CHAPTER II.
PLANNING IN THE TWILIGHT.
It was a rainy August day, and the children were having a glorioustime up in the old garret. Over the house-part there were two rooms;but this above the kitchen was kept for rubbish. A big wheel, on whichGranny used to spin in her younger days, now answered for almost anypurpose, from a coach and four, to a menagerie: they could make it intoan elephant, a camel, or a hyena, by a skilful arrangement of drapery.
There were several other pieces of dilapidated furniture, old hats,old boots, a barrel or two of papers; in fact, a lot of uselesstraps and a few trophies that Joe had brought home; to say nothingof Charlie's endless heaps of trash, for she had a wonderful facultyof accumulation; herbs of every kind, bundles of calamus, stacks of"cat-tails," the fuzz of which flew in every direction with the leastwhiff of wind.
The "children" had been raising bedlam generally. Joe was dressed in anold scuttle-shaped Leghorn bonnet and a gay plaid cloak, a strait kindof skirt plaited on a yoke. Granny had offered it to Florence for adress, but it had been loftily declined. Kit was attired as an Indian,his "scalp-lock" bound up with rooster feathers; and he strutted up anddown, jabbering a most uncouth dialect, though of what tribe it wouldbe difficult to say. Charlie appeared in a new costume about everyhalf-hour, and improvised caves in every corner; though it must beconfessed Joe rather extinguished her with his style. He could draw inhis lips until he looked as if he hadn't a tooth in his head, and talklike nearly every old lady in town.
Such whoops and yells and shouts as had rung through the old garretwould have astonished delicate nerves. In one of the bedrooms Grannywas weaving rag-carpet on a rickety loom, for she did a little of everything to lengthen out her scanty income; but the noise of that was as awhiff of wind in comparison.
At last they had tried nearly every kind of transformation, and werebeginning to grow tired. It was still very cloudy, and quite twilightin their den, when Florence came up stairs, and found them huddledaround the window listening to a wonderful story that Joe made up ashe went along. Such fortunes and adventures could only belong to theMunchausen period.
"Dear!" exclaimed Florence, "I thought the chief of the Mohawks haddeclared war upon the Narragansetts, and everybody had been scalped,you subsided so suddenly. You've made racket enough to take off theroof of the house!"
"It's on yet," was Joe's solemn assurance.
"O Joe!" begged Charlie: "tell us another story,--something about asailor who was wrecked, and lived in a cave, and found bags and bags ofmoney!"
"That's the kind, Charlie. Flo, come on and take a seat."
"Where's Dot?"
"Here in my arms," replied Hal; "as good as a kitten; aren't you, Dot?"
Dot answered with a contented grunt.
"Oh, let's all tell what we'd like to do!" said Charlie, veering roundon a new tack. "Flo'll want to be Cinderella at the king's ball."
Florence tumbled over the pile of legs, and found a seat beside Hal.
"Well, I'll lead off," began Joe with a flourish. "First, I'm going tobe a sailor. I mean to ship with a captain bound for China; and hurra!we'll go out with a flowing sea or some other tip-top thing! Well, Iguess we'll go to China,--this is all suppos'n, you know; and while I'mthere I'll get such lots of things!--crape-shawls and silks for you,Flossy; and cedarwood chests to keep out moths, and fans and beautifulboxes, and a chest of tea, for Granny. On the way home we shall bewrecked. You'll hear the news, and think that I'm dead, sure enough."
"But how will Flo get her shawls?" asked Charlie.
"Oh, you'll hear presently! That's way in the end. I shall be wreckedon an island where there's a fierce native chief; and first he and hismen think they'll kill me." Joe always delighted in harrowing up thefeelings of his audience. "So I offer him the elegant shawls and somemoney"--
"But I thought you lost them all in the wreck!" interposedquick-brained Charlie.
