XI
RACHEL
"Here she comes!" roared Mr. Tisbett. The townspeople, hurrying toBadgertown depot to see the train bearing the new little girl sent on byMrs. Fisher to their parson's care, crowded up, Mr. and Mrs. Hendersonsmilingly in the center of the biggest group.
"Oh, husband, I do pity her so!" breathed the parson's wife. "Poor thing,she will be so shy and distressed!" The parson's heart gave a responsivethrill, as he craned his neck to peer here and there for their new charge."She hasn't come. Oh, dear me!"--as a voice broke in at his elbow.
"I'm here." The words weren't much, to be sure, but the tone was whollyself-possessed, and when the parson whirled around, and Mrs. Henderson, whohad been looking the other way, brought her gaze back, they saw a littlegirl in a dark brown suit, a brown hat under which fell smooth braids ofblack hair, who was regarding them with a pair of the keenest eyes they hadeither of them ever seen.
"Oh--oh--my child--" stammered Mr. Henderson, putting out a kind hand. "Soyou have come, Rachel?"
"Yes, I am Rachel," said the child, looking up into his face and laying herhand in the parson's big one; then she turned her full regard upon theminister's wife.
Mrs. Henderson was divided in her mind, for an instant, whether to kissthis self-possessed child, as she had fully arranged in her mind beforehandto do, or to let such a ceremony go by. But in a breathing space she hadher arms about her, and was drawing her to her breast.
"Rachel, dear, I am so glad you have come to us."
Rachel glanced up sharply, heaved a big sigh, and when she lifted her headfrom Mrs. Henderson's neck, there was something bright that glistened ineither eye; she brushed it off before any one could spy it, as the parsonwas saying:
"And now, where is your bag, child--er--Rachel, I mean?"
Rachel pointed to the end of the platform. "I'll go an' tell 'em to bringit here."
"No, no, child." The parson started briskly.
"Let us all go," said Mrs. Henderson kindly, gathering Rachel's hand up inone of hers. "Come, dear." So off they hurried, the platform's length, thefarmers and their wives looking after them with the greatest interest.
"My, but ain't Mrs. Henderson glad to get a girl, though!"
"Yes, she sets by her a'ready."
"Sakes alive! I thought she was a poor child," exclaimed one woman, who wasdreadfully disappointed to lose the anticipated object of charity.
"So she is," cried another--"as poor as Job's turkey, but Mr. King hasdressed her up, you know, an' he's goin' to edicate her, too."
"Well, she'll pay for it, I reckon. My! she looks smart, even the back ofher!"
And before very long, Rachel had been inducted into her room, a prettylittle one under the eaves, neat as a pin in blue-and-white chintzcovering, around which she had given a swift glance of approval. And nowshe was down in the parsonage kitchen, in a calico gown and checked apron;her own new brown ribbons having been taken off from her braids, rolled upcarefully, and laid in the top drawer, the common, every-day ones takingtheir places.
Peletiah and Ezekiel were each in a corner of the kitchen, with their paleblue eyes riveted on her.
"Well, dear," Mrs. Henderson greeted her kindly, "you have changed yourgown very quickly."
A tall, square-shouldered woman stalked in from the little entry.
"Oh, Jerusha," exclaimed Mrs. Henderson pleasantly, "this is the littlegirl that Mrs. Fisher sent us. Rachel, go up and speak to Miss Jerusha."
Rachel went over obediently and put out her hand, which the parson's sisterdidn't seem to see. Instead, she drew herself up stiffer than ever, andstared at the child.
"Ah, well, I hope she won't forget that she's very poor, and that you'vetaken her out of pity," said Miss Jerusha.
Rachel started back as if shot, and her black eyes flashed. "I ain't poor,"she screamed. "I ain't goin' to be pitied."
"Yes, you are, too," declared Miss Jerusha, quite pleased at the effect ofher words, and telling off each syllable by bringing one set of bonyfingers down on the other emphatically; "in fact, you're a beggar, and mybrother----"
"I ain't, ain't, ain't!" screamed Rachel shrilly, and, flinging herself onher face on the floor, she flapped her feet up and down and writhed indistress. "I want to go home!" she sobbed.
The boys, for once in their lives, actually started, and presently theywere across the kitchen, to their mother, kneeling by Rachel's side.
"Don't let her go," they said together.
"She isn't going," said Mrs. Henderson, smoothing the shaking shoulders,but Rachel screamed on.
