CHAPTER I.
JOE'S GRAND DISCOVERY.
Hal sat trotting Dot on his knee,--poor little weazen-faced Dot, whowas just getting over the dregs of the measles, and cross accordingly.By way of accompaniment he sang all the Mother Goose melodies that hecould remember. At last he came to,--
"There was an old woman who lived in a shoe: She had so many children she didn't know what to do; To some she gave broth without any bread,"--
and Harry stopped to catch his breath, for the trotting was of thevigorous order.
"And a thrashing all round, and sent them to bed!"
finished Joe, thrusting his shaggy head in at the window after thefashion of a great Newfoundland dog.
Dot answered with a piteous cry,--a sort of prolonged wail,heart-rending indeed.
"Serve you right," said Joe, going through an imaginary performancewith remarkably forcible gestures.
"For shame, Joe! You were little once yourself, and I dare say criedwhen you were sick. I always thought it very cruel, that, after beingdeprived of their supper, they should be"--
"Thrashed! Give us good strong Saxon for once, Flossy!"
Flossy was of the ambitious, correct, and sentimental order. She hadlovely light curls, and soft white hands when she did not have to worktoo hard, which she never did of her own free will. She thought itdreadful to be so poor, and aspired to a rather aristocratic ladyhood.
"I am sorry you were not among them," she replied indignantly. "You'rea hard-hearted, cruel boy!"
"When the thrashings went round? You're a c-r-u-e-l girl!" with aprodigious length of accent. "Why, I get plenty of 'em at school."
"'Trot, trot, trot. There was an old woman'--what are you laughing at,Joe?" and Hal turned red in the face.
"I've just made a brilliant discovery. O my poor buttons! rememberFlossy's hard labor and many troubles, and do not _bust_! Why, we'rethe very children!"
At this, Joe gave a sudden lurch: you saw his head, and then you sawhis heels, and the patch on the knee of his trousers, ripped partly offby an unlucky nail, flapped in the breeze; and he was seated on thewindow-sill right side up with care, drumming both bare heels into thebroken wall. He gave a prolonged whistle of satisfaction, made big eyesat Dot, and then said again,--
"Yes, we are the _very_ children!"
"What children? Joe, you are the noisiest boy in Christendom!"
"Flossy, the old woman who lived in a shoe is Granny, and no mistake!I can prove it logically. Look at this old tumble-down rookery: it isjust the shape of a huge shoe, sloping gradually to the toe, which isthe shed-end here. It's brown and rusty and cracked and patched: itwants heeling and toeing, and to be half-soled, greased to keep thewater out, and blacked to make it shine. It was a famous seven-leaguerin its day; but, when it had lost its virtue, the giant who used towear it kicked it off by the roadside, little dreaming that it would betransformed into a cabin for the aforesaid old woman. And here we allare sure enough! Sometimes we get broth, and sometimes we don't."
Dot looked up in amazement at this harangue, and thrust her thumbsin her mouth. Hal laughed out-right,--a soft little sound like therippling of falling water.
"Yes, a grand discovery! Ladies and gentlemen of the nineteenthcentury, I rise to get up, to speak what I am about to say; and I hopeyou will treasure the words of priceless wisdom that fall from my lips.I'm not backward about coming forward"--
Joe was balancing himself very nicely, and making tremendousflourishes, when two brown, dimpled hands scrubbed up the shock ofcurly hair, and the sudden onslaught destroyed his equilibrium, asFlossy would have said, and down he went on the floor in crab fashion,looking as if he were all arms and legs.
"Charlie, you midget! just wait till I catch you. I haven't the broth,but the other thing will do as well."
But Charlie was on the outside; and her little brown, bare feet wereas fleet as a deer's. Joe saw her skimming over the meadow; but theafternoon was very warm, and a dozen yards satisfied him for a race, sohe turned about.
"Joe, you might take Dot a little while, I think," said Halbeseechingly, as Joe braced himself against the door-post. "I've heldher all the afternoon."
"She won't come--will you, Dot?"
But Dot signified her gratification by stretching out her hands. Joewas a good-natured fellow; and, though he might have refused Haleasily, he couldn't resist Dot's tender appeal, so he took her on hisshoulder and began trotting off to Danbury Cross. Dot laughed out ofher sleepy eyes, highly delighted at this change in the programme.
"Oh, dear!" and Hal rubbed his tired arms. "I shouldn't thinkgrandmother would know what to do, sure enough! What a host of us thereare,--six children!"
"I'm sure I do my best," said Flossy with a pathetic little sniff. "Butit's very hard to be an orphan and poor."
"And when there are six of us, and we are all orphans, and all poor, itmust be six times as hard," put in Joe with a sly twinkle.
Then he changed Dot from her triumphal position on his shoulder to akind of cradle in his arms. Her eyelids drooped, and she began to croona very sleepy tune.
Hal looked out of the window, over to the woods, where the westwardsun was making a wonderful land of gold and crimson. Sometimes hehad beautiful dreams of that softened splendor, but now they weremercenary. If one could only coin it all into money! There was poorgrandmother slaving away, over at Mrs. Kinsey's,--she should come home,and be a princess, to say the very least.
"I guess I'll clear up a bit!" said Hal, coming down from the clouds,and glancing round at the disorderly room. "Granny will be most tiredto death when her day's work is done. Flossy, if you wouldn't mindgoing in the other room."
Flossy gathered up her skirts and her crocheting, and did not take theinvitation at all amiss.
Then Hal found the stubby broom, and swept the floor; dusted themantle, after removing an armful of "trash;" went at the wooden chairs,that had once been painted a gorgeous yellow with green bars; andcleared a motley accumulation of every thing off of the table, hangingup two or three articles, and tucking the rest into a catch-all closet.A quaint old pitcher, that had lost both spout and handle, was emptiedof some faded flowers, and a fresh lot cut,--nothing very choice; butthe honeysuckle scented the room, and the coxcombs gave their crimsonglow to the top of the pyramid.
"Why, Mrs. Betty," said Joe, "you've made quite a palace out of yourend of the shoe, and this miserable little Dot has gone to sleep atlast. Shall I put her in the cradle, or drop her down the well?"
Hal smiled a little, and opened the door. It was the best room, quitelarge, uncarpeted, but clean; and though the bed was covered with ahomemade spread, it was as white as it could be. The cradle was notquite as snowy; for the soiled hands that tumbled Dot in and out leftsome traces.
To get her safely down was a masterpiece of strategy. Joe bumped herhead; and Hal took her in his arms, hushing her in a low, motherlyfashion, and pressing his brown cheek to hers, which looked the colorof milk that had been skimmed, and then split in two, and skimmedagain. She made a dive in Hal's hair with her little bird's claw of ahand, but presently dropped asleep again.
"I guess she'll take a good long nap," whispered Hal, quite relieved.
"I'm sure she ought," sighed Florence.
Hal went back to his housekeeping. He was as handy as a girl, any day.He pulled some radishes, and put them in a bowl of cold water, andchopped some lettuce and onions together, the children were all so fondof it. Then he gleaned the raspberries, and filled the saucer withcurrants that were not salable.
Joe, in the meanwhile, had gone after Mrs. Green's cows. She gave thema quart of milk daily for driving the cows to and from the pasture, anddoing odd chores.
"If you see the children, send them home," had been Hal's partinginjunction. "Grandmother will soon be here."
She came before Joe returned. The oddest looking little old woman thatyou ever saw. Florence, at fourteen, was half a head taller. Thin andwrinkled and sunburned; her flaxen hair
turning to silver, and yetobstinately full of little curls; her blue eyes pale and washed out,and hosts of "crows'-feet" at the corners; and her voice cracked andtremulous.
Poor Grandmother Kenneth! She had worked hard enough in her day, andwas still forced to keep it up, now that it was growing twilight withher. But I don't believe there was another as merry a houseful ofchildren in all Madison.
Joe's discovery was not far out of the way. The old woman, whosebiography and family troubles were so graphically given by MotherGoose, died long before our childhood; but I think Granny Kenneth musthave looked like her, though I fancy she was better natured. As forthe children, many and many a time she had not known what to do withthem,--when they were hungry, when they were bad, when their clotheswere worn out and she had nothing to make new ones with, when they hadno shoes; and yet she loved the whole six, and toiled for them withouta word of complaint.
Her only son, Joe, had left them to her,--a troublesome legacy indeed;but at that time they had a mother and a very small sum of money.Mrs. Joe was a pretty, helpless, inefficient body, who continuallyfretted because Joe did not get rich. When the poor fellow lay on hisdeath-bed, his disease aggravated by working when he was not able, hetwined his arms around his mother's neck, and cried with a great gasp,--
"You'll be kind to them, mother, and look after them a little. God willhelp you, I know. I should like to live for their sakes."
A month or two after this, Dot was born. Now that her dear Joe wasdead, there was no comfort in the world; so the frail, pretty littlething grieved herself away, and went to sleep beside him in thechurchyard.
The neighbors made a great outcry when Grandmother Kenneth took thechildren to her own little cottage.
"What could she do with them? Why, they will all starve in a bunch,"said one.
"Florence and Joe might be bound out," proposed another.
A third was for sending them to the almshouse, or putting them in someorphan asylum; but five years had come and gone, and they had notstarved yet, though once or twice granny's heart had quaked for fear.
Every one thought it would be such a blessing if Dot would only die.She had been a sight of trouble during the five years of her life.First, she had the whooping cough, which lasted three times as long aswith any ordinary child. Then she fell out of the window, and broke hercollar-bone; and when she was just over that, it was the water-pox. Theothers had the mumps, and Dot's share was the worst of all. Kit had themeasles in the lightest possible form, and actually had to be tied inbed to make him stay there; while it nearly killed poor Dot, who hadbeen suffering from March to midsummer, and was still poor as a crow,and cross as a whole string of comparisons.
But Granny was patient with it all. The very sweetest old woman in theworld, and the children loved her in their fashion; but they seldomrealized all that she was doing for them. And though some of herneighbors appreciated the toil and sacrifice, the greater part of themthought it very foolish for her to be slaving herself to death for ahost of beggarly grandchildren.
"Well, Hal!" she exclaimed in her rather shrill but cheery voice,"how's the day gone?"
"Pretty well: but you're tired to death. I suppose Mrs. Kinsey'scompany came, and there was a grand feast?"
"Grand! I guess it was. Such loads of pies and puddings and kettles ofberries and tubs of cream"--
Granny paused, out of breath from not having put in any commas.
"Ice-cream, you mean? Freezers, they call 'em."
"You do know every thing, Hal!" And granny laughed. "I can't get allthe new-fangled names and notions in my head. There was GrandmotherKinsey, neat as a new pin, and children and grandchildren, and auntsand cousins. But it was nice, Hal."
The boy smiled, thinking of them all.
"Half of the goodies'll spile, I know. Mrs. Kinsey packed me a greatbasket full; and, Hal, here's two dollars. I'm clean tuckered out."
"Then you just sit still, and let me 'tend to you. Dot's asleep; and ifI haven't worried with her this afternoon! That child ought to grow upa wonder, she's been so much trouble to us all. Joe's gone after thecows, and Florence is busy as a bee. Oh, what a splendid basket full!Why, we shall feast like kings!"
With that Hal began to unpack,--a plate full of cut cake, biscuits bythe dozen, cold chicken, delicious slices of ham, and various otherdelicacies.
"We'll only have a few to-night," said Hal economically. "'Tisn't everyday that we have such a windfall. I'll put these out of the children'ssight; for there they come."
The "children" were Charlie and Kit, with barely a year between; Kitbeing seven, and Charlie--her real name was Charlotte, but she was sucha tomboy that they gave her the nickname--was about eight. Hal wasten, and Joe twelve.
"Children," said Hal, "don't come in till you've washed yourselves. Bequiet, for Dot is asleep."
Thus admonished, Charlie did nothing worse than pour a basin of waterover Kit, who sputtered and scolded and kicked until Hal rushed out tosettle them.
"If you're not quiet, you shall not have a mouthful of supper; andwe've lots of goodies."
Kit began to wash the variegated streaks from his face. Charliesoused her head in a pail of water, and shook it like a dog, then ranher fingers through her hair. It was not as light or silken as thatof Florence, and was cropped close to her head. Kit's was almost asblack as a coal; and one refractory lock stood up. Joe called it his"scalp-lock waving in the breeze."
"Now, Charlie, pump another pail of water. There comes Joe, and we'llhave supper."
Charlie eyed Joe distrustfully, and hurried into the house. Hal hung upGranny's sun-bonnet, and placed the chairs around.
"Come, Florence," he said, opening the door softly.
"My eyes!" ejaculated Joe in amaze. "Grandmother, you're a trump."
"Joe!" exclaimed Hal reproachfully.
Joe made amends by kissing Granny in the most rapturous fashion. Thenhe escorted her to the table in great state.
"Have you been good children to-day?" she asked, as they assembledround the table.
"I've run a splinter in my toe; and, oh! my trousers are torn!"announced Kit dolefully.
"If you ever had a whole pair of trousers at one time the world wouldcome to an end," declared Joe sententiously.
"Would it?" And Kit puzzled his small brain over the connection.
"And Charlie preserves a discreet silence. Charlie, my dear, I adviseyou to keep out of the way of the ragmen, or you will find yourself onthe road to the nearest paper-mill."
Florence couldn't help laughing at the suggestion.
"Children!" said their grandmother.
Full of fun and frolic as they were, the little heads bowed reverentlyas Granny asked her simple blessing. She would as soon have gonewithout eating as to omit that.
"I really don't want any thing," she declared. "I've been tasting allday,--a bit here and a bit there, and such loads of things!"
"Tell us all about it," begged Joe. "And who was there,--the grandPanjandrum with a button on the top. Children's children unto the thirdand fourth generation."
"O Joe! if you only wouldn't," began Granny imploringly.
"No, I won't, Granny;" and Joe made a face as long as your arm, or apiece of string.
"Of course I didn't see 'em all, nor half; but men and women andchildren and babies! And Grandmother Kinsey's ninety-five years old!"
"I hope I'll live to be that old, and have lots of people to give me agolden wedding," said Charlie, with her mouth so full that the wordswere pretty badly squeezed.
"This isn't a golden wedding," said Florence with an air of dignity:"it's a birthday party."
"Ho!" and Joe laughed. "You'll be,--
'Ugly, ill-natured, and wrinkled and thin, Worn by your troubles to bone and to skin.'"
"She's never been much else," rejoined Flossy, looking admiringly ather own white arm.
"I'm not as old as you!" And Charlie flared up to scarlet heat.
"Oh! you needn't get so vexed. I was only thinking of t
he skin andbone," said Florence in a more conciliatory manner.
"Well, I don't want to be a 'Mother Bunch.'"
"No fear of you, Charlie. You look like the people who live on someshore,--I've forgotten the name of the place,--and, eat so many fishthat the bones work through."
Charlie felt of her elbows. They were pretty sharp, to be sure. She wasvery tall of her age, and ran so much that it was quite impossible tokeep any flesh on her bones.
"Hush, children!" said grandmother. "I was going to tell you about theparty. Hal, give me a little of your salad, first."
The Kinseys had invited all their relations to a grand familygathering. Granny told over the pleasant and comical incidents that hadcome under her notice,--the mishaps in cooking, the babies that hadfallen down stairs, and various entertaining matters.
By that time supper was ended. Florence set out to take some lace thatshe had been making to a neighbor; Hal washed the dishes, and Charliewiped them; Joe fed the chickens, and then perched himself astride thegate-post, whistling all the tunes he could remember; Kit and Charliewent to bed presently; and Hal and his grandmother had a good talkuntil Dot woke up, strange to say quite good-natured.
"Granny," said Hal, preparing a bowl of bread and milk for his littlesister, "some day we'll all be grown, and you won't have to work sohard."
"Six men and women! How odd it will be!" returned Granny with a smileshining over her tired face.
"Yes. We'll keep you like a lady. You shall have a pretty house to livein, and Dot shall wait upon you. Won't you, Dot?"
Dot shook her head sagely at Granny.
And in the gathering twilight Hal smiled, remembering Joe's conceit.Granny looked happy in spite of her weariness. She, foolish body, wasthinking how nice it was to have them all, even to poor little Dot.
The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe; Or, There's No Place Like Home Page 3
