“There doesn’t seem to be a great deal of money here,” I remarked. “I rather thought Miss Martha had more than this. Although perhaps she keeps it hidden elsewhere. She must have batches of Richmond money tucked away somewhere in the house.”
“Possibly so,” said Edwina, “but I would guess Miss Martha is smart enough to realize Richmond money isn’t worth hiding. Anyway I’m only interested in gold pieces like these and I believe I’ll just take a few of them back.”
“That’s stealing,” I told her. “That really is stealing!”
“I don’t consider it so,” she said. “I feel I’ve been greatly overcharged at this place. I’ve paid Miss Martha more than any other student during my time here—a great deal more, I’m sure than what you’ve paid. Anyway I’m not planning to take it all, just a little of it.” She removed about ten double eagles from the fifty or more in the tray, taking only the shiniest ones, I noticed.
“If I had the nerve to take any,” I said, “I’d surely take it all.”
“Oh, I don’t want it all,” said Edwina, “I won’t keep these for very long. Miss Martha will get them back again eventually. I just want to hang on to these few pieces for a while longer, as a sort of safeguard. As long as I have money, I can’t be discharged from here, can I?”
Well I had no way of knowing the answer to that. I suggested that if Miss Martha really wanted to be rid of a person, she wouldn’t let money stand in the way. She might be strongly influenced by money, but I don’t hold with those here who feel that she is interested in nothing else.
Anyway during this conversation I had taken a little gold and enamel locket from the tray and was toying with it. It happened to be the kind of locket which opens to reveal a tiny portrait and the portrait in this locket was a miniature version of Robert as he appears in the painting of the three Farnsworth children which hangs in the library. Well none of this is important, except that as I was examining the locket, Edwina replaced the tray, closed and locked the box and put it back in the drawer, apparently without realizing that I still held the locket. Or perhaps she did realize it and wanted to see if I would make her open the box again.
Well I felt it was not worth starting a fuss over it, and so I slipped the locket in my bosom, intending to show it to Johnny and to replace it some time later. I certainly felt that it was nothing which would be missed immediately by Miss Martha.
“Here are your keys,” said Edwina, handing me the ring. “I’ll say nothing about the keys, if you’ll agree to do the same about the gold pieces.”
“All right,” I said. “After all neither of us is stealing anything, are we?”
“I’m not, certainly,” Edwina said.
“I intend to keep quiet about Miss Martha’s wig also,” said I.
“You can do as you please about that matter.” Then as we came out into the hall she added, “The hair she had made is rather like my own natural hair, don’t you think?’
“Yes, something like it.”
“The color and texture are much the same. My hair is very straight too, like the kind Miss Martha chose, can you notice?”
I noticed and agreed. Anything to keep Edwina satisfied. And amazingly enough, it won a smile for me—a friendly smile this time.
“Will you give the keys to Johnny now?” she asked.
“As well now as later,” said I.
“Tell me truthfully, Alicia,” she said then, “are you very fond of him?”
“Not as much now as before,” I admitted. She had used my proper name for the first time and I appreciated that. “How do you feel about him now?”
“I feel nothing for him,” she said, and her smile was gone. “I think more of you, much more, than I do of McBurney. You and I have many things in common, Alicia. It might be well if you kept that in mind.”
She put her hand gently on the back of my neck and squeezed one of my curls a few times between her fingers as you might do with a piece of goods. That girl apparently has a positive obsession about hair, although in all honesty it is not unusual for people to admire mine, since it is so naturally blond and silken. Anyway Edwina made no comment and I made none and then she smiled again and, jingling the gold coins in her hand, went off to her room.
Well, of course, I had no desire to become a chum of Edwina Morrow. I have been around this school long enough to know that it is far better to remain friendless yourself, than to become involved with someone like Edwina, who seemingly needs friendship so badly. It was something I had not suspected about her before, thinking that she kept apart from the rest of us through choice and not for want of an invitation. Anyway I don’t lack for companionship here, and as for something more enduring, I’m sure there will always be members of the other sex to supply me with affection when I have need of it. I’m speaking now of the time when this ridiculous war is over and I can get away from here.
So I traveled back downstairs to the parlor with my gift for McBurney. He was sleeping when I entered the room, but I overcame that by tickling the sole of his remaining foot.
“Mum,” he said drowsily. “Stop that, Mum. I’ll get up in a wink . . . so I will. . . .”
“It’s not your mother, it’s me,” I told him, “and here’s your key ring.” I threw it on his chest. “Now I don’t want to hear any more about it.”
He opened his blue eyes then and stared at me for a rather long time. “You are a dear girl,” he finally said, “a sweet lovely girl and to reward you I might even make you my wife.”
“No, thank you,” said I.
“What’s wrong with the notion? Is it my lack of a leg?”
“It’s your lack of money,” I informed him. “When I marry I’ll pick a wealthy man.”