"Dear me!" The parson hurried in at the uproar, his glasses set up on hisforehead where his nervous fingers had pushed them. "What is the matter?"
"That poor child," answered Miss Jerusha, pointing a long finger over atthe group in the middle of the kitchen, "is acting like Satan. I guessyou'll repent, brother, ever bringing her here."
"'Twas Aunt Jerusha," declared Peletiah bluntly, "and I wish she'd gohome."
"Hush, hush, dear," said his mother, looking up into his face.
There was an awful pause, the parson drew a long breath, then he turned tohis sister.
"Jerusha," he said, "I wish you would go into the sitting-room, if youplease."
"An' let you pet that beggar child," she exclaimed, in shrill scorn, butshe stalked off.
Mr. Henderson went swiftly across the kitchen and knelt down by his wife.
"Rachel"--he put his hand on the little girl's head--"get directly up, mychild!"
Rachel lifted her eyes, and peered about. "Has she gone--that dreadful,bad, old woman?"
"There is no one here but those who love you," said the minister. "Now,child, get directly up and sit in that chair." He indicated the one, and ina minute Rachel was perched on it, with streaming eyes. Peletiah, havingstarted to get a towel, and in his trepidation presenting the dish-rag, theparson dried her tears on his own handkerchief.
"Now, then, that is better," he said, in satisfaction, as they all groupedaround her chair.
"Rachel, there mustn't be anything of this sort--tears, I mean--again.That lady is my sister, and----"
_"Your sister!"_ screamed Rachel, precipitating herself forward on herchair in imminent danger of falling on her nose, to gaze at him inamazement.
"Yes"--a dull red flush crept over the minister's face--"and--and whatevershe says, Rachel, why, you are not to mind, child."
"She ain't a-goin' to sass me," declared Rachel stoutly.
"Well, I don't believe she will again; let us hope not," said Mr.Henderson, in a worried way. "However, you are not to cry; remember that,Rachel, whatever happens," he added firmly: "you are to be happy here; thisis your home, and we all love you."
"You do?" said Rachel, much amazed, looking at them all. "Oh, well, then,I'll stay." And slipping down from her chair, she seized Mrs. Henderson'sapron. "What'll I do? Mrs. Fisher told me how to wash dishes. May I do'em?"
"Yes, and the boys shall wipe them," said Mrs. Henderson, and pretty soonthere was a gay little bustle in the old kitchen, the parson staying awayfrom the writing of the sermon to see it.
But Peletiah and Ezekiel were much too slow to suit Rachel, who got farahead of them, so she flew to the drawer in the big table where she hadseen them get the dish-towels, and, helping herself, she fell to workdrying some of the big pile in the drainer in the sink.
"I don't see how you can go so fast," observed Peletiah, laboriouslypolishing up his plate.
"Well, I don't see how you can go so slow," retorted Rachel, with deftpasses of the towel over the cup. "My! I sh'd think your elbows had gone tosleep."
"They haven't gone to sleep," said Peletiah, who was always literal; andsetting down his plate, half-dried, on the table, he turned over one arm toinvestigate.
"Of course not, you little ninny," said Rachel lightly. "I didn't----"
"Rachel, Rachel!" said the parson's wife, over by the table. She wasgetting her material together for baking pies, and she now added ge
ntly,"We don't call each other names, you must remember that, child."
"Oh!" said Rachel. She stopped her busy towel a minute to think, then itflapped harder and faster, to make up for lost time.
"Well, go ahead," she said to Peletiah, "and wipe your plate."
So Peletiah, letting his elbows take care of themselves, picked up hisplate and set to work on its surface again; and pretty soon the dishes wereall declared done, the pan and mop washed out, and hung up.
"What'll I do next?" Rachel smoothed down her apron and stood before thebaking-table, a boy on either side.
"Now, boys," said Mrs. Henderson, pausing in her work of rolling out thepie crust, "I think you had better take Rachel down to see Grandma Bascom.I've told her she's coming to-day, and she's quite impatient to see her.And, Rachel, you can tell her about Mrs. Fisher and Polly and the boys. Andoh, Rachel, be sure to tell her about Phronsie; she does just love thatchild so!"
The parson's wife leaned on the rolling-pin, and a bright color came intoher face.
"I'll tell her," said Rachel, a soft gleam in her eyes, and smoothing herapron.
"And, Peletiah, go into the buttery, and get that little pat of butter doneup in a cloth, and give it to Grandma. I do wish my pies were baked"--andshe fell to work again--"so I could send her one."
