DANCE OF THE RAINBOW FAIRIES
GEORGINA, intent on washing the frying-pan and cleaning the last vestige
of burnt egg from the top of the stove, did not hear Mrs. Saggs come in
at the front door with Aunt Elspeth's dinner on a tray. Nor did she hear
the murmur of voices that went on while it was being eaten. The bedroom
was in the front of the house, and the rasping noise she was making as
she scratched away with the edge of an iron spoon, kept her from hearing
anything else. So when the door into the kitchen suddenly opened it gave
her such a start that she dropped the dishcloth into the woodbox.
Mrs. Saggs sniffed suspiciously. There was something reproachful in the
mere tilt of her nose which Georgina felt and resented.
"I thought I smelled something burning."
"I s'pect you did," Georgina answered calmly. "But it's all over now. I
was getting my dinner early, so's I could sit with Aunt Elspeth
afterward."
Mrs. Saggs had both hands full, as she was carrying her tray, so she
could not open the stove to look in; but she walked over towards it and
peered at it from a closer viewpoint, continuing to sniff. But there was
nothing for her to discover, no clue to the smell. Everything which
Georgina had used was washed and back in place now. The sharp eyes made
a survey of the kitchen, watching Georgina narrowly as the child, having
rinsed the dishcloth after its fall, leaned out of the back door to hang
it on a bush in the sun, as Uncle Darcy always did.
"You've been taught to be real neat, haven't you?" she said in an
approving tone which made Georgina like her better. Then her glance fell
on a work-basket which had been left sitting on top of the flour barrel.
In it was a piece of half-finished mending. The sharp eyes softened.
"I declare!" she exclaimed. "It's downright pitiful the way that old man
tries to do for himself and his poor old wife. It's surprising, though,
how well he gets along with the housework and taking care of her and
all."
She glanced again at the needle left sticking in the clumsy unfinished
seam, and recognized the garment.
"Well, I wish you'd look at that! Even trying to patch her poor old
nightgown for her! Can you beat that? Here, child, give it to me. My
hands are full with this tray, so just stick it under my arm. I'll mend
it this afternoon while I'm setting talking to the company."
She tightened her grip on the bundle which Georgina thrust under her
arm, and looked down at it.
"Them pitiful old stiff fingers of his'n!" she exclaimed. "They sure
make a botch of sewing, but they don't ever make a botch of being kind.
Well, I'm off now. Guess you'd better run in and set with Mis' Darcy for
a spell, for she's waked up real natural and knowing now, and seems to
crave company."
Georgina went, but paused on the way, seeing the familiar rooms in a new
light, since Mrs. Saggs' remarks had given her new and illuminating
insight. Everywhere she looked there was something as eloquent as that
bit of unfinished mending to bear witness that Uncle Darcy was far more
than just a weather-beaten old man with a smile and word of cheer for
everybody. Ringing the Towncrier's bell and fishing and blueberrying and
telling yarns and helping everybody bear their trouble was the least
part of his doings. That was only what the world saw. That was all she
had seen herself until this moment.
Now she was suddenly aware of his bigness of soul which made him capable
of an infinite tenderness and capacity to serve. His devotion to Aunt
Elspeth spread an encircling care around her as a great oak throws the
arms of its shade, till her comfort was his constant thought, her
happiness his greatest desire.
"Them pitiful, old, stiff fingers of his'n!" How could Mrs. Saggs speak
of them so? They were heroic, effectual fingers. Theirs was something
far greater than the Midas touch--they transmuted the smallest service
into Love's gold.
Georgina, with her long stretching up to books that were "over her
head," understood this without being able to put it into words. Nor
could she put into words the longing which seized her like a dull ache,
for _Barby_ to be loved and cared for like that, to be as constantly and
supremely considered. She couldn't understand how Aunt Elspeth, old and
wrinkled and childish, could be the object of such wonderful devotion,
and Barby, her adorable, winsome Barby, call forth less.
"Not one letter in four long months," she thought bitterly.
"Dan'l," called Aunt Elspeth feebly from the next room, and Georgina
went in to assure her that Uncle Darcy was _not_ out in the boat and
would not be brought home drowned. He was attending to some important
business and would be back bye and bye. In the meantime, she was going
to hang her prism in the window where the sun could touch it and let the
rainbow fairies dance over the bed.
The gay flashes of color, darting like elfin wings here and there as
Georgina twisted the ribbon, pleased Aunt Elspeth as if she were a
child. She lifted a thin, shriveled hand to catch at them and gave a
weak little laugh each time they eluded her grasp. It was such a thin
hand, almost transparent, with thick, purplish veins standing out on it.
Georgina glanced at her own and wondered if Aunt Elspeth's ever could
have been dimpled and soft like hers. It did not seem possible that this
frail old woman with the snowy-white hair and sunken cheeks could ever
have been a rosy child like herself. As if in answer to her thought,
Aunt Elspeth spoke, groping again with weak, ineffectual passes after
the rainbows.
"I can't catch them. They bob around so. That's the way I used to be,
always on the move. They called me 'Bouncing Bet!'"
