NUMBER NINE.
LATE in April, Letty was married. Her house was all in order
beforehand: so that, as she said, she had nothing to do but to begin
living directly. John had bought good and substantial furniture for
kitchen and bedrooms. Mr. Trescott gave Letty, for her parlour, a
carpet, some cane chairs, a chintz-covered sofa or couch, and—better
than all—a neat little book-case, half filled with books, all of a kind
to bear reading once and again.
Mrs. Trescott and Catherine went over, the evening before the wedding,
to see that every thing was in order, and to make some little additions
of sweetmeats and other good things to Letty's larder; while Catherine
deposited in the little private drawer which John had contrived in the
pantry, half a dozen silver teaspoons. There was no risk in leaving
them there; for John was to sleep in the house, and Agnes promised to
have an eye to it next day. Agnes had been housekeeping in Number Ten
since the middle of March, and already considered herself a person of
experience.
Letty had all along intended to go to church and be married, and from
the church straight to her own home; but there had been a little change
in the programme. Aunt Eunice, who lived on a farm in the country,
sent Letty word that she expected her to come out and spend the day
with her. She had always been kind to Letty; and, now that she was
left alone in old age and infirmity, both Letty and John felt disposed
to afford her every satisfaction in their power. She promised to send
in for them, and bring them back at night. So it was settled that
they should be married at nine in the morning, and set out from the
church-door.
Letty had no bridesmaid but little Alice Trescott,—a pretty child seven
years old,—who was delighted with the honour, and went through her
duties with a dignity and gravity truly edifying.
Letty's dress was a brown checked India silk, with a bonnet and mantle
of the same. Agnes laughed when she heard of it; and Mrs. Train said
she really thought Mrs. Trescott might have done more than that,
considering how rich she was. But they were obliged to admit that Letty
looked perfectly like a lady, in her simple attire; and Agnes thought
with something like disgust of her light blue silk dress, which was
already too stained and shabby for evening, while it was not fit for
any thing else.
Letty was pale and somewhat agitated, and John made two or three little
mistakes; but, on the whole, the ceremony went off very nicely.
Mrs. Train lingered at the church-door, to speak to Mr. and Mrs.
Trescott.
"I feel as though I wanted to thank you for all your kindness to
Letty," she said. "You have, as she says, done every thing for her."
"I assure you, Mrs. Train, the obligation has been mutual," said
Mrs. Trescott, kindly. "Letty has been my faithful friend for eight
years. She has made my interest her own, and my sorrows as well." Mrs.
Trescott's voice faltered, and she paused a little. "I feel as though I
could easily be very selfish, when I think of losing her; but I am sure
she is going to do well. Mr. Trescott has kept his eye on John Caswell
ever since we first began to suspect how matters were going; and he is
quite sure that there is not a better young man in town."
"His principles are excellent, and his practice is equally so," added
Mr. Trescott. "He has been a member of our church for four years; and
one more useful or more consistent it would be hard to find. He has
been very economical, too: so that they have a nice little sum on
hand with which to begin housekeeping. I assure you, Mrs. Train, that
Letty's best friends could wish her no brighter prospects than she has
before her. Of course, we do not know what calamities Heaven may see
fit to send; but, after all, there is every thing in beginning well."
Mrs. Train sighed as she turned away. She began to fear that her own
daughter had not begun in the best way. Agnes had expensive notions;
so had Joseph; and she believed they had spent more than they could
afford, all the time they were boarding. How would it be now that they
were keeping house?
Agnes really knew very little about housekeeping. She had been kept
in school till she was sixteen, and she had worked in the shop ever
since. Mrs. Train herself had done every thing about the house, from
cooking and marketing to sweeping and dusting, because, she said, Agnes
must keep her hands nice for her work,—but really because it was less
trouble to do things herself than to teach her daughter. She was afraid
they would not be able to save much, if indeed they could avoid running
into debt; and she did not see how she could help them, either. Her own
income was very small, and barely sufficed for her daily wants, even
when eked out by the profits of her sewing; and she had anticipated it
for the expenses of Agnes's wedding outfit and party: so that, save as
she would, she must be behind-hand for at least a year.
Mrs. Train sighed again, and passed the butcher's without going in,
as she had intended, to buy a beefsteak,—but went home and made her
solitary dinner on potatoes and a bit of cold pork, with a cup of tea
without milk by way of dessert.
