all I ever had and more
too--came to my aid. I can't account for it, but I felt as strong and
brave as a little woman, and called out,--
"Take hold of the pole, Fel! take hold of the pole!"
I don't know whether she heard me or not, for her screams were coming
up hoarse and hollow from the watery depths. All I know is, she did
put out both her little hands, and clutch that short pole. The
ten-quart pail was dangling from the end of the pole, within two feet
of the water.
What was I to do? I could draw up the little tin pail, but not such a
heavy weight as Fel. My hope was that I might keep her above water a
while, and as long as I could, of course she would not drown. It was a
wise thought, and showed great presence of mind in a child of my age.
I am glad I have this one redeeming fact to tell of myself--I, who ran
wild at the silly story of a make-believe Big Giant!
Yes, I held up that long pole with all the might of my little arms,
crying all the while to Seth in the barn,--
"Come quick! come quick!"
It was just as much as I could do. I am sure strength must have been
granted me for the task. For a long while, or what seemed to me a long
while, nobody heard. Seth was making a great noise with his flail, and
if my shout reached his ears he only thought it child's play; but when
it kept on and on, so shrill and so full of distress, he dropped his
flail at last and ran.
Not a moment too soon; my little strength was giving out.
"Jethro! what's this?" cried he, and caught the pole from my hand.
"Well, you're a good one! Don't be scared, little dear." That was to
Fel. "Hold on tight, and I'll fetch you up in a jiffy."
She did hold on; stupefied as she was, she still had sense enough to
cling to the pole.
"There, there, that's a lady! Both arms round my neck! Up she comes!"
By that time cousin Lydia was on the spot, looking ashy white, and
Seth, with Fel in his arms, was rocking her back and forth like a
baby, and saying, "There, there, little girlie, don't cry."
"The Lord be praised!" exclaimed cousin Lydia; "the child's alive! the
child's alive!"
"Yes, and this Marjie here is a good one," said Seth, pointing to me;
"she's got the right stuff in her. I never saw a young one of that age
do anything so complete in my life."
I cried then; it was the first time I could stop to cry. Cousin Lydia
put her arms round me, and kissed me; and that kiss was sweet to my
soul.
Seth carried Fel into the house. She was trembling and sobbing
violently, and did not seem at first to understand much that was said
to her. Cousin Lydia rubbed her, and gave her some cordial to drink,
and I looked on, half proud and half ashamed. Seth kept saying there
were five feet of water in the well, and if I hadn't held Fel up, she
must have drowned before anybody could get to her. I knew I had been
very brave, and had saved Fel's life. I knew it before Seth said so.
But who drowned her in the first place? I expected every minute cousin
Lydia would ask that question; but she didn't; she never seemed to
think of it.
When the young ladies came home, Miss Julia took me in her lap, and
said,--
"Well, Marjery, you're a smart child; there's no doubt about it--a
very smart child."
Just think of that from Miss Julia! It wouldn't have been much from
Miss Samantha, for she had a soft way with her; but Miss Julia! Why,
it puffed me out, and puffed me out, till there was about as much
substance to me as there is to a great hollow soap-bubble.
"Yes," said cousin Joseph, in his slow way, "Marjery is smart enough,
but she ought to be very smart to make up for her heedlessness."
There, he had pricked the bubble that time! I twinkled right out.
And it was the last time Julia admired me; for she happened to think
just then of her gold watch. It was not on Fel's neck; it had gone
into the well where the stars were. Seth got it out, but it was
battered and bruised, and something had happened to the inside of it,
so it wouldn't tick.
Miss Julia never took me in her lap again; but she liked Fel as well
as ever. She said Fel was not at all to blame. I knew she wasn't, and
somehow, after that dreadful affair, I was willing people should love
Fel better than me. I had been fairly frightened out of my crossness
to her. O, what if I _had_ drowned her? Every time I wanted to snub
her I thought of that, and stopped. I suppose I put my arms round her
neck fifty times, and asked, "Do you love me _jus_ the same as if I
hadn't drowned you?"
And she said "Yes," every time, the precious darling!
I had a very lame arm not long after this; it almost threw me into a
fever. I was ashamed to have that doctor come, for they had told me
what was the matter. It has always been my luck, children, if I ever
tried to show off, to get nicely paid for it!
Now I think of it, Dotty, how easily Fel could have turned upon me at
this time, and said, "Ho, little meddle-girl! Got a sore arm, too!"
But you may be sure she never thought of such a thing. It grieved her
to see me lie in bed, and toss about with pain. She sat beside me, and
patted my cheeks with her little, soft hands, and sometimes read to
me, from a Sabbath school book, about a good girl, named Mary
Lothrop,--she could read as well as most grown people, for she really
was a remarkable child,--but I didn't like to hear about Mary Lothrop,
and begged her to stop.
"She's too tremendous good," said I. "It killed her to be so good, and
I'm afraid--"
I believe I never told Fel what I was afraid of; but it was, that she
was "too tremendous good" herself, and would "die little," as Mary
Lothrop did. I thought she seemed like Mary; and hadn't Miss Julia
said she was too good for this world? O, what if God should want her
up in heaven? I had thought of this before; but if I had really
believed it, I should all along have treated her very differently. We
should none of us speak unkindly if we believed our friends were soon
going away from us, out of this world. What would I give now if I had
never called the tears into that child's gentle eyes!
My arm got well, and the next thing that happened was a letter from
home--to us two little chickens, Fel and me both. Seth brought it
from the "post-ovviz," directed to Miss Ruphelle Allen and Miss
Margaret Parlin, care of Joseph Tenney, Esq. Here it lies in my
writing-desk, almost as yellow as gold, and quite as precious. How
many times do you suppose we little girls read it and kissed it? How
many times do you suppose we went to sleep with it under our pillows?
We took turns doing that, and thought it brought us pleasant dreams.
Her mother wrote one page of the letter, and my mother another; 'Ria a
few lines, and Ned these words, in a round hand:--
"DEAR SISTER: I suppose you want to hear all about our house and
barn. I went to Gus Allen's party. We trained, and a pretty set
of fellows we were."
That was all he told about our house and barn, and he did not sign
his name. Perhaps he would have said more after resting a while; but
Miss Rubie saved him the trouble, and ended the letter, by inviting
"you darlings,"--Fel and me,--to her wedding, which was to take place
in a few weeks.
We had a little waltzing to do then! A wedding! We danced right and
left, with that letter under our feet.
"I should think you'd better read on, and see what the man's name is,
you little Flutterbudgets," said cousin Joseph, laughing at us.
We hadn't thought of that. We looked, and found it was uncle John!
Another surprise. It was a new idea to both of us, that a man who had
had one wife should ever have another. We remembered aunt Persis, who
wanted to steam Fel.
"And she died years, and years, and _years_ ago."
"About eleven months," said cousin Lydia. Your uncle John is obliged
to go to England this fall, and wants to take Zed; and I am very glad
Miss Rubie is willing to be Zed's mother, and will go with them."
"How can she be his mother?" said I. "She's his auntie."
But we didn't care about the relationship, Fel and I; all we cared
about was the wedding. And I did hope I should have a string of wax
beads to wear on my neck.
Here is our reply to the letter. (The words in Italics are Fel's.)
"DEAR LITTLE MOTHERS: We thought we would write to you. _We are
glad we shall go to the wedding._ Do you think you can buy me
some wax beeds? _We want to see you very much._ But I want the
wax beeds, too. Fel said a prayer for my sickness. I think she
is a very pias girl. The cow is dead, &c., & ect. So good by."
"From MAJ and RUPHELLE."