XVII
GRAY DAYS AND GOLD
When Rebecca looked back upon the year or two that followed theSimpsons' Thanksgiving party, she could see only certain milestonesrising in the quiet pathway of the months.
The first milestone was Christmas Day. It was a fresh, crystal morning,with icicles hanging like dazzling pendants from the trees and a glazeof pale blue on the surface of the snow. The Simpsons' red barn stoodout, a glowing mass of color in the white landscape. Rebecca had beenbusy for weeks before, trying to make a present for each of the sevenpersons at Sunnybrook Farm, a somewhat difficult proceeding on anexpenditure of fifty cents, hoarded by incredible exertion. Success hadbeen achieved, however, and the precious packet had been sent by posttwo days previous. Miss Sawyer had bought her niece a nice graysquirrel muff and tippet, which was even more unbecoming if possible,than Rebecca's other articles of wearing apparel; but aunt Jane hadmade her the loveliest dress of green cashmere, a soft, soft green likethat of a young leaf. It was very simply made, but the color delightedthe eye. Then there was a beautiful "tatting" collar from her mother,some scarlet mittens from Mrs. Cobb, and a handkerchief from Emma Jane.
Rebecca herself had fashioned an elaborate tea-cosy with a letter "M"in outline stitch, and a pretty frilled pincushion marked with a "J,"for her two aunts, so that taken all together the day would have beenan unequivocal success had nothing else happened; but something elsedid.
There was a knock at the door at breakfast time, and Rebecca, answeringit, was asked by a boy if Miss Rebecca Randall lived there. On beingtold that she did, he handed her a parcel bearing her name, a parcelwhich she took like one in a dream and bore into the dining-room.
"It's a present; it must be," she said, looking at it in a dazed sortof way; "but I can't think who it could be from."
"A good way to find out would be to open it," remarked Miss Miranda.
The parcel being untied proved to have two smaller packages within, andRebecca opened with trembling fingers the one addressed to her.Anybody's fingers would have trembled. There was a case which, when thecover was lifted, disclosed a long chain of delicate pink coralbeads,--a chain ending in a cross made of coral rosebuds. A card with"Merry Christmas from Mr. Aladdin" lay under the cross.
"Of all things!" exclaimed the two old ladies, rising in their seats."Who sent it?"
"Mr. Ladd," said Rebecca under her breath.
"Adam Ladd! Well I never! Don't you remember Ellen Burnham said he wasgoing to send Rebecca a Christmas present? But I never supposed he'dthink of it again," said Jane. "What's the other package?"
It proved to be a silver chain with a blue enamel locket on it, markedfor Emma Jane. That added the last touch--to have him remember themboth! There was a letter also, which ran:--
Dear Miss Rebecca Rowena,--My idea of a Christmas present is something entirely unnecessary and useless. I have always noticed when I give this sort of thing that people love it, so I hope I have not chosen wrong for you and your friend. You must wear your chain this afternoon, please, and let me see it on your neck, for I am coming over in my new sleigh to take you both to drive. My aunt is delighted with the soap.
Sincerely your friend,
Adam Ladd.
"Well, well!" cried Miss Jane, "isn't that kind of him? He's very fondof children, Lyddy Burnham says. Now eat your breakfast, Rebecca, andafter we've done the dishes you can run over to Emma's and give her herchain--What's the matter, child?"
Rebecca's emotions seemed always to be stored, as it were, in adjoiningcompartments, and to be continually getting mixed. At this moment,though her joy was too deep for words, her bread and butter almostchoked her, and at intervals a tear stole furtively down her cheek.
Mr. Ladd called as he promised, and made the acquaintance of the aunts,understanding them both in five minutes as well as if he had known themfor years. On a footstool near the open fire sat Rebecca, silent andshy, so conscious of her fine apparel and the presence of aunt Mirandathat she could not utter a word. It was one of her "beauty days."Happiness, excitement, the color of the green dress, and the touch oflovely pink in the coral necklace had transformed the little brown wrenfor the time into a bird of plumage, and Adam Ladd watched her withevident satisfaction. Then there was the sleigh ride, during which shefound her tongue and chattered like any magpie, and so ended thatglorious Christmas Day; and many and many a night thereafter didRebecca go to sleep with the precious coral chain under her pillow, onehand always upon it to be certain that it was safe.
Another milestone was the departure of the Simpsons from Riverboro, bagand baggage, the banquet lamp being their most conspicuous possession.It was delightful to be rid of Seesaw's hateful presence; but otherwisethe loss of several playmates at one fell swoop made rather a gap inRiverboro's "younger set," and Rebecca was obliged to make friends withthe Robinson baby, he being the only long-clothes child in the villagethat winter. The faithful Seesaw had called at the side door of thebrick house on the evening before his departure, and when Rebeccaanswered his knock, stammered solemnly, "Can I k-keep comp'ny with youwhen you g-g-row up?" "Certainly NOT," replied Rebecca, closing thedoor somewhat too speedily upon her precocious swain.
