MARION'S RIDE.
Marion had no other letter from her mother during the week, and she was
so busy the whole time with her studies, music, etc., that it was not
until Saturday afternoon that she started on her errand.
The weather had been unusually cold, and the previous night there had
been quite a heavy fall of snow, which, notwithstanding it was now only
the middle of November, still remained on the ground, and the thick,
gray sky gave promise that there was yet more to come; indeed before
Marion was fairly ready the flakes began to make their appearance, and
came lazily down, as if they did not all relish being called out so
early.
But Marion did not mind wind or weather, and with her water-proof over
her thick sack, the hood drawn up over her head, and her feet encased in
rubbers, she set out for her long walk in the most excellent spirits.
Florence went to the door with her and urged her to take an umbrella,
but Marion laughed at the idea, saying, "It was only a little flurry and
would be over in a minute;" but before she had reached Aunt Bettie's she
wished she had taken Florence's advice, for the snow came down thicker
and faster, beating against her face, and almost blinding her, so that
it was with great difficulty that she could see her way, and it was at
least an hour before she arrived at the farm-house.
She went round to the back of the house, and without knocking lifted the
latch of the door, and entered a sort of shed or unplastered room,
which in summer was used as a kitchen, but which now served as a
wood-shed.
"Aunt Bettie," cried Marion, "are you there?" and she stamped her feet,
and shook her clothes to get rid of the snow which covered her from head
to foot.
"For the goodness' sakes, who's that?" exclaimed Aunt Bettie as she
jumped up from her seat by the kitchen fire, where she had fallen asleep
over her knitting, and hurried into the outer room.
"Why, it's only me, auntie, to be sure," said Marion.
"Marion Berkley! well, did I ever! but massy me," as she took hold of
Marion's water-proof, "you're as wet as a drownded rat; I'd no idee it
snowed so hard!"
"Oh, it's only wet on the outside; _I'm_ not wet a bit;" and Marion took
off her water-proof and hung it over a chair to dry, pulling off her
rubbers and placing them on the floor beside it; "but why don't you ask
me what I came for, auntie?"
"Wall, child, to tell the truth, I was so s'prised to see yer that I
didn't think anything 'bout what yer come for, and I aint going to ask
nuther, 'till you jist seat yourself in front o' that fire and toast
them feet o' yourn. I never see sich a child! To think o' your startin'
out sich weather's this to come and see me!"
"It didn't snow much when I left school, and I hadn't the least idea it
would be such a storm; it's so early, you know. Florence wanted me to
bring an umbrella, but I wouldn't; I never will carry one if I can help
it."
"Wall, it is a reg'lar out-and-outer," exclaimed Aunt Bettie, as she
stood peering through the window at the storm; "winter's sot in airly
this time, an' no mistake. I tell you what," as she came back to the
fire and seated herself beside Marion, "if you've come for anything
pertickler, I guess you better tell it right away, fur it won't do fur
you to stop long, it gathers so."
"Well, I did come for something particular, auntie, but you must not
expect too much;" and Marion, who saw that Aunt Bettie was unusually
excited, notwithstanding she tried to appear composed, laid her hand on
her arm in a soothing, caressing way. "It is only a little bit of
comfort for you, not any real hope, except that you will perhaps feel
encouraged to know that you have friends in the city looking for your
daughter, and although I do not know anything certain about her, I think
mamma has got hold of some clue. But I'll read you what she says; you
know I promised to write her, and I did, and this is her answer."
Aunt Bettie signed for Marion to go on; she was too much moved to speak,
although her emotion was caused quite as much by gratitude as anxiety,
for she had waited so long, and up to this time in such perfect silence,
that hope had almost died out within her, and she really did not expect
any joyful tidings.
At the conclusion of the letter Marion looked up, almost dreading to
meet Aunt Bettie's glance, feeling sure that it must be one of
disappointment; but, contrary to her expectations, the good woman's face
was positively beaming through her tears, as she exclaimed in an almost
joyful tone:--
"The Lord bless you, Miss Marion, and your mother too, for you're a pair
of Christians if there ever was one! I'm jist sure that that Arabella
Dobbs is my Jemimy; an' I'll tell yer why I think so. Yer see the gal
that set my darter up to goin' to Boston used to visit some o' her
kinfolk down in the village, an' that's how she and Jemimy got
acquainted; she put it into my gal's head that _Jemimy_ was an awful
country kind of a name,--her own was Belindy,--and she always called
her Arabella, an' jist as like as not Jemimy was fool enough to go an'
give _that_ as her name. I declare she orter been ashamed of herself!"
and Mrs. Dobbs' indignation so far got the better of her grief, that if
Miss Jemimy had been there in the flesh it is quite probable she would
have received at least a good scolding.
"Why, auntie, if that is so," replied Marion, "I've no doubt it's the
same girl; but how do you suppose she happened to go to East Boston
instead of Boston?"
"Oh, like's not that Belindy Beers lived in East Boston, and jist said
Boston 'cause she thought 'twas smarter. I never could bear that gal
anyhow, an' if it hadn't been for her my darter'd been here now."
"Well, you know I haven't really found her yet," said Marion, who was
afraid that Aunt Bettie's ire had caused her to lose sight of that fact;
"we only have some _probability_ of finding out where she is."
"I know, dear, I know all that, but I do feel better; it does seem as if
there couldn't be two sich good creeturs as you an' your mother doin'
your best to help me, and no good to come of it. 'T any rate I aint
goin' to despond any more; it's like flyin' in the face o' Providence,
and until I hear wus news I shall jist hope for the best."
"Aunt Bettie, I'm glad enough to hear you say so; I _can't_ help feeling
very hopeful myself, and I'm glad you can feel the same."
"Well, child, I think it's the right way arter all; 'taint my nater
usually to be very despondent, but somehow I got entirely discouraged;
but _I should_ be an ungrateful woman enough if I didn't thank you over
and over again. I can't speak it all, but I feel it jist the same."
"Indeed, auntie, it is not me, but mamma, that you must thank. I have
done nothing but write to her, and she has done all the work."
"Yes, and how would she have known it, if it hadn't been for you? I
thank her, the Lord knows I do, from the bottom of my heart, but it's
all owin' to you, child, nevertheless. If you hadn't had quick eyes to
see into my troubles, and a warm heart to put you up to helpin' me, what
would she a' known about it? No, no, dear, you're the fust one I owe my
thanks to, and whether I ever find Jemimy again or not, I shall always
love you, and bless you for what you've done for me so long's I live."
And Marion knew that Aunt Bettie meant every word she said, and she did
not again try to alter her opinion. It was pleasant indeed to know that
there was any one who could have such a high regard for her; and with a
warmth about her heart which it was pleasant to feel, and a light in her
eyes which it would certainly have done any one good to see, she sat
talking with Mrs. Dobbs, both of them oblivious to the fact that time
was fast slipping away, until, upon looking up, Marion was astonished to
see that it was long after four o'clock.
"Why, auntie!" she exclaimed, "see how dark it is growing; we've been
talking nearly an hour. I must hurry off this minute, or I shall be
frightened to death before I get home."
"Why, sure enough, it's most five o'clock! I'd no idee of it. But massy
sakes!" cried Aunt Bettie as she went to the window, "jest come here and
look out! Why, you can't walk home in this snow nohow; why, it's up to
your ankles! I never see snow gather so quick in my life."
Marion went to the window, and took a survey of the scene. It certainly
did not look very promising. The snow had gathered so rapidly that the
roads were covered several inches deep, and darkness appeared to be fast
approaching. Marion looked decidedly troubled; but there was no help for
it; go she must; for she knew that Miss Stiefbach would be very much
worried about her; so putting on as good a face as possible she said:--
"Well, auntie, I haven't a moment to spare; it is really quite dark, and
it will take me longer to go than it did to come;" and Marion was
hurrying out of the room to get her water-proof when Aunt Bettie caught
hold of her:--
"You jest set down in that cheer, and don't you stir out of it till I
tell yer you may! Do you s'pose I'm goin' to send you home afoot when
it's sich walkin's this? No; not if my name's Sarey Ann Dobbs. You jest
wait, and you shall have one sleigh-ride this year if you don't ever get
another."
"Aunt Bettie, what do you mean?" exclaimed Marion.