“You’ve decided that already, have you, little girl?” Johnny grinned, still in good humor. “Well you’ve changed your tune since a while ago then, though I can’t say I blame you for it. You’re startin to realize it’s a hard tough life and the devil take the last in line. Anyway I intend to be rich someday, my dear, and then you may wish you’d been nicer to me.”
“I’ll always be nice to you, Johnny, as long as you’re nice to me.”
“That’s my girl. We’ll be nice to each other then, shall we?”
“All right, Johnny.”
And so I spent some time with him there on the settee and just to show you how completely his mood could change from one day—or even one hour—to the next, I believe Johnny was nicer and gentler with me on that afternoon than he had ever been before, or for that matter, ever was again.
We really didn’t accomplish much in the romantic way, of course, because he just wasn’t in any physical condition for it. We mostly joked and giggled and talked about our past and speculated about our future. For instance, Johnny said he wasn’t at all concerned about his missing leg any more because he’d been totaling up all the advantages which a one legged man could enjoy, such as the savings on stockings and shoe leather, to say nothing of reduced corn and bunion problems, as well as much less time wasted trimming toe nails. Well we both laughed uproariously over that and then I told him about Edwina’s gold pieces and the other things we had discovered and even about Miss Martha’s wig, because right then I didn’t see any need to keep anything from him.
Then I showed him the little locket, which I had concealed in my bosom. He didn’t seem much interested in that—just glanced at it for a moment and then wanted to put it back in its hiding place, but naturally I wouldn’t permit anything like that, especially in broad daylight in the parlor. Finally he shoved the locket and the key ring behind the settee cushions and then we just went on talking, and kissing once in a while too, I guess, until it was nearly time for dinner, when we were interrupted by Miss Amelia Dabney, who came in the room and made a very savage remark.
“You are thought to be upstairs readying yourself for dinner, Miss Alice,” she said
bitterly, “along with all the others who went up some time ago. Whether or not you are planning to come unwashed to table is of absolutely no consequence to me. However, I think Corporal McBurney might be interested in knowing that Mattie is about ready to bring his dinner in here, and she may be a bit surprised to find two people instead of one lying on this rather narrow settee.”
“I was only resting a little, Miss,” I shouted at her. “And if anyone comes to table with dirty hands more often than you, I certainly don’t know who that person could be. Kindly mind your own business, Miss!”
“I always do so, Alice,” she said, more cheerfully now that she had made me angry. “One other announcement for Corporal McBurney. Emily and I have finished his crutches. They may not look the kind you’d get in Richmond or New York City, but they’re the best we could do with the materials on hand.”
“I’m sure they’re very nice, Dolly,” Johnny told her. “And Alice really was only restin a bit here. She sat down for a moment to chat with me and then she went into a sudden doze like and just toppled over. Where are the crutches, Amelia, dear?”
“You’re to get them tonight. We’re having what Emily chooses to call a ‘Crutch Presentation Ceremony,’ which will take place immediately after dinner. Really, Johnny,” Amelia went on, “I don’t give two figs for your biological affairs, but I should think your companion might have the grace to arise from her extremely unladylike position, especially after comments have been made about it.”
“Who are you, who are you?” I yelled after her as she left the room. “Is Amelia Dabney, who carries bugs around in her dress pockets, supposed to be some kind of authority on ladylike behavior!” Oh I was really angry then, you can believe me, especially since I was just about ready to get up from that settee anyway, if the nasty little thing had given me half a chance. And Johnny’s attitude didn’t make me feel any better about it.
“Oh Lord God,” he cried, whooping with laughter. “You girls will be the death of me yet!”
“I don’t see anything funny about it at all,” I told him as I arose abruptly.
“Look out there now, dammit. . . . You’ve bumped that leg!”
“Oh, Johnny, I am sorry,” I said, even though I wasn’t really. “Do you think I injured anything?”
“I don’t know. I can tell you it hurts like the old Nick.”
“Take a look.”
“I can’t look. . . .”
“Haven’t you ever looked at it yet?”
“No, and I don’t intend to until I have a first class wooden one strapped on there.”
“That may not be for quite a while yet.”
“Maybe not so long. Amelia says she can show me where to get some good stout timber, once I’m on the crutches. Then I’ll get started carvin myself the new one.”
“How do you avoid looking at your stump when Miss Martha comes in to change the bandages?”
“I close my eyes and keep them closed. And I do the same when Mattie comes in to help me with my private needs, since I’m sure that would be your next question, you shameless thing. Well, I won’t need the bandages much longer, according to the old lady, since it’s almost healed she says. And I won’t need Mattie’s services either, thank God, since I can fend for myself once I get the crutches.”
“You’re feeling better about the whole thing now, I guess.”
“Maybe I am. I’ve been thinkin it’s hardly more than my foot and a bit above I’ve lost. It’ll be no trouble to replace that with a piece of good wood, and then in a month or so I’ll be hoppin about on it as good as new. Don’t you believe that, Alice?”
“Oh sure I do,” I said, although I didn’t. His leg had been severed very close to the knee and Emily Stevenson had told us a few days earlier that, based on conversations she had had with her father about these matters, she doubted very much if McBurney could ever get a good fit with a wooden leg, because of the lop-sided way the bones had been cut.
