STARS AND STRIPES.
On the rude bench by her cabin door sat Hagar Warren, her black eyes
peering out into the woods and her quick ear turned to catch the first
sound of bounding footsteps, which came at last, and Maggie Miller was
sitting by her side.
"What is it, darling?" Hagar asked, and her shriveled hand smoothed
caressingly the silken hair, as she looked into the glowing face of
the young girl, and half guessed what was written there.
To Theo Maggie had whispered the words, "I am engaged," and Theo had
coldly answered: "Pshaw! Grandma will quickly break that up. Why,
Henry Warner is comparatively poor! Mr. Douglas told me so, or rather
I quizzed him until I found it out. He says, though, that Henry has
rare business talents, and he could not do without him."
To the latter part of Theo's remark Maggie paid little heed; but the
mention of her grandmother troubled her. She would oppose it, Maggie
was sure of that, and it was to talk on this very subject that she had
come to Hagar's cottage.
"Just the way I s'posed it would end," said Hagar, when Maggie, with
blushing, half-averted face, told the story of her engagement. "Just
the way I s'posed 'twould end, but I didn't think 'twould be so
quick."
"Two months and a half is a great while, and then we have been
together so much," replied Maggie, at the same time asking if Hagar
did not approve her choice.
"Henry Warner's well enough," answered Hagar. "I've watched him close
and see no evil in him; but he isn't the one for you, nor are you the
one for him. You are both too wild, too full of fun, and if yoked
together will go to destruction, I know. You need somebody to hold you
back, and so does he."
Involuntarily Maggie thought of Rose, mentally resolving to be, if
possible, more like her.
"You are not angry with me?" said Hagar, observing Maggie's silence.
"You asked my opinion, and I gave it to you. You are too young to know
who you like. Henry Warner is the first man you ever knew, and in two
years' time you'll tire of him."
"Tire of him, Hagar? Tire of Henry Warner?" cried Maggie a little
indignantly. "You do not know me, if you think I'll ever tire of him;
and then, too, did I tell you grandma keeps writing to me about a Mr.
Carrollton, who she says is wealthy, fine-looking, highly educated,
and very aristocratic--and that last makes me hate him! I've heard so
much about aristocracy that I'm sick of it, and just for that reason
I would not have this Mr. Carrollton if I knew he'd make me queen of
England. But grandma's heart is set upon it, I know, and she thinks
of course he would marry me--says he is delighted with my
daguerreotype--that awful one, too, with the staring eyes. In
grandma's last letter he sent me a note. 'Twas beautifully written,
and I dare say he is a fine young man, at least he talks common sense,
but I shan't answer it; and, if you'll believe me, I used part of
it in lighting Henry's cigar, and with the rest I shall light
firecrackers on the Fourth of July; Henry has bought a lot of them,
and we're going to have fun. How grandma would scold!--but I shall
marry Henry Warner, anyway. Do you think she will oppose me, when she
sees how determined I am?"
"Of course she will," answered Hagar. "I know those Carrolltons--they
are a haughty race; and if your grandmother has one of them in view
she'll turn you from her door sooner than see you married to another,
and an American, too."
There was a moment's silence, and then, with an unnatural gleam in
her eye, old Hagar turned towards Maggie, and, grasping her shoulder,
said: "If she does this thing, Maggie Miller,--if she casts you
off,--will you take me for your grandmother? Will you let me live with
you? I'll be your drudge, your slave; say, Maggie, may I go with you?
Will you call me grandmother? I'd willingly die if only once I could
hear you speak to me thus, and know it was in love."
For a moment Maggie looked at her in astonishment; then thinking to
herself, "She surely is half-crazed," she answered laughingly: "Yes,
Hagar, if grandma casts me off, you may go with me. I shall need your
care, but I can't promise to call you grandma, because you know you
are not."
The corners of Hagar's mouth worked nervously, but her teeth shut
firmly over the thin, white lip, forcing back the wild words trembling
there, and the secret was not told.
"Go home, Maggie Miller," she said at last, rising slowly to her feet.
"Go home now, and leave me alone. I am willing you should marry Henry
Warner--nay, I wish you to do it; but you must remember your promise."
Maggie was about to answer, when her thoughts were directed to another
channel by the sight of George Douglas and Theo coming slowly down the
shaded pathway which led past Hagar's door. Old Hagar saw them too,
and, whispering to Maggie, said, "There's another marriage brewing, or
the signs do not tell true, and madam will sanction this one, too, for
there's money there, and gold can purify any blood."
Ere Maggie could reply Theo called out, "You here, Maggie, as usual?"
adding, aside, to her companion: "She has the most unaccountable
taste, so different from me, who cannot endure anything low and
vulgar. Can you? But I need not ask," she continued, "for your
associations have been of a refined nature."
George Douglas did not answer, for his thoughts were back in the brown
farmhouse at the foot of the hill, where his boyhood was passed, and
he wondered what the high-bred lady at his side would say if she could
see the sunburned man and plain, old-fashioned woman who called him
their son George Washington. He would not confess that he was ashamed
of his parentage, for he tried to be a kind and dutiful child, but he
would a little rather that Theo Miller should not know how democratic
had been his early training. So he made no answer, but, addressing
himself to Maggie, asked how she could find it in her heart to leave
her patient so long.
"I'm going back directly," she said, and donning her hat she started
for home, thinking she had gained but little satisfaction from Hagar,
who, as Douglas and Theo passed on, resumed her seat by the door, and,
listening to the sound of Margaret's retreating footsteps, muttered:
"The old light-heartedness is gone. There are shadows gathering round
her; for once in love, she'll never be as free and joyous again. But
it can't be helped; it's the destiny of women, and I only hope this
Warner is worthy of her. But he aint. He's too wild--too full of what
Hagar Warren calls bedevilment. And Maggie does everything he tells
her to do. Not content with tearing down his bed-curtains, which have
hung there full twenty years, she's set things all cornerwise, because
the folks do so in Worcester, and has turned the parlor into a
smoking-room, till all the air of Hillsdale can't take away that
tobacco scent. Why, it almost knocks me down!" and the old lady
groaned aloud, as she recounted to herself the recent innovations upon
the time-honored habits of her mistress' house.
Henry Warner was, indeed, rather a fast young man, but it needed the
suggestive presence of George Douglas to bring out his true character;
and for the four days succeeding the arrival of the latter there were
rare doings at the old stone house, where the astonished and rather
delighted servants looked on in amazement while the young men sang
their jovial songs and drank of the rare old wine which Maggie,
utterly fearless of what her grandmother might say, brought from the
cellar below. But when, on the morning of the Fourth, Henry Warner
suggested that they have a celebration, or at least hang out the
American flag by way of showing their patriotism, there were signs of
rebellion in the kitchen, while even Mrs. Jeffrey, who had long since
ceased to interfere, felt it her duty to remonstrate. Accordingly, she
descended to the parlor, where she found George Douglas and Maggie
dancing to the tune of "Yankee Doodle," which Theo played upon the
piano, while Henry Warner whistled a most stirring accompaniment! To
be heard above that din was impossible, and involuntarily patting her
own slippered foot to the lively strain the distressed little lady
went back to her room, wondering what Madam Conway would say if she
knew how her house was being desecrated.
But Madam Conway did not know. She was three thousand miles away, and
with this distance between them Maggie dared do anything; so when the
flag was again mentioned, she answered apologetically, as if it were
something of which they ought to be ashamed: "We never had any, but
we can soon make one, I know. 'Twill be fun to see it float from the
housetop!" and, flying up the stairs to the dusty garret, she drew
from a huge oaken chest a scarlet coat which had belonged to the
former owner of the place, who little thought, as he sat in state,
that his favorite coat would one day furnish material for the emblem
of American freedom!
No such thought as this, however, obtruded itself upon Maggie as she
bent over the chest. "The coat is of no use," she said, and gathering
it up she ran back to the parlor, where, throwing it across Henry's
lap, she told how it had belonged to her great-great-grandfather, who
at the time of the Revolution went home to England. The young men
exchanged a meaning look, and then burst into a laugh, but the cause
of their merriment they did not explain, lest the prejudices of the
girls should be aroused.
"This is just the thing," said Henry, entering heart and soul into the
spirit of the fun. "This is grand. Can't you find some blue for the
groundwork of the stars?"
Maggie thought a moment, and then exclaimed: "Oh, yes--I have it;
grandma has a blue satin bodice which she wore when she was a young
lady. She once gave me a part of the back for my doll's dress. She
won't care if I cut up the rest for a banner."
"Of course not," answered George Douglas. "She'll be glad to have
it used for such a laudable purpose," and walking to the window
he laughed heartily as he saw in fancy the wrath of the proud
Englishwoman when she learned the use to which her satin bodice had
been appropriated.
The waist was brought in a twinkling, and then, when Henry asked for
some white, Maggie cried, "A sheet will be just the thing--one of
grandma's small linen ones. It won't hurt it a bit," she added, as
she saw a shadow on Theo's brow, and, mounting to the top of the high
chest of drawers, she brought out a sheet of finest linen, which, with
rose leaves and fragrant herbs, had been carefully packed away.
It was a long, delightful process, the making of that banner; and
Maggie's voice rang out loud and clear as she saw how cleverly Henry
Warner managed the shears, cutting the red coat into stripes. The
arrangement of the satin fell to Maggie's lot; and while George
Douglas made the stars, Theo looked on a little doubtfully--not that
her nationality was in any way affected, for what George Douglas
sanctioned was by this time right with her; but she felt some
misgiving as to what her grandmother might say; and, thinking if she
did nothing but look on and laugh the blame would fall on Maggie, she
stood aloof, making occasionally a suggestion, and seeming as pleased
as anyone when at last the flag was done. A quilting-frame served as
a flagstaff, and Maggie was chosen to plant it upon the top of the
house, where was a cupola, or miniature tower, overlooking the
surrounding country. Leading to this tower was a narrow staircase, and
up these stairs Maggie bore the flag, assisted by one of the servant
girls, whose birthplace was green Erin, and whose broad, good-humored
face shone with delight as she fastened the pole securely in its
place, and then shook aloft her checked apron, in answer to the cheer
which came up from below, when first the American banner waved over
the old stone house.
Attracted by the noise, and wondering what fresh mischief they were
doing, Mrs. Jeffrey went out into the yard just in time to see the
flag of freedom as it shook itself out in the summer breeze.
"Heaven help me!" she ejaculated; "the 'Stars and Stripes' on Madam
Conway's house!" and, resolutely shutting her eyes, lest they should
look again on what to her seemed sacrilege, she groped her way back
to the house; and, retiring to her room, wrote to Madam Conway an
exaggerated account of the proceedings, bidding her hasten home or
everything would be ruined.
The letter being written, the good lady felt better--so much better,
indeed, that after an hour's deliberation she concluded not to send
it, inasmuch as it contained many complaints against the young lady
Margaret, who she knew was sure in the end to find favor in her
grandmother's eyes. This was the first time Mrs. Jeffrey had
attempted a letter to her employer, for Maggie had been the chosen
correspondent, Theo affecting to dislike anything like letter-writing.
On the day previous to Henry Warner's arrival at the stone house
Maggie had written to her grandmother, and ere the time came for her
to write again she had concluded to keep his presence there a secret:
so Madam Conway was, as yet, ignorant of his existence; and while
in the homes of the English nobility she bore herself like a royal
duchess, talking to young Arthur Carrollton of her beautiful
granddaughter, she little dreamed of the real state of affairs at
home.
But it was not for Mrs. Jeffrey to enlighten her, and tearing her
letter in pieces the governess sat down in her easy-chair by the
window, mentally congratulating herself upon the fact that "the two
young savages," as she styled Douglas and Warner, were to leave on the
morrow. This last act of theirs, the hoisting of the banner, had been
the culminating point; and, too indignant to sit with them at the same
table, she resolutely kept her room throughout the entire day, poring
intently over Baxter's "Saints' Rest," her favorite volume when at all
flurried or excited. Occasionally, too, she would stop her ears with
jeweler's cotton, to shut out the sound of "Hail, Columbia!" as it
came up to her from the parlor below, where the young men were doing
their best to show their patriotism.
Towards evening, alarmed by a whizzing sound, which seemed to be often
repeated, and wishing to know the cause, she stole halfway down the
stairs, when the mischievous Maggie greeted her with a "serpent,"
which, hissing beneath her feet, sent her quickly back to her
room, from which she did not venture again. Mrs. Jeffrey was very
good-natured, and reflecting that "young folks must have fun," she
became at last comparatively calm, and at an early hour sought her
pillow. But thoughts of "stars and stripes" waving directly over her
head, as she knew they were, made her nervous, and the long clock
struck the hour of two, and she was yet restless and wakeful,
notwithstanding the near approach of dawn.