When our young friends arrived at the farm, they found Aunt Eunice
standing at the door to receive them, dressed in her very best brown
India satin, her crape kerchief and cap, and clear muslin apron. Aunt
Eunice had been brought up among Friends, and, though she had married
"out of meeting," she still adhered to her plain dress and habit of
speech. She welcomed her guests with affectionate warmth.
"I hesitated," she said, "about asking thee to spend thy wedding-day
with me; but, after all, I am growing an old woman. I have passed my
fourscore years, and am living as it were upon borrowed time, which may
be recalled at any hour. So I thought I would use the day while it was
my own."
"I think you are looking very well, Aunt Eunice," said Letty. "Don't
you feel as strong as usual?"
"Yes, my dear; I am very well for fourscore and two. Nevertheless, in
the course of nature, I cannot continue much longer; and it is borne
in upon my mind that my death may be sudden. But we won't talk of that
now. Come into my room and take off thy bonnet. How nicely thou art
dressed, my child!" she continued, when they were alone together. "So
exactly in thy dear mother's taste. I could almost wish she were here
to see thee."
"I have felt all day as though she did see me, Aunt Eunice," said
Letty, in a low tone.
"It may be so, my dear, for all we know. I suppose thou dost not
remember her?"
"Sometimes I think I do," said Letty; "but it may be only because
mother Esther used to tell me so much about her. Am I like her?"
"Very much," replied Aunt Eunice. "Thou hast just her complexion and
eyes,—though thy hair is not so dark,—and very much her expression. I
hope thou mayest be like her in other things. She possessed, in greater
perfection than any one I ever saw, the 'ornament of a meek and quiet
spirit.' From the time that she was ten years old, I hardly ever heard
an impatient word pass her lips; and, though she had many things to try
her at home, nothing ever seemed to ruffle the sweet inward peace of
her spirit. She appeared as one who walked, like Enoch, with God. She
was always ready to promote and sympathize with the innocent merriment
of others; but it was in the presence of sickness and sorrow that she
shone pre-eminent. I used to think she was well called 'Comfort.'"
"I am afraid I am not much like her in meekness," said Letty. "Mother
Esther used to call me a little tinder-box, sometimes."
"That comes from thy father," said Aunt Eunice, "and may perhaps be
accounted for in other ways. Esther, though I verily believe meaning to
be a true Christian, was something of a tinder-box herself. She had not
the knack of going smoothly through the world. She was like an unshorn
sheep in a brier-patch: every thorn gave her a pull. But she was always
kind to thee, in her way; and I am glad thou hast been able to return
her kindness, in some measure, by thy care of her orphan child. It must
be pleasant for thee to think on, now that thou art setting up in life
for thyself."
"Yes, indeed!" said Letty, warmly. "Aunt Train used sometimes to scold
about my keeping myself so poor for Sally's sake; but I always told her
I should never miss it."
"If I had been situated then as I am now, I should have offered to take
the care of her off thy hands, at least so far as to give her a home.
But thou knowest I have had my hands more than full till very lately. I
must not keep thee here any longer, however, or John will be jealous.
Let us go and see what he is about."
The day passed off very pleasantly. Aunt Eunice was a woman of a good
deal of reading and experience, and her conversation was as agreeable
and lively as it was instructive. She entertained the young people
greatly by giving them an account of the way in which weddings were
managed down on the Hudson among the Dutch colonists, where she had
passed the first years of her married life.
Then John and Letty rambled all over the farm, looked at the cows and
sheep, admired the early chickens and ducks (for which Aunt Eunice was
quite famous), petted the new kittens, and searched the grove for early
hepaticas.
Just before it was time to go home, Aunt Eunice called Letty into her
bedroom.
"I have laid by a few things for thee, such as I think thou wilt
prize," said she. "Thy grandmother and I had each a large stock of
home-spun linen to begin housekeeping with. Thy grandmother's was
mostly worn out and scattered in the second marriage; but I have always
been careful of mine, and I have the best of it now, besides my own
spinning. I have laid out for thee three pairs of my linen sheets, and
the same of pillow-cases, and half a dozen napkins, all spun by my own
hands,—and—now, thou needn't laugh—a bundle of old linen, both coarse
and fine."
"Indeed, I don't laugh, Aunt Eunice. I know how useful old linen is,
and how hard is to get it, too; for almost every one cotton now-a-days.
But I am afraid you will rob yourself, Aunt Eunice."
"I have plenty more," said Aunt Eunice smiling. "I fell heir to all my
husband's mother's spinning; but I thought thou wouldst prefer the work
of my own hands."
"Yes, indeed," said Letty. "I never aspired to have linen
sheets,—though I have plenty of cotton ones, which I bought myself. I
shall keep these for grand occasions, I assure you."
"That is what I would advise. It is always a good plan to have a
reserve put away to fall back upon in case of emergency. Linen sheets
are much more grateful than cotton to a sick person in a fever. Indeed,
I have never brought myself to using any other though I know cotton is
considered wholesome. Well, to go back to thy bundle. Here are a couple
of table-cloths which thy great-grandmother spun. Thou must take great
care of them, and leave them to thy eldest daughter. Here is something
else,—a bag of holders for thee. I dare say thou hast never thought of
providing that."
"Indeed I have not," said Letty. "I wonder at it, too; for I always use
them at home,—I mean at Mrs. Trescott's."
"Then it is well I thought of them. Now thou wilt not burn thy hands
with thy new teakettle. Finally, I have knitted thee three or four
dish-cloths of linen twine which thou wilt find far superior to the
common sort. I want to trouble thee with a little bundle for Agnes.
I have put up for her the same number of sheets and pillow-cases as
for thee. I thought at first I would not give them to her unless she
came for them; but, after all, she is my sister's grandchild; and,
though she is rather giddy at present, I hope she will mend. And now,
children, I must bid you farewell. I have not troubled you with much
advice. I have never found it do so very much good. People must mostly
find out for themselves as they go along. I hope, John, that thou
intendest to set up thy household in the fear of God?"
"I mean to do so, Aunt Eunice. It is the way in which I was brought up
myself; and I hope to train up my children, if God them to me, in the
same course."
"That is right. I have lived a longer life than is allotted to most
people, and, though I do not mean to complain, I have had my share of
this world's sorrows and troubles; but, now that I look back, as it
were, from the opening of another world on the road I have been over,
I can see much more sunshine than shadow upon it. Try, children, to
live close to God, and he will be close to you. You must expect now and
then to find some roots of bitterness springing up to trouble you, even
between yourselves; though I dare say you think that is impossible.
Keep it to yourselves, and it will die the quicker.
"Never allow yourselves to talk of each other's faults to any one else.
Letty, thou lookest indignant at the very idea; but I can tell thee,
my child, that it is the rock on which many married woman wrecks her
happiness. Whatever troubles thee, be the same great or small, take it
at once to God. Don't fall into the mistake of thinking that any grief
is too small for prayer, or any pleasure too little for thankfulness.
Never run into debt. If you have not the money to pay for what you
want, do without till you get the money. A debt is an ever-increasing
leak. Is thy house paid for, John?"
"Not entirely," replied John. "About a third of the purchase-money
remains as mortgage."
"Then thou wilt have an object in saving. Let that be thy first worldly
care, so that, whatever happens to thee, thy wife will have a home.
Don't, however, be so set upon saving as to go without the reasonable
comforts of life or the pleasure of assisting others poorer than thou
art. That is bad economy. Finally, if trouble comes, meet it with
courage, and trust in God. I am glad to have had thy company for this
day; and I hope it may be a pleasant remembrance to thyself as long as
thou livest. Now, once more, farewell, and God bless you!"
"Won't you come and see us, some time, Aunt Eunice?" said Letty.
"Why, I am growing rather old to travel, dear; but perhaps I may some
day look in upon thee, if I am spared till warm weather comes. Give my
love to Agnes and Joseph, and tell them I shall be glad to see them
whenever they can make it convenient to come."
"How good and kind she is!" said Letty, as they drove away. "I should
love to be just like her when I am as old."
It was nearly dark when they reached Number Nine. Agnes had promised
to have a fire for them; but there were no signs of any such thing,
and the door was fastened. Fortunately, however, John had the key of
the side door in his pocket. A light was soon obtained, and he set
about making a fire, Letty changed her dress and prepared to get their
supper. Presently Letty came out of the pantry.
"Where have you put the flour or the bread, John? I cannot find any."
John laid down the coal-shovel and looked aghast. "I declare, Letty, I
forgot all about it! I meant to order some yesterday; but, somehow, it
went out of my head. How stupid! What shall we do?"
"I can step over to Agnes's and borrow some bread," said Letty, smiling
at John's expression of consternation. "She will have a fine laugh at
us."
"I would rather go up street and buy some bread," said John. "There is
a bakery not far off."
"I think that will be the best way,—unless you mean to make your supper
on cake alone. There is some one coming in. Who is it?"
There was a gentle knock at the door as she spoke. John opened it, and
saw a small, middle-aged woman, plain, and plainly dressed, but with
an expression of kindness and gentleness which made Letty like her at
once. In one hand she held a bouquet of early flowers, and in the other
a large plate full of something neatly folded in a white napkin.