"Oh, no! There's always something floats ashore, you must remember.Well, he concluded not to kill me, though they have a great festivaldance in honor of their idols; and I only escape by promising to behis obedient slave. I find some others who have been cast on thatdesolate shore, and been treated in the same manner. The chief beatsus, and makes us work, and treats us dreadfully. Then we mutiny, andhave a great battle, for a good many of the natives join us. In thescrimmage the old fellow is killed; and there's a tremendous rejoicing,I can tell you, for they all hate him. We divide his treasure, andit's immense, and go to live in his palace. Well, no boat ever comesalong; so we build one for ourselves, and row to the nearest port andtell them the chief is dead. They are very glad, for he was a cruel oldfellow. Then we buy a ship, and go back for the rest of our treasures.We take a great many of the beautiful things out of the palace, andthen we start for home, double-quick. It's been a good many years; and,when I come back, Granny is old, and walking with a cane, Florencemarried to a rich gentleman, and Dot here grown into a handsome girl.But won't I build a stunning house! There'll be a scattering out ofthis old shoe, I tell you."
"Oh, won't it be splendid!" exclaimed Charlie, with a long-drawnbreath. "It's just like a story."
"Now, Hal, it's your turn."
Hal sighed softly, and squeezed Dot a little.
"I shall not go off and be a sailor"--
"Or a jolly young oysterman," said Joe, by way of assistance.
"No. What I'd like most of all"--and Hal made a long pause.
"Even if it's murder, we'll forgive you and love you," went ontormenting Joe.
"O Joe, don't!" besought Florence. "I want to hear what Hal willchoose, for I know just what I'd like to have happen to me."
"So do I," announced Charlie confidently.
"I don't know that I can have it," said Hal slowly; "for it costs agood deal, though I might make a small beginning. It's raising lovelyfruit and flowers, and having a great hot-house, with roses and liliesand dear white blossoms in the middle of the winter. I should love themso much! They always seem like little children to me, with God fortheir father, and we who take care of them for a stepmother; thoughstepmothers are not always good, and the poor wicked ones would bethose who did not love flowers. Why, it would be like fairy-land,--agreat long hot-house, with glass overhead, and all the air sweet withroses and heliotrope and mignonette. And it would be so soft and stillin there, and so very, very beautiful! It seems to me as if heaven mustbe full of flowers."
"Could you sell 'em if you were poor?" asked Charlie, in a low voice.
"Not the flowers in heaven! Charlie, you're a heathen."
"I didn't mean that! Don't you suppose I know about heaven!" retortedCharlie warmly.
"Yes," admitted Joe with a laugh: "he could sell them, and make lots ofmoney. And there are ever so many things: why, Mr. Green paid six centsapiece for some choice tomato-plants."
"When I'm a man, I think I'll do that. I mean to try next summer in mygarden."
"May I tell now?" asked Charlie, who was near exploding with her secret.
"Yes. Great things," said Joe.
"I'm going to run away!" And Charlie gave her head an exultant toss,that, owing to the darkness, was lost to her audience.
Joe laughed to his utmost capacity, which was not small. The old garretfairly rang again.
Florence uttered a horrified exclamation; and Kit said,--
"I'll go with you!"
"Girls don't run away," remarked Hal gravely.
"But I mean to, and it'll be royal fun," was the confident reply.
"Where will you go? and will you beg from door to door?" asked Joequizzically.
"No: I'm going out in the woods," was the undaunted rejoinder. "I meanto find a nice cave; and I'll bring in a lot of good dry leaves andsome straw, and make a bed. Then I'll gather berries; and I know how tocatch fish, and I can make a fire and fry them. I'll have a gay timegoing off to the river and rambling round, and there'll be no lessonsto plague a body to death. It will be just splendid."
"Suppose a bear co
mes along and eats you up?" suggested Joe.
"As if there were any bears around here!" Charlie returned with immensedisdain.
"Well, a snake, or a wild-cat!"
"I'm not afraid of snakes."
"But you'd want a little bread."
"Oh! I'd manage about that. I do mean to run away some time, just forfun."
"You'll be glad to run back again!"
"You see, now!" was the decisive reply.
"Florentina, it is your turn now. We have had age before beauty."
Florence tossed her soft curls, and went through with a few prettyairs.
