PEAKSLOW'S HOUSE-RAISING.
"Mercy on me!" said Caroline, hearing an unusual noise in the front part
of the house; "now we are to have the racket of those Peakslow children!
What could you have been thinking of, Lavinia dear? I'm sure _I_ didn't
know what I was saying when I gave _my_ consent to their coming. The
idea of their turning our library into a kitchen! Not that I blame
_you_, Lavinia dear. _I_ ought to have considered."
"Surely you wouldn't have denied the houseless family a shelter?" Vinnie
replied. "That would have seemed too bad, with those great chambers
unoccupied. As for the _library_,"--Vinnie smiled, for the unfurnished
room called by that choice name had nothing in it but a fireplace,--"I
don't think any harm can happen to that."
Vinnie had a plan regarding the Peakslow children, which she laid before
Mrs. Peakslow as soon as the new inmates were fairly settled in the
house.
"Since my sister and the baby have been so much better, I have begun a
little school, with only two scholars,--Cecie and Lilian. Wouldn't your
children like to join it? I think it would be pleasant."
"Whuther they would or not, I'd like to have 'em," replied Mrs.
Peakslow, gratefully. "The chances for schoolin' is dreffle slim in this
country; we've no school-house within nigh two mile. But how shall I pay
ye?"
"You needn't mind about that."
"Yes, I shall mind too. We must do somethin' for you in return."
"Well, then," said Vinnie, "if you like, you may let one of the girls
help a little in my sister's kitchen, to make up for the time I spend
with them."
"I'll do it, sartin! You shall have Lyddy. She's a good smart hand at
housework, and you may git all out of her you can."
So it was arranged. The little school of two was increased to five; the
"parlor"--used only to store grain in hitherto--was turned into a
school-room; and Lyddy worked in Mrs. Betterson's kitchen.
"Lavinia dear, you _are_ an extraordinary girl!" said Caroline. "It
seems the greatest miracle of all to see one of the Peakslows washing
_our_ dishes!"
No one was better pleased with this arrangement than Jack, who could
never be reconciled to seeing Vinnie--with all her health and strength
and cheery spirits--doing the hardest of the housework.
Jack took early occasion, on visiting Long Woods, to go and see Mr.
Peakslow, and make him a frank apology for having once suspected Zeph of
taking his compass. But he got only an ugly scowl and surly grunt for
his pains.
For a while Peakslow did not go near his family, quartered in his
enemy's house; but slept in the haystack, with Dud and Zeph, and ate the
meals his wife cooked and sent to him three times a day.
But soon Dud went to sleep at the "castle," and found he had nothing
more formidable to meet than Vinnie's bright eyes,--for Dud had suddenly
developed into a bashful youth.
Zeph in a night or two followed his example, and Peakslow was left alone
in his haystack.
And the nights were growing chill; and the repair of the buildings went
on slowly, carpenters being scarce; and Peakslow, who had a heart for
domestic comforts, began to yearn for the presence of his family at
mealtime and bedtime.
At length he stole into the house after dark one evening, and stole out
again before light the next morning. That did not seem to hurt him; on
the contrary, it suited Peakslow; his neighbor's house was better than a
haystack. Then he came to supper and stayed to breakfast. Then there was
no good reason why he should not come to dinner; and he came
accordingly.
Then he stopped after dinner one day to see how Vinnie conducted her
little school, and went away looking wonderfully thoughtful. The boys
remembered that he did not scold them so sharply that afternoon as he
had been wont to do since the tornado disturbed his temper.
One morning, as he was going out, Peakslow saw Lord Betterson in the
yard, and advanced awkwardly toward him, holding his hat in one hand and
scratching his head with the other. There was, after all, a vein of
diffidence in the rough quartz of the man's character; and somehow, on
this occasion, he couldn't help showing his neighbor a good deal of
respect.
"I'm a-gun to have a bee this arternoon,--a raisin',--gun to try to git
the logs back on to the house, an' the ruf on to the shed,--everything
ready,--some o' the neighbors comin' to help,--and if you an' your boys
can lend a hand, I'll do as much for you some time."