"Good-evening, Mrs. Caswell,—I suppose it is Mrs. Caswell?" said the
stranger. "My name is De Witt, and I live next door. I hope you will
excuse my taking such a liberty, but I thought may-be you hadn't made
any calculations for supper: so I just baked some short-cakes and
brought them over. I hope you won't be offended, now."
"No, indeed," said Letty, cordially. "I am very much obliged to you. I
was just wondering what we should do; for we forgot to order any flour."
"There! That's just what I thought," said Mrs. De Witt, setting down
the plate. "I says to Mr. De Witt, says I,—
"'Mr. De Witt, I don't believe them young things have thought to get
any flour;'—for, you see, I sit right by the front window with my work,
and I hadn't seen no flour-wagon come here.
"And Mr. De Witt, he says, 'Oh, Ruth, you are always so observing.'
"'I don't care,' says I. 'I'm going to bake 'em some biscuits; and if
they don't like 'em they needn't eat 'em,' says I—"
Mrs. De Witt stopped for want of breath.
"You were right," said John. "I did forget the flour at last,—though
I thought of it time enough beforehand. It was very kind in you to
remember us."
"Well, I think it is best to do kind things when one has a chance,"
replied Mrs. De Witt. "Not that a plate of biscuits is any thing. I've
brought a bunch of flowers, too. Flowers make a room look kind of
cheerful: don't you think so? Though I'm sure you look cheerful enough
already. I noticed your things when they was coming in. I do like to
see furniture neat and substantial to begin with. A great many young
folks begin very grand, and then kind of taper off, you know. I don't
believe you will do that way. Well, I must go. Now, if there's any
thing I can do for you, you must just let me know: won't you?"
Letty promised she would; and Mrs. De Witt departed, putting her head
in at the door, a moment afterwards, to ask if they had milk for their
tea. Agnes had thought of that; and Mrs. De Witt bade them goodnight.
"What a nice woman!" said Letty.
"She lives next door, where I told you they had so many flowers,"
replied John. "I cannot help being amused at her finding out that we
had no flour, when I did not think of it myself. She must have observed
our affairs pretty carefully."
"After all, it is natural enough to speculate on one's new neighbours,
especially when they are just married," remarked Letty. "She knows how
to make biscuits; that is plain to be seen," she continued, lifting the
napkin and disclosing the delicate little flaky tea-cakes. "See here
what a treat! Now I am going to give you another treat, in the shape of
some of Miss Catherine's plum-cake; but you must not expect that every
day. I mean to keep it, like Aunt Eunice's linen, for grand occasions."
They sat down to tea, and, with a thankful heart, almost too full for
utterance, John said grace at his own table.
Before the tea was poured out, the front door was unlocked, and Agnes
appeared, out of breath, and considerably fluttered.
"Dear me!" she began. "What a start you gave me! When I saw a light in
the window, I thought the house must be on fire. So you had to make
your own fire on after all! I fully intended to have the kettle boiling
and the table all set for you; but I ran into a neighbour's for a
minute, and the time get away so, it was seven o'clock before I dreamed
of such a thing. How nice and home-like you look! Why, dear me, Letty!
You have not baked biscuit already?"
"No: these came from next door," replied Letty. "It occurred to Mrs.
De Witt that we were new beginners at housekeeping; and so, out of the
kindness of her heart, she baked a plate of biscuits and brought them
over by way of introduction."
"How very unceremonious!" said Agnes. "Carrying biscuits to a perfect
stranger!"
"Doing an act of kindness is a good way of getting acquainted," said
John. "Won't you sit down and have some tea with us, Agnes? The
biscuits are very good, notwithstanding they came without ceremony."
"Oh, no, thank you. I must hurry home and get tea for Joe. If he comes
before it is ready, there will be such a fuss! How did you find Aunt
Eunice?"
"As well as one could expect at her age," replied Letty. "She sent you
her love, and something else. That smallest bundle belongs to you."
"Of course the smallest bundle belongs to me. That is always the way,"
said Agnes. "However, I don't blame Aunt Eunice for being offended.
I want to go out and see her; but I cannot get Joe started. Well,
goodnight. I expect to get my head taken off when I get home."
While Letty washed up her few tea-dishes, John went up street to order
his flour and meal to be sent the first thing in the morning.
"What a busy day this has been!" said he, as he hung up his hat and
coat. "Let us remember what Aunt Eunice said about beginning in the
right way, and have prayers, Letty."