"You jest wait, and you'll see what I mean." Auntie went into the outer
room, and opening the door shouted at the very top of her lungs in a
shrill, high key: "Jabe! Jabe Dobbs, be you there?" but Jabe did not
respond to the maternal call. "Jabe! Ja-a-a-be!" Then in an undertone,
"Plague take that boy! he's the laziest creetur I ever did see!"
Presently there came a reply from one of the outside sheds in a slow,
drawling voice; very much as if the owner of it had heard the first
summons, but was not in a great hurry to heed it:--
"H-e-r-e!"
"Wall, come in this minit, and don't keep me standin' here holdin' this
door open any longer!"
In a few moments, but in what seemed to Marion almost an eternity, heavy
steps were heard on the flagstone, and directly after, a youth of about
sixteen made his appearance in the door-way, and slowly knocking the
snow off his boots, asked in the same drawling tone:--
"What do yer want?"
"You come inside, and I'll tell yer," replied his mother.
"Well, yer might o'--" but catching sight of Marion his head went down,
and Jabe stood sheepishly twirling his hat in his hands, shuffling from
one foot to the other, apparently too bashful for speech.
"Don't stan' there twirlin' yer hat, and lookin' like a great idiot, but
jest step round and be spry. Did you get down the big sleigh t'other day
when I told yer to?"
Jabe nodded assent.
"Well, it's a wonder! Now you go out and tackle up Shadrack as quick as
ever you can, and hev him round to the door, less'n no time; no
shillyshallyin!"
"What shall I put him into arter I get him tackled?" asked the hopeful
youth, with a momentary glance at Marion from under his shaggy eyebrows.
"Why, put him into the sleigh, to be sure; what'd you s'pose?"
"Well, you didn't tell me, an' I didn't know but p'r'aps she was goin'
to ride him," replied Jabe, with another glance at Marion, which almost
upset her gravity.
"You didn't think any such a thing, and you know you didn't! You're to
drive Miss Marion back to school, and you jest hurry out; and don't let
the grass grow under yer feet either!"
"Aint much danger," replied Jabe, as he shuffled off; "it's most through
sproutin' fur this year, and 'taint quite ready fur next."
"Now, Miss Marion, did you _ever_ see sech a boy as that?" exclaimed
Aunt Bettie in righteous indignation; "he worries my life out of me!"
"What is the matter with him?" asked Marion, who was intensely amused at
the ridiculous-looking object she had just seen, and his comical,
awkward ways; "there doesn't seem to be anything very bad about him."
"Bad! of course there isn't, but he _is_ so powerful slow! There's no
doin' nothin' with him; he's too lazy to work, and he's too lazy to
study. But there's one thing, he's honest as he ken be, and I rally do
think he does set consid'rable store by me; though he _does_ try my
patience awfully."
"Of course he thinks a great deal of you," replied Marion; "he's just at
a lazy age now. I dare say he'll get over it, and prove a great comfort
to you one of these days."
"Oh, he's a comfort now, in a sort of a way. He's stiddy enough; but
laws! he's too lazy to be anything else."
"He'll wake up yet, auntie, see if he doesn't. There's a twinkle in his
eyes that shows he's nobody's fool."
"Oh, I never supposed he was quite as bad's that; but he haint found his
niche yet; when he does I s'pose he'll fit into it as tight as a
pertater does its skin."
In much shorter time than Marion had expected, judging from what she had
seen of Jabe's activity, the jingle of bells was heard, and directly
after, the musical voice of Mrs. Dobbs' young hopeful called out:--
"I'm ready if you be!"
Aunt Bettie opened the door, her face positively radiant with smiles and
the pleasure she felt at being able to give Marion a ride.
As Marion's eyes beheld the equipage that stood ready for her use, it
must be confessed that her first sensation was anything but agreeable.
In common with most girls of her age, and I might say with girls
considerably older than herself, she had a great admiration for handsome
horses, elegant carriages, and a driver in keeping with the rest of the
establishment.
Certainly no one could say, however, that her driver was not perfectly
in keeping with the establishment of which he evidently felt extremely
proud; for he sat on the front seat, holding the reins in both hands, as
if poor Shadrack was a four-in-hand team, or at least a tandem with a
very refractory leader.
The sleigh itself was of such peculiar structure, that it would have
been almost impossible to have decided at what ancient period it must
have been made. In shape, it most resembled that elegant vehicle
commonly known as a "pung," excepting that it boasted of two seats, and
a back that nearly reached the top of Marion's head. Its color was a
beautiful pea-green, ornamented with various scrolls and devices in
bright yellow, which might have been a combination of the paternal and
maternal crests of Jabe's ancestors, but looked wonderfully like
squash-vines.
Around old Shadrack's neck was hung a string of iron bells about the
size of small cannon-balls, which jingled most melodiously every time he
moved. But Marion's good sense would not allow her to yield to any
feeling of mortification which she might feel at the idea of appearing
at school in such a turn-out. She only thought of Aunt Bettie's kindness
in ordering out her old horse on such an unprecedented occasion; and
thanking her warmly and sincerely for her thoughtfulness, she stepped
into the sleigh and was driven off by Jabe, who flourished the whip over
Shadrack's ears, quite regardless of his mother's warning, "not to let
the critter trot fast, 'cause 'twas heavy haulin'; the snow was so
soggy."
For some time they jogged along, the silence only broken by the
monotonous jingle of the bells. It had stopped snowing, and the sky was
quite bright in the west, making it much lighter than it was earlier in
the afternoon; touching up the trees with a rosy light, and casting a
soft glow on the fields, as they passed along.
Marion forgot everything else in the pleasure of watching the fading
light, and was quite oblivious to the existence of Jabe, until she was
roused from her silent observations by a mild "ger-lang!" which reminded
her that it certainly was her duty to make herself agreeable to her
escort.
She hardly knew what to say to him, but she ventured to remark "that the
horse did not look as if he was worked very hard."
"Worked hard!" exclaimed Jabe. "Lord, he don't know what work is! I just
wish I had as easy a time as Shadrack."
"What in the world did you name him Shadrack for?" exclaimed Marion.
"Me!" replied Jabe, turning round slowly and looking at Marion out of
the corner of his eye, "'twant none o' my doin's, 'twas father's; he
allus liked something different from anybody else, and that time I think
he hit it."
"Yes, I think he did," replied Marion, smiling in spite of herself; then
in a soberer tone she asked, "Do you remember your father, Jabe?"
"No, he died 'fore I was two years old."
"Don't you wish he could have lived?"
"Well now, that depends on circumstances," replied Jabe in a
deliberating tone; "if he was such a fellow for work as the marm, I
can't say as I _should_ be very particular 'bout havin' him round."
"Why, Jabe Dobbs!" exclaimed Marion, striving to conceal her laughter,
"aren't you ashamed of yourself? I dare say it would be better for you,
if your mother made you work a great deal harder than she does."
"O Lord! Miss Marion!" cried Jabe, in the most horrified tone, but with
a twinkle in his eyes which Marion fully appreciated; "if she did I
couldn't live nohow. You see, work and I don't hitch hosses; we weren't
meant to go 'longside the same pole; and if one of us has got to stan'
still, I think it might's well be me, and let _work_ go."
At this Marion laughed outright, but not a muscle of his face did Jabe
move, and if it had not been for that sly twinkle in his eye when he
lifted it to Marion's face one would have thought he was solving some
weighty problem.
He sat round sideways, one leg on the seat, and the reins now hanging
loosely in his hands, as Shadrack jogged lazily on, while he was
evidently highly pleased and flattered by Marion's attention.
"Well, Jabe," continued Marion, "perhaps, if you don't like to work, you
like to study. Do you ever go to school?"
"I went last winter by spells, an' I s'pose I shall go this winter too."
"Do you like it?" asked Marion; "what do you like best,--spelling?"
"Spelling," repeated Jabe, in a ruminating tone,--"spelling, no, I don't
like it much, that is, I don't like it the way they larn you down there.
I think p'r'aps if they'd let a feller follow his own fashion I might
like it; but they put in so many letters that there aint no kind o'
sense in havin', that it jest confuses me, an' so I ginerally spells
accordin' to fancy."
"O Jabe!" replied Marion, "that will never do in the world; but perhaps
you like arithmetic better."