Mr. Simpson had come home in time to move his wife and children back tothe town that had given them birth, a town by no means waiting withopen arms to receive them. The Simpsons' moving was presided over bythe village authorities and somewhat anxiously watched by the entireneighborhood, but in spite of all precautions a pulpit chair, severalkerosene lamps, and a small stove disappeared from the church and weresuccessfully swapped in the course of Mr. Simpson's driving tour fromthe old home to the new. It gave Rebecca and Emma Jane some hours ofsorrow to learn that a certain village in the wake of Abner Simpson'sline of progress had acquired, through the medium of an ambitious youngminister, a magnificent lamp for its new church parlors. No moneychanged hands in the operation; for the minister succeeded in gettingthe lamp in return for an old bicycle. The only pleasant feature of thewhole affair was that Mr. Simpson, wholly unable to console hisoffspring for the loss of the beloved object, mounted the bicycle androde away on it, not to be seen or heard of again for many a long day.
The year was notable also as being the one in which Rebecca shot uplike a young tree. She had seemingly never grown an inch since she wasten years old, but once started she attended to growing precisely asshe did other things,--with such energy, that Miss Jane did nothing formonths but lengthen skirts, sleeves, and waists. In spite of all thearts known to a thrifty New England woman, the limit of letting downand piecing down was reached at last, and the dresses were sent toSunnybrook Farm to be made over for Jenny.
There was another milestone, a sad one, marking a little grave under awillow tree at Sunnybrook Farm. Mira, the baby of the Randall family,died, and Rebecca went home for a fortnight's visit. The sight of thesmall still shape that had been Mira, the baby who had been her specialcharge ever since her birth, woke into being a host of new thoughts andwonderments; for it is sometimes the mystery of death that brings oneto a consciousness of the still greater mystery of life.
It was a sorrowful home-coming for Rebecca. The death of Mira, theabsence of John, who had been her special comrade, the sadness of hermother, the isolation of the little house, and the pinching economiesthat went on within it, all conspired to depress a child who was sosensitive to beauty and harmony as Rebecca.
Hannah seemed to have grown into a woman during Rebecca's absence.There had always been a strange unchildlike air about Hannah, but incertain ways she now appeared older than aunt Jane--soberer, and moresettled. She was pretty, though in a colorless fashion; pretty andcapable.
Rebecca walked through all the old playgrounds and favorite haunts ofher early childhood; all her familiar, her secret places; some of themknown to John, some to herself alone. There was the spot where theIndian pipes grew; the particular bit of marshy ground where thefringed gentians used to be largest and bluest; the rock mapl
e whereshe found the oriole's nest; the hedge where the field mice lived; themoss-covered stump where the white toadstools were wont to spring up asif by magic; the hole at the root of the old pine where an ancient andhonorable toad made his home; these were the landmarks of herchildhood, and she looked at them as across an immeasurable distance.The dear little sunny brook, her chief companion after John, was sorrycompany at this season. There was no laughing water sparkling in thesunshine. In summer the merry stream had danced over white pebbles onits way to deep pools where it could be still and think. Now, likeMira, it was cold and quiet, wrapped in its shroud of snow; but Rebeccaknelt by the brink, and putting her ear to the glaze of ice, fancied,where it used to be deepest, she could hear a faint, tinkling sound. Itwas all right! Sunnybrook would sing again in the spring; perhaps Miratoo would have her singing time somewhere--she wondered where and how.In the course of these lonely rambles she was ever thinking, thinking,of one subject. Hannah had never had a chance; never been freed fromthe daily care and work of the farm. She, Rebecca, had enjoyed all theprivileges thus far. Life at the brick house had not been by any meansa path of roses, but there had been comfort and the companionship ofother children, as well as chances for study and reading. Riverboro hadnot been the world itself, but it had been a glimpse of it through atiny peephole that was infinitely better than nothing. Rebecca shedmore than one quiet tear before she could trust herself to offer up asa sacrifice that which she so much desired for herself. Then onemorning as her visit neared its end she plunged into the subject boldlyand said, "Hannah, after this term I'm going to stay at home and letyou go away. Aunt Miranda has always wanted you, and it's only fair youshould have your turn."
Hannah was darning stockings, and she threaded her needle and snippedoff the yarn before she answered, "No, thank you, Becky. Mothercouldn't do without me, and I hate going to school. I can read andwrite and cipher as well as anybody now, and that's enough for me. I'ddie rather than teach school for a living. The winter'll go fast, forWill Melville is going to lend me his mother's sewing machine, and I'mgoing to make white petticoats out of the piece of muslin aunt Janesent, and have 'em just solid with tucks. Then there's going to be asinging-school and a social circle in Temperance after New Year's, andI shall have a real good time now I'm grown up. I'm not one to belonesome, Becky," Hannah ended with a blush; "I love this place."
Rebecca saw that she was speaking the truth, but she did not understandthe blush till a year or two later.
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm Page 17