So Peletiah went into the buttery and got the pat of butter, and the threestarted off. The parson stepped away from the doorway into the entry, wherehe had been silently watching proceedings, and went over to the window.
"Come here, Almira." He held out his hand.
She dropped her rolling-pin and ran over to his side. He drew her to him.
"See, dear," he said.
Rachel and the two boys were proceeding over the greensward leading downthe road. She had one on either side; and, wonder of wonders, they were allhand in hand.
"We're going to see your Gran," said Rachel, a very sober expressionsettling over her thin little face.
"What?" said Peletiah.
"Your Gran; that's what your mother said."
"Oh, no, she didn't," contradicted Peletiah; "we are going to GrandmaBascom's."
"Well, that's the same thing," said Rachel; "she's your Gran, isn't she?"
"She's Grandma Bascom," repeated Peletiah stolidly.
"Oh, dear me! of course! But she's _your_ Gran, isn't she?"--hertongue fairly aching to call him "ninny" again.
"No, she isn't; she isn't any one's Gran--she's just Grandma Bascom."
"Oh!" said Rachel. Perhaps it wasn't so very bad as she feared. She wouldwait and see.
"She's dreadfully deaf," remarked Peletiah.
"What's that?"
"She can't hear unless you scream."
Rachel burst into a loud laugh, but it was very musical; and before theyknew it, although they were very much astonished, the two boys werelaughing, too, though they hadn't the least idea at what.
"I'm glad of it," announced Rachel, when she had gotten through. "I love toscream. Sometimes it seems as if I'd die if I couldn't. Don't you?"
"No, I don't," said Peletiah, "ever feel so."
"Don't _you?"_ Rachel leaned over to peer into Ezekiel's face.
"No, I don't, either," he said.
"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed Rachel, catching her breath. "Well, let's run."And before either boy knew what was going to happen, she was hauling themalong at such a mad pace as they had never before in all their livesindulged in.
The butter-pat slipped out of Peletiah's hand, gone on the wind, and landedon the roadside grass.
"Wasn't that a good one!" cried Rachel, her eyes shining, as she brought upsuddenly. "Oh, my! ain't things sweet, though!"--wrinkling up her nose indelight.
"I lost the butter-pat," observed Peletiah, when he could get his breath.
"I never see anything so beautiful," Rachel was saying, over and over. Thenshe flung herself flat on the grass, and buried her nose in it, smelling ithungrily. "Oh, my!"
"I lost the butter-pat," observed Peletiah again, and standing over her.
"And I'm a-goin' to live here," declared Rachel, in a transport, andwriggling in the sweet clover, "if I'm good. I'm goin' to be good all thetime. Yes, sir!"
"I lost the butter-pat," repeated Peletiah.
"Butter-pat?" Rachel caught the last words and sprang to her feet.
"Oh, yes, I forgot; we must hurry with the butter-pat. Come on!" and shewhirled around on Peletiah. "Why, where--?" as she saw his empty hands.
"I lost the butter-pat," said Peletiah. "I've been telling you so."
"No, you haven't," contradicted Rachel flatly.
"Yes, I have," said Peletiah stolidly.
"No such thing." Rachel squared up to him, her black eyes flashing. "Youhaven't said a single word, you bad, wicked boy."
"Yes, I have," repeated Peletiah, ready to say it over for all time; "I'vetold you so a great many times."
Rachel looked at him, and put up both hands. The only thing proper to dounder such circumstances was to shake him smartly, but it seemed so likeattacking a granite post, and besides, he was the minister's son, and shewas going to be good, else they must send her away (so Mrs. Fisher hadsaid), so her arms flopped down to her side, and hung there dismally. Andshe burst out:
"Where did you lose it, you nin--? I mean--oh, dear me!--where, Isay?"--frowning impatiently.
"Back there," said Peletiah, pointing down the road. "You pulled me alongso, it flew out of my hand."
Rachel set her teeth together hard.
"Come on!"
She seized a hand of each boy, Ezekiel being a silent spectator all thetime; and if they went fast before, this time, in retracing their steps, itmight be called flying, till a little spot on the roadside grass showed theobject of their search. Peletiah's breath was gone entirely by this time,and he sank down by its side without a word, his brother following suit.
"I shall carry it now," announced Rachel, gathering up the little pat, safein its white cloth. "My! 'tain't hurt a bit" She brushed off a fewmarauding ants. