BRACKEN IN AUGUST.
It was good to be home and how easily I slipped back into being a child
again! I could hardly believe I had been so grown-up for a month, going
to hops and having a proposal and what not. I spent a great deal of my
time driving around with Father, who was very pleased to have me.
Sometimes we squeezed Cousin Sue Lee into the narrow-seated buggy and
then we would have a jolly time. Cousin Sue seemed younger even than the
year before. It was incredible that she should be nearly fifty. It was
not that she looked so young, as her hair was turning quite gray, but
she was so young in her attitude towards life.
We had to have our annual confab on the subject of clothes, and a
catalogue from the mail order house was soon the chief in interest of
all our literature.
"I can't think what I would have done last year if you had not taken
hold for me, Cousin Sue. My clothes were so satisfactory."
I told her of poor Annie Pore and at her suggestion sent my little
English friend a catalogue with things marked that I was going to order.
My order was almost a duplicate of the year before except that I did not
need quite so many things, as I had a goodly number of middies left over
and some shirt waists.
Miss Pinky Davis, our country sempstress, was sent for, and again Cousin
Sue spent hours planning how best to cut up and trim the bolts of
nainsook she had ordered from Richmond. She laughed at my awkwardness
with a needle and declared I did regular "nigger sewing." I tried to
whip lace, but no matter how clean my hands were when I started, I ended
with a dirty knotted thread and the lace went on in little bunches with
plain, tightly drawn spaces intervening.
"I declare, child, I don't believe Jimmy Allison himself could have done
it any worse," she said, looking at my attempt to whip lace on a
petticoat. Cousin Sue always called Father, Jimmy. "How do you get it
so grubby?"
"It gets itself! I don't get it!" I exclaimed. "I washed my hands with
lye soap so as to be sure they were clean, but they just seem to ooze
dirt when I begin to sew."
"Well, in the first place you are sewing with a needle as big as a
tenpenny nail and who ever heard of whipping on lace with thirty-six
thread?" And my dear cousin patiently threaded me a finer needle with
the proper thread and started me again. "Go from left to right, honey,
you are not a Chinaman."
"No, you are a Zulu, my dear, and should go clothed as such," said
Father, coming in to view our operations. "I believe even you could
string beads for your summer costume and cut a hole in a blanket for
winter."
"Well, I do hate to sew so, no wonder I can't do it. I want the clothes
but I don't want them bad enough to make 'em myself."
"The time will come when you will like to sew," said Miss Pinky, her
mouth full of pins.
"That sounds terribly sad," laughed Father. "What is going to make her
like it, Miss Pinky?"
"Oh, the time will come when she will find it soothing to sew."
Miss Pinky snipped away with a great pair of sharp shears as
nonchalantly as though she were cutting newspapers instead of very sheer
organdy for another white dress that Cousin Sue had decided I must have.
I never could see how she could tell where the scissors were going to
cut next, they were so big and she was so little. Miss Pinky always
reminded me of a paper doll, somehow. She seemed to have no thickness at
all to her. Her profile was like a bas-relief and rather low relief at
that. I remember when I was quite a little girl I examined her dress
very carefully to see if it could be fastened on the shoulders in the
manner of my paper dolls, with little folded-over flaps.
"Maybe it will, but it is certainly not soothing now. It makes me want
to scream."
"Don't do it! Just put up that flimsy foolishness and come drive over to
Milton with me. I think I'll drop in on poor Sally Winn before supper
and maybe she will get through the night without me. We can call for
the mail, too, and beat R. F. D. to it."
The Rural Free Delivery is a great institution in the country where
persons cannot go for the mail, but sometimes it was a great irritation
to us. Our mail was taken from the Post Office very early in the morning
and did not reach us until quite late in the afternoon, the carrier
circling all around the county before he landed at our box. "Come on,
Sue, you can squeeze in and we can have a jolly drive."
We found Sally Winn up and very busy. As she had been snatched from a
yawning grave only two nights before, we were rather astonished.
"Comp'ny's coming and I had to get up and put things to rights. I've
stirred up a cake and set some Sally Lunn for supper, and while I was up
I thought I had better preserve those peaches on the tree by the dairy
before they got too ripe. They make the best tasting preserves of any
peaches I ever saw. I am certainly going to fix a jar for you, Doctor.
Don't let me forget it. I've got two of Aunt Keziah's children, she is
raising, here helping me, but they are not much good for anything but
just to run to the spring and wring the frying size chickens' necks." In
writing I am perforce compelled to use a few periods, but not so Sally.
She poured forth this flow of conversation with never a pause for breath
or reply.
"The company that's coming is Reginald Kent, son of my first cousin once
removed. He is a great hand at eating and made so much fuss over my
cooking that it seemed like an awful pity for me to lay up in bed when
he was here, although it may be the death of me to be up and doing and
no doubt will bring on one of my spells."
"If it does," broke in my wily parent, "take a teaspoonful of that pink
medicine out of the low flat bottle and repeat in half an hour. Be sure
you do not take more than a teaspoonful and be very careful to have half
an hour between doses."
Father told us afterwards that there was nothing in the pink medicine in
the flat bottle but a most harmless and attenuated mixture of bromide,
but he warned her to take the exact dose and wait the full half hour to
make her feel it was a potent medicine that she must handle with great
care so she would think it would make her well. There was nothing much
the matter with Sally Winn but imagination; but imagination is sometimes
more powerful than the most potent drugs, and Sally was just as sick as
she thought she was, so Father said. He was wonderfully patient with her
and treated her ailments as seriously as though they really existed. She
had a leaky heart but there was a chance of her outliving her whole
generation. Of course there was also a chance of her being taken away at
any time, but Father considered the chance quite small as she seemed to
be growing better as time went on instead of worse.
"Reginald Kent is hoping that those Tuckers will be back here when he
comes on this visit, though he doesn't exactly say so. He just intimates
it by asking if the Allisons have any visitors. He is a mighty likely
young fellow and is getting on fine with his work. He really is coming
down here on business in a way. He wants to get some illustrations of
some of these views around here. He says he wants Aunt Keziah's cabin
and some of the little darkeys, and he wants an inside view of old Aunt
Rosana's and Uncle Peter's house."
Here Father stopped her long enough to say that he would go over to
Milton for the mail and come back for Cousin Sue and me. We had not got
in a word edgewise, but I never tried to when Sally once started. I
should think that anyone who saw as few persons as she did would want to
listen and find out things instead of imparting knowledge, but Sally
just seemed to be full to overflowing and she simply had to let off
steam before she could take on anything more. She wanted to know but she
wanted more to let you know.
She told us all she could about Reginald Kent, which was on the whole
rather interesting. Then she began on her turkeys and chickens and
enlarged somewhat on the subject of Jo and his irritating way of keeping
news to himself, and then with a bound she leapt upon her symptoms. I
knew it was coming and bowed my head in resignation.
"It looks like if I get to studying about things that one of my spells
is sure to follow. Now I have been thinking a lot lately about Reginald
Kent's mother, my first cousin once removed, and the more I think of her
the more I get to brooding. If you would believe me, in the night I got
to trembling so that I could have sworn there was an earthquake going
through the county. My bed fairly rocked. I had to call Jo. He gave me a
dose of my pink medicine and it ca'med me some. Each time I get one of
those attacks I hope it means the end, but somehow I always come back."
"But, Sally, why do you hope it is the end?" I asked. "I don't see why
you want to die. It would be very hard on Jo if you should leave him."
"Why, child, dying is one of the things I have always wanted to do. I
somehow feel that in the other life I'm going to be so happy. I dream I
am dead sometimes and, do you know, I am always real pretty and have
curly hair in that dream and lots of young folks around me who seem
somehow to belong to me."
Poor Sally! I felt very sorry for her and so did Cousin Sue, whom I saw
wiping a furtive tear away. I fancy Sally's life had been a very stale,
flat and unprofitable one and she had formed the habit of looking upon
death as at least a change, an adventure where she would be the heroine
for once. I determined to come to see her oftener and try to bring some
young life into her middle-aged existence.
Father brought us quite a bunch of mail. In it was a letter from Dee
telling the good news that they were going to motor down to Bracken on
Friday, the very next day, and stay over Sunday with us.
"Now you will know them and they will know you," I exclaimed, hugging
Cousin Sue. "I am going to bring them over to see you, too," I promised
Sally, noting her wistful expression.
Silent Jo Winn, who had come back from the station with Father, grinned
with delight when he heard that the Tuckers were coming. I remembered on
our memorable deer hunt of the winter before how Dee had won his shy
heart and had actually made him talk just like other folks.
"I tell you what let's do," he ventured. "This young cousin of ours,
Reginald Kent, is to be here to-night and he has to go over to Uncle
Peter's cabin to take some pictures. What's the reason we couldn't all
go on a picnic? We might fish in the river near Uncle Peter's, where
Miss Dum Tucker shot her deer."
"Splendid!" from Cousin Sue and me. Cousin Sue was always in for a
picnic.
Sally Winn gasped and clutched her heart until I thought we'd have to
run for her pink medicine; but she pulled herself together. It was
nothing but astonishment at the long speech from Jo. Jo actually
stringing words together and getting up a picnic! It was too much for
Sally, but she rose to the occasion with plans for a big lunch.
"I've a ham all cooked--and some blue Dominicker chickens that have just
reached the frying size--I'll make some fried pies--and some light
rolls--some Columbus eggs would eat good--and my pear pickle can't be
beat, and a stem to every one so you can eat it without messing yourself
up----"
"I have some news that is not quite so entrancing as yours, my dear,"
said Father, interrupting Sally's flow of eatables as he read from a
fat, crested, vellum letter. "Cousin Park Garnett will be with us
to-morrow, also."
"But she said Monday next, in her last letter!"
"She has changed her mind. She arrives on the afternoon train and will
bring her pug with her."
"Pug!"
"Yes, it seems the pug is the reason for her coming sooner. The doctor
thinks he needs a change of air."
"Heavens! And Dee is bringing Brindle, too!"
"Well, they'll have to fight it out."
"But, Father," I wailed, "can we go on and have the picnic?"
"Yes, my dear," broke in Cousin Sue. "I'll stay with Cousin Park."
"Indeed you won't!" declared Father. "Cousin Park can be invited to go
to the picnic, which of course she will not do. She can just stay at
home with Mammy Susan to wait on her and Miss Pinky Davis to listen to
her, while the pug dog breathes in great chunks of change of air. I have
some business to attend to over in the neck of the woods near Uncle
Peter's, so I can land at the ford for dinner with you."
Father was a great comfort to me. He always took such a sane view of
subjects. I was very uneasy for fear he might think we would have to
stay at home because of Cousin Park, as he was very strict with himself
and me, too, where hospitality to disagreeable relatives was concerned.
Cousin Park, however, could be perfectly well taken care of at Bracken
without us and there was no reason why we could not go on with our
plans; certainly no reason why dear little Cousin Sue should have to
forego the pleasure of the picnic to stay with a person who never lost
an occasion to mention her Lee nose and her spinsterhood.