"Tell me about that time," urged Georgina. Back among early memories
Aunt Elspeth's mind walked with firm, unfailing tread. It was only among
those of later years that she hesitated and groped her way as if lost in
fog. By the time the clock had struck the hours twice more Georgina felt
that she knew intimately a mischievous girl whom her family called
Bouncing Bet for her wild ways, but who bore no trace of a resemblance
to the feeble old creature who recounted her pranks.
And the blue-eyed romp who could sail a boat like a boy or swim like a
mackerel grew up into a slender slip of a lass with a shy grace which
made one think of a wild-flower. At least that is what the old
daguerreotype showed Georgina when Aunt Elspeth sent her rummaging
through a trunk to find it. It was taken in a white dress standing
beside a young sailor in his uniform. No wonder Uncle Darcy looked proud
in the picture. But Georgina never would have known it was Uncle Darcy
if she hadn't been told. He had changed, too.
The picture made Georgina think of one of Barby's songs, and presently
when Aunt Elspeth was tired of talking she sang it to her:
"_Hand in hand when our life was May.
Hand in hand when our hair is gray.
Sorrow and sun for everyone
As the years roll on.
Hand in hand when the long night tide
Gently covers us side by side----
Ah, lad, though we know not when,
Love will be with us forever then.
Always the same, Darby my own,
Always the same to your old wife Joan!_"
After that there were other songs which Aunt Elspeth asked for, "Oh,
wert thou in the cauld blast," and "Robin Adair." Then came a long
tiresome pause when Georgina didn't know what to do next, and Aunt
Elspeth turned her head restlessly on the pillow and seemed uneasy.
Georgina wished with all her heart she was out of the stuffy little
bedroom. If she had gone with the others, she would be speeding along
the smooth, white road now, coming home from Brewster, with the wind and
sunshine of all the wide, free outdoors around her.
Aunt Elspeth drew a long, tired sigh.
"Maybe you'd like me to read to you," ventured Georgina. She hesitated
over making such an offer, because there were so few books in the house.
Nothing but the almanac looked interesting. Aunt Elspeth assented, and
pointed out a worn little volume of devotions on top of the bureau,
saying:
"That's what Dan'l reads me on Sundays."
Georgina opened it. Evidently it had been compiled for the use of
sea-faring people, for it was full of the promises that sailor-folk best
understand; none of the shepherd psalms or talk of green pastures and
help-giving hills. It was all about mighty waters and paths through the
deep. She settled herself comfortably in the low rocking-chair beside
the bed, tossed back her curls and was about to begin, when one of the
rainbow lights from the prism danced across the page. She waited,
smiling, until it glimmered away. Then she read the verses on which it
had shone.
"_All thy waves and thy billows are gone over me, yet the Lord will
command His loving kindness in the daytime, and in the night His song
shall be with me._"
The sweet little voice soothed the troubled spirit that listened like
music.
"_When thou passeth through the waters I will be with thee, and through
the rivers: they shall not overflow thee.... Thus saith the Lord which
maketh a way in the sea, and a path in the mighty waters._"
Aunt Elspeth reached out a groping hand for Georgina's and took the soft
little fingers in hers. Georgina didn't want to have her hand held,
especially in such a stiff, bony clasp. It made her uncomfortable to sit
with her arm stretched up in such a position, but she was too polite to
withdraw it, so she read on for several pages.
"_He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. So He
bringeth them into their desired haven._"
Attracted by the sound of heavy breathing, she looked up. Aunt Elspeth
was asleep. Georgina laid the book on the table, and slowly, very slowly
began to raise herself out of the chair, afraid of arousing the sleeper
who still held her hand. As she stood up, the board in the floor under
her squeaked. She was afraid to take another step or to try to pull her
hand away. She had come to the end of her resources for entertainment,
and she was afraid Aunt Elspeth's next awakening might be to a crying,
restless mood which she could not control. So she sat down again.
It was very still in the bedroom. A fly buzzed on the outside of the
window screen, and away off on another street the "accommodation" was
going by. She could hear the bells jingling on the horses. As she sat
thus, not even rocking, but just jiggling the chair a trifle, the words
she had read began to come back to her after a while like a refrain:
"So He bringeth them into their desired haven. So He bringeth them into
their desired haven." She whispered them over and over as she often
whispered songs, hearing the music which had no tone except in her
thought.
And presently, as the whispered song repeated itself, the words began to
bring a wonderful sense of peace and security. She did not realize what
it was that was speaking to her through them. It was the faith which had
lived so long in these lowly little rooms. It was the faith which had
upborne Uncle Darcy year after year, helping him to steer onward in the
confidence that the Hand he trusted would fulfil all its promises. She
felt the subtle influence that goes out from such lives, without knowing
what it was that touched her. She was conscious of it only as she was
conscious of the nearness of mignonette when its fragrance stole in from
the flower-bed under the window. They were both unseen but the
mignonette's fragrance was wonderfully sweet, and the feeling of
confidence, breathing through the words of the old psalm was wonderfully
strong. Some day she, too, would be brought, and Barby would be brought
into "their desired haven."
Georgina was tired. It had been a full day, beginning with that digging
in the dunes. Presently she began to nod. Then the rocking chair ceased
to sway. When the clock struck again she did not hear it. She was sound
asleep with her hand still clasped in Aunt Elspeth's.