Well Johnny would find all that out later. There was certainly no point in my spoiling things for him. I gave him a very sisterly kiss then—because of his condition—and took my leave of him. In all honesty I must say that we had enjoyed a very pleasant hour together, and I was feeling very sorry for him as I went up the stairs. He had been very mean to me only a short while before and, if I had only known it, very soon he would be extremely mean again, but on that afternoon I was willing to forget his nasty side. In fact, I believe that afternoon was the closet I ever came to loving him.
Emily Stevenson
Amelia would have had me go out to the woods and chop down a tree to make the supports for McBurney—or perhaps it was a tree already fallen she wanted me to saw into boards, since she is so loath to destroy any living thing in that forest. However I had neither the time nor the training for that kind of labor, and so I finally convinced my assistant we must make do with the boards and sticks on hand.
Miss Martha had assigned me to the task and commended me to be hasty with it when she saw how rapidly McBurney was beginning to recover. I suppose Amelia would say that making the crutches was her idea, and that may be true, but nevertheless it was I who was put in charge of the project, no doubt due to Miss Martha’s feeling that it needed a person of some responsibility at the helm.
And so I began by gathering all the wood I could find and putting it in one great pile and then when it was all assembled I set to studying it. I might say I tried my level best to get some of the other students to help me in this preliminary task but not one of them was willing—with the exception of Amelia and, of course, she was only participating because of her great fondness for McBurney. Anyway some of the others—Marie Deveraux especially—took great pleasure in standing by and making nasty comments as I labored.
“Those crutches may not be the finest ever made,” was how one such Marie Deveraux remark began, I remember. “Those crutches may not be the best in the world, but they will certainly be the funniest. I expect a person would have to travel far to find another pair of crutches made out of table legs and bed posts.”
“Clear out of here, you little imp,” I shouted at her. “These crutches are not being designed for beauty but for service!” And in my wrath I banged my thumb with the hammer and then tore my skirt on a projecting nail when I reached down to find a chunk of wood to hurl at my tormentor.
“Amelia,” Marie yelled from a safe distance, “you’d better prepare to make some crutches for Emily. I think she’ll need them before she’s through with her carpentry work.”
“It’s best to ignore her,” Amelia advised me, and of course I knew that already. If Marie ever finds she is managing to irritate you, she will go without food or rest for a solid week in order to continue it.
Well, as I said, the crutches were no works of art but I did hope they would serve their purpose. Admittedly, I was using the legs of an old dining table as the main upright supports and to the tops of these I had nailed what might have been bed posts and slats, and also some stair dowels which were apparently left over from the building of the Farnsworth house. The crutches may have looked a trifle odd but they also seemed to me to be very sturdy. Anyway, as I told McBurney, soldiers cannot afford to be choosy during times like these.
He agreed, although rather listlessly. I had gone in to measure him for the crutches, and I was trying to accomplish this by stretching a piece of thread from his armpit to the sole of his remaining foot. McBurney didn’t cooperate at all but instead, when I lifted the blanket which covered the lower part of him, he shut his eyes tightly and turned to the back of the settee which meant that he was lying on his good leg, thereby making it awfully difficult for me to measure.
He feared to look at his stump, you understand, even though it was still heavily bandaged. I might also add that he was still wearing an old night shirt which had belonged to Robert Farnsworth, and which Mattie had put on him during his period of uncons
ciousness, and it was therefore not at all improper of me to raise his blanket.
“If you’re going to act this way,” I told him,” you will never be allowed to serve with my father’s brigade. A Southern soldier has to learn to bear misfortunes without whining.”
“Is there a chance yet of my being taken on there?” he asked, still facing the settee.
I didn’t think there was any chance, of course, but I didn’t want to discourage him by telling him so. Even were he able to overcome the physical handicap, I had begun to develop serious doubts that he had the courage to be of any use in our Southern cause.
“One thing I can tell you,” I said, “is that General Joseph Johnson was wounded twice at Seven Pines, but lived to fight again. General Jubal Early was wounded very badly at Williamsburg two years ago but recovered and took the field again.”
Then I also mentioned a few other such incidents which had happened in my father’s own brigade. Many of his officers and men had suffered severe wounds, during their three years of service, including the loss of one entire right arm by one brave fellow, and they had all returned to duty just as soon as they were able.
“Godalmighty, wouldn’t they even let a fella out of it after he’d donated an arm to the cause,” was McBurney’s muffled comment.
“Not now,” said I. “We need all the experienced help we can get right now. Besides that particular man I mentioned is an officer, Lieutenant Stewart Meadows of Mobile, who had his arm blown off at the shoulder at Sharpsburg, and officers can’t be spared right now if they’re able to get about at all.”
“The more I hear about your Pa’s brigade, the more I think a fella’d be wise to think twice before he joined it,” said McBurney.
“Anyone who felt that way about it wouldn’t be welcome anyway,” was my rejoinder.
The Beguiled Page 38