"Maybe the 'Saints' Rest' will quiet me a trifle," she thought; and,
striking a light, she attempted to read; but in vain, for every word
was a star, every line a stripe, and every leaf a flag. Shutting the
book and hurriedly pacing the floor, she exclaimed: "It's of no use
trying to sleep, or meditate either. Baxter himself couldn't do it
with that thing over his head, and I mean to take it down. It's a duty
I owe to King George's memory, and to Madam Conway;" and, stealing
from her room, she groped her way up the dark, narrow stairway, until,
emerging into the bright moonlight, she stood directly beneath the
American banner, waving so gracefully in the night wind. "It's a
clever enough device," she said, gazing rather admiringly at it. "And
I'd let it be if I s'posed I could sleep a wink; but I can't. It's
worse for my nerves than strong green tea, and I'll not lie awake for
all the Yankee flags in Christendom." So saying, the resolute little
woman tugged at the quilt-frame until she loosened it from its
fastenings, and then started to return.
But, alas! the way was narrow and dark, the banner was large and
cumbersome, while the lady that bore it was nervous and weak. It is
not strange, then, that Maggie, who slept at no great distance, was
awakened by a tremendous crash, as of someone falling the entire
length of the tower stairs, while a voice, frightened and faint,
called out; "Help me, Margaret, do! I am dead! I know I am!"
Striking a light, Maggie hurried to the spot, while her merry laugh
aroused the servants, who came together in a body. Stretched upon the
floor, with one foot thrust entirely through the banner, which was
folded about her so that the quilt-frame lay directly upon her bosom,
was Mrs. Jeffrey, the broad frill of her cap standing up erect, and
herself asserting with every breath that "she was dead and buried, she
knew she was."
"Wrapped in a winding-sheet, I'll admit," said Maggie, "but not
quite dead, I trust;" and, putting down her light, she attempted to
extricate her governess, who continued to apologize for what she had
done. "Not that I cared so much about your celebrating America; but I
couldn't sleep with the thing over my head; I was going to put it back
in the morning before you were up. There! there! careful! It's broken
short off!" she screamed, as Maggie tried to release her foot from the
rent in the linen sheet, a rent which the frightened woman persisted
in saying she could darn as good as new, while at the same time she
implored of Maggie to handle carefully her ankle, which had been
sprained by the fall.
Maggie's recent experience in broken bones had made her quite an
adept, and taking the slight form of Mrs. Jeffrey in her arms she
carried her back to her room, where, growing more quiet, the old
lady told her how she happened to fall, saying she never thought of
stumbling, until she fancied that Washington and all his regiment were
after her, and when she turned her head to see, she lost her footing
and fell.
Forcing back her merriment, which in spite of herself would
occasionally burst forth, Maggie made her teacher as comfortable as
possible, and then stayed with her until morning, when, leaving her
in charge of a servant, she went below to say farewell to her guests.
Between George Douglas and Theo there were a few low-spoken words, she
granting him permission to write, while he promised to visit her again
in the early autumn. He had not yet talked to her of love, for Rose
Warner had still a home in his heart, and she must be dislodged ere
another could take her place. But his affection for her was growing
gradually less. Theo suited him well; her family suited him better,
and when at parting he took her hand in his he resolved to ask her for
it when next he came to Hillsdale.
Meanwhile between Henry Warner and Maggie there was a far more
affectionate farewell, he whispering to her of a time not far distant
when he would claim her as his own, and, she should go with him. He
would write to her every week, he said, and Rose should write too. He
would see Rose in a few days, and tell her of his engagement, which he
knew would please her.
"Let me send her a line," said Maggie, and on a tiny sheet of paper
she wrote: "Dear Rose: Are you willing I should be your sister
Maggie?"
Half an hour later, and Hagar Warren, coming through the garden gate,
looked after the carriage which bore the gentlemen to the depot,
muttering to herself: "I'm glad the high bucks have gone. A good
riddance to them both."
In her disorderly chamber, too, Mrs. Jeffrey hobbled on one foot to
the window, where, with a deep sigh of relief, she sent after the
young men a not very complimentary adieu, which was echoed in part by
the servants below, while Theo, on the piazza, exclaimed against the
lonesome old house, which was never so lonesome before, and Maggie
seated herself upon the stairs and cried!