"'Rithmetic!" and Jabe fairly dropped the reins and struck an emphatic
blow on his knee, as he exclaimed again: "'rithmetic! I tell you _there_
you got me. If there is anything I do hate on the face o' this airth,
it's 'rithmetic! Spellin's bad enough, but 'rithmetic's wus. When you
set me to doin' a sum it's jest like the feller that had to go through
the drill for the whole regiment; he got on fust-rate till they told him
to go form a holler-square; but he said _that_ 'wrenched him awfully.'"
"O Jabe! Jabe!" cried Marion, now fairly convulsed with laughter, "I am
afraid you will never make much of a scholar anyway. But, indeed, you
ought to try and do better; just think what a comfort you might be to
your mother, if you would only----But stop the horse, stop the horse a
minute; I've got an idea!"
Jabe drew up the reins with a sudden jerk, and looked at Marion as if
she had scattered every idea he ever possessed.
"You jump out!" she exclaimed; "no, you needn't do that; just help me
over on to the front seat, and then you climb on to the back. I'm going
to drive up to school in style."
Jabe dropped the reins, and did as he was told, with a very bewildered
expression on his great, round face, as he looked at Marion very much as
if he doubted her sanity; but she went on talking very fast as she
tucked in the almost worn-out robe, and took the reins in her hands.
"Don't you see, we're almost to the school, and everybody will be on the
lookout for me; so I want to dash up to the door in very stunning
fashion. Now sit up straight; fold your arms; hold your head
up;--so,--that's it; you're my tiger; that means the groom, boy, you
know, who sits behind when the gentleman drives. Now, when I stop the
horse, you jump out just as quick as ever you can and rush to his head,
as if you thought he wouldn't stand still long enough for me to get
out. Do you understand?"
"Yes," replied Jabe, who sat as straight as a ramrod, his eyes twinkling
under his bushy, fur cap, and his mouth stretched from ear to ear. If he
didn't love work, he certainly did a good joke, and he entered fully
into the spirit of the thing.
"Well, now, keep sober, and don't forget what I told you."
Marion braced her feet against the dasher; threw back her shoulders;
extended her arms at full length, and gave poor old Shadrack such a
tremendous "cut" with the whip that he sprang forward as if forty fiends
were after him; but Marion was used to driving, and only flourished the
old wooden-handled ox-whip, and urged him on the faster.
Everything happened precisely as Marion wished. Of course Miss Stiefbach
had become considerably alarmed at her long absence, and every one had
come into the front of the house, and all were looking out for her,
their faces pressed up against the window-panes as they crowded
together.
Just as Marion came in sight some one opened the front door; this was
what she wanted. Giving the whip an extra flourish, and saying in an
undertone to Jabe, "Be ready," she dashed up to the gate, and suddenly
drew the reins up short. Poor Shadrack, being thus brought to a very
unexpected stand-still, threw his head up in the air, and planted his
fore feet straight out in front of him, in a most warlike attitude.
Almost before they stopped Jabe sprang out and grasped the poor panting
beast by the head, as Marion threw the reins down, and stepping to the
ground exclaimed in a pompous tone, loud enough to be heard by those
standing in the door-way, "Rub him down well, Thomas, and give him an
extra measure of oats;" then, as she turned into the gate, "and Thomas,
have the tandem at the door in the cutter, to-morrow-morning at ten."
Jabe, not to be outdone, touched his hat, sprang on to the seat, and
whisked Shadrack round and up the road, at a pace that would have made
his mother hold up her hands in holy horror.
"Why, Marion Berkley, where _have_ you been?" exclaimed a chorus of
voices, Miss Stiefbach's actually among the number.
"I've been taking an airing on the Western Avenue. How do you like my
turn-out? Neat but not gaudy, isn't it?"
"Well, Marion, I don't know what you will do next," said Miss Christine;
"but where have you really been?"
"Marion, I must ask you to give a strict account of yourself," said Miss
Stiefbach, who, now that she had recovered from her unusual surprise and
alarm, was her own stately self again. Whereupon Marion gave a brief and
satisfactory history of her afternoon's expedition, embellishing it with
sundry remarks and expressions of her own, which rendered it highly
entertaining to her younger hearers; and I might say to all but Miss
Stiefbach, for Miss Christine joined heartily in the general laugh at
Marion's first sleigh-ride of the season.