"I shouldn't run away," she said slowly; "but I'd like to _go_, forall that. Sometimes, as I sit by the window sewing, and see an elegantcarriage pass by, I think, what if there should be an old gentleman init, who had lost his wife and all his children, and that one of hislittle girls looked like--like me? And if he should stop and ask me fora drink, I'd go to the well and draw a fresh, cool bucketful"--
"From the north side--that's the coldest," interrupted Joe.
"Hush, Joe! No one laughed at you!"
"Laugh! Why, I am sober as an owl."
"Then I'd give him a drink. I wish we could have some goblets: tumblerslook so dreadfully old-fashioned. I mean to buy _one_, at least, sometime. He would ask me about myself; and I'd tell him that we were allorphans, and had been very unfortunate, and that our grandmother wasold"--
"'Four score and ten of us, poor old maids,-- Four score and ten of us, Without a penny in our _puss_, Poor old maids,'"
sang Joe pathetically, cutting short the _purse_ on account of therhyme.
"O Joe, you are too bad! I won't tell any more."
"Yes, do!" entreated Hal. "And so he liked you on account of theresemblance, and wanted to adopt you."
"Exactly! Hal, how could you guess it?" returned Florence, muchmollified. "And so he would take me to a beautiful house, where therewere plenty of servants, and get me lovely clothes to wear; and therewould be lots of china and silver and elegant furniture and a piano.I'd go to school, and study music and drawing, and never have to sew ordo any kind of work. Then I'd send you nice presents home; and, whenyou were fixed up a little, you should come and see me. And maybe, Hal,as you grew older, he would help you about getting a hot-house. I thinkwhen I became a woman, I would take Dot to educate."
"I've heard of fairy godmothers before, but this seems to be agodfather. Here's luck to your old covey, Florrie, drunk in imaginarychampagne."
"Joe, I wish you wouldn't use slang phrases, nor be so disrespectful."
"I'm afraid I'll have to keep clear of the palace."
"Oh, if it only could be!" sighed Hal. "I think Flo was meant for alady."
Florence smiled inwardly at hearing this. It was her opinion also.
"Here, Kit, are you asleep?" And Joe pulled him out of the pile by oneleg. "Wake up, and give us your heart's desire."
Kit indulged in a vigorous kick, which Joe dodged.
"It'll be splendid," began Kit, "especially the piano. I've had myhands over my eyes, making stars; and I was thinking"--
"That's just what we want, Chief of the Mohawk Valley. Don't keep us insuspense."
"I'm going to save up my money, like some one Hal was reading about theother day, and buy a fiddle."
A shout of laughter greeted this announcement, it sounded so comical.
Kit rubbed his eyes in amazement, and failed to see any thing amusing.Then he said indignantly,--
"You needn't make such a row!"
"But what will you do with a fiddle? You might tie a string to Charlie,and take her along for a monkey; or you might both go round singing ina squeaky voice,--
'Two orphan boys of Switzerland.'"
"You're real mean, Joe," said Kit, with his voice full of tears.
"Kit, I'll give you the violin myself when I get rich," Florenceexclaimed in a comforting tone, her soft hand smoothing down therefractory scalp-lock; "but I would say violin, it sounds so muchnicer. And then you'll play."
"Play!" enunciated Kit in a tone that I cannot describe, as if thatwere a weak word for the anticipated performance. "I'd make her talk!They'd sit there and listen,--a whole houseful of people it wouldbe, you know; and when I first came out with my fiddle,--violin.I mean,--they would look at me as if they thought I couldn't domuch. I'd begin with a slow sound, like the wind wailing on a winternight,--I guess I'd have it a storm, and a little lost child, foryou can make almost any thing with a violin; and the cries shouldgrow fainter and fainter, for she would be chilled and worn out;and presently it should drop down into the snow, and there'd be thesoftest, strangest music you ever heard. The crowd would listen andlisten, and hold their breath; and when the storm cleared away, and theangels came down for the child, it would be so, so sad"--and there wasan ominous falter in Kit's voice, "they couldn't help crying. There'dbe an angel's song up in heaven; and in the sweetest part of it all,I'd go quietly away, for I wouldn't want any applause."
"But you'd have it," said Hal softly, reaching out for the smallfingers that were to evoke such wonderful melody. "It almost makes mecry myself to think of it! and the poor little girl lost in the snow,not bigger than Dot here!"
"Children!" called Granny from the foot of the stairs, "ain't you goingto come down and have any supper? I've made a great pot full of mush."
There was a general scrambling. Hal carried Dot in his arms, for shewas fast asleep. Two or three times in the short journey he stopped tokiss the soft face, thinking of Kit's vision.
"Oh, we've been having such a splendid time!" announced Charlie. "Allof us telling what we'd like to do; and, Granny, Joe's going to buildyou an _elegant_ house!" with a great emphasis on the word, as Charliewas not much given to style, greatly to the sorrow and chagrin ofFlorence.
Granny gave a cheerful but cracked treble laugh, and asked,--
"What'll he build it of, my dear,--corn-cobs?"
"Oh, a _real_ house! He's going to make lots of money, Joe is, and getshipwrecked."
Granny shook her head, which made the little white curls bob aroundoddly enough.
"How you do mix up things, Charlie," said Joe, giving her a poke withhis elbow. "You're a perfect harum-scarum! I don't wonder you want tolive in the woods. Go look at your head: it stands out nine ways forSunday!"
Charlie ran her fingers through her hair, her usual manner of arrangingit.
"Granny, here's this little lamb fast asleep. She's grown to be one ofthe best babies in the world;" and Hal kissed her again.
He had such a tender, girlish heart, that any thing weak or helplessalways appealed to him. Their sleek, shining Tabby had been a poor,forlorn, broken-legged kitten when he found her; and there was no endto the birds and chickens that he nursed through accidents.
But for a fortnight Dot had been improving, it must be confessed,being exempt from disease and broken bones.
"Poor childie! Just lay her in the bed, Hal."
There was a huge steaming dish of mush in the middle of the table; andthe hungry children went at it in a vigorous manner. Some had milk,and some had molasses; and they improvised a dessert by using a littlebutter, sugar, and nutmeg. They spiced their meal by recounting theirimaginary adventures; but Granny was observed to wipe away a few tearsover the shipwreck.
"It was all make believe," said Joe sturdily. "Lots of people go tosea, and don't get wrecked."
"But I don't want you to go," Granny returned in a broken tone of voice.
"Pooh!" exclaimed Joe, with immense disdain. "Don't people meet withaccidents on the land? Wasn't Steve Holder killed in the mill. And if Iwas on the cars in a smash-up, I couldn't swim out of that!"
Joe took a long breath, fancying that he had established his pointbeyond a cavil.
"But sailors never make fortunes," went on Granny hesitatingly.
"Captains do, though; and it's a jolly life. Besides, we couldn't allstay in this little shanty, unless we made nests i
n the chimney likethe swallows; and I don't know which would tumble down first,--we orthe chimney."
Charlie laughed at the idea.
"I shall stay with you always, Granny," said Hal tenderly. "And Dot,you know, will be growing into a big girl and be company for us. We'llget along nicely, never fear."
Some tears dropped unwittingly into Granny's plate, and she didn't wantany more supper. It was foolish, of course. She ought to be thankful tohave them all out of the way and doing for themselves. Here she was,over fifty, and had worked hard from girlhood. Some day she would beworn out.
But, in spite of all their poverty and hardship, she had been veryhappy with them; and theirs were by no means a forlorn-looking set offaces. Each one had a little beauty of its own; and, though they werefar from being pattern children, she loved them dearly in spite oftheir faults and roughnesses. And in their way they loved her, thoughsometimes they were great torments.
And so at bed-time they all crowded round to kiss the wrinkled face,unconsciously softened by the thought of the parting that was to comesomewhere along their lives. But no one guessed how Granny held littleDot in her arms that night, and prayed in her quaint, fervent fashionthat she might live to see them all grown up and happy, good andprosperous men and women, and none of them straying far from the oldhome-nest.
I think God listened with watchful love. No one else would have madecrooked paths so straight.
The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe; Or, There's No Place Like Home Page 4