"Surely; very glad to serve you, Neighbor Peakslow," Lord Betterson
replied, in his magnificently polite way, much as if he had been a
monarch dismissing a foreign ambassador.
Jack came over to Long Woods that afternoon, and, having rectified Mrs.
Wiggett's noon-mark, stopped at Peakslow's raising on his way back up
the valley.
He found a group of men and boys before the house, partaking of some
refreshments,--sweetened whiskey and water, passed round in a pail with
a tin dipper by Zeph, and "nut-cakes" and "turn-overs," served by Mrs.
Peakslow and 'Lecty Ann.
The sight of Snowfoot tied to his fence made Peakslow glare; nor was his
ruffled spirit smoothed when he saw Jack come forward with a cheery face
and a compass in his hand.
Jack greeted the Bettersons, Mr. Wiggett, and one or two others he
knew, and was talking pleasantly with them, when Peakslow pushed the
inverted cut-water of his curved beak through the crowd, and confronted
him.
"So that air's the compass, is it?"
"This is the compass, Mr. Peakslow."
"Keep it in yer hand, now'days, do ye? Don't trust it in the wagon? Good
idee! No danger of its bein' stole, an' your comin' agin to 'cuse my
boys of the theft!"
Peakslow's ancient wrath rekindled as he spoke; his voice trembled and
his eyes flamed.
Jack kept his temper admirably, and answered with a frank and honest
face,--
"I have made the best amends I could for that mistake, by apologizing to
you for it, Mr. Peakslow. I don't keep the compass in my hand because I
am afraid it may be stolen. I have called--as I promised Mrs. Peakslow
the other day that I would do--to give her a noon-mark on her kitchen
floor."
"How's this?--promised her?--I don't understand that!" growled Peakslow.
"Yes, pa!" said Mrs. Peakslow, with a frightened look. "I seen him to
Mis' Betterson's. He'd made a noon-mark for Mis' Wiggett, and Mis'
Betterson's sister asked me if I wouldn't like one, as he was comin' to
make them one some day."
Off went Peakslow's hat, and into his bushy hair went his fingers again,
while he stammered out,--
"But he can't make no noon-mark this arternoon,--we're all in a mess an'
litter, so!"
"Just as well now as any time," said Jack. "The doorway is clear. I
sha'n't interfere with anybody."
"What'll be to pay?" Peakslow asked.
"O, I don't charge anything for a little job like this,--to one of Mr.
Betterson's neighbors."
"That's jes' so; he didn't charge me nary red," said Mr. Wiggett. "An'
he's done the job for me now tew times,--fust time, the tornado come and
put the noon-mark out o' j'int, 'fore ever a noon come round."
Jack adjusted his compass, while the house-raisers looked on, to see how
the thing was done, Peakslow appearing as much interested as anybody.
Jack got Link to make the first marks for him on the floor, and laughed,
as he looked through the sights of the compass, to hear Mr. Wiggett
describe the finding of his section corner,--"runnin' a line plumb to
the old stake, out on the open perairie,"--and praise the boy-surveyor's
skill.
The mark was made with quickness and precision; friends and strangers
crowded around Jack with kind words and questions; and he was surprised
to find himself all at once a person of importance.
Peakslow puffed hard at his pipe. His face was troubled; and two or
three times he pulled the pipe out of his mouth, thrust his knuckles
under his hat, and took a step toward the young surveyor. He also
cleared his throat. He evidently had a word to say. But the word would
not come.
When at last he let Jack go off without offering him even a syllable of
thanks, the bystanders smiled, and somebody might have been heard to
mutter, "Peakslow all over! Just like his hoggishness!"
Jack smiled too as he went, for he had shrewdly observed his enemy, and
he knew it was not "hoggishness" which kept Peakslow's lips closed, but
a feeling which few suspected in that grasping, hard, and
violent-tempered man.
Peakslow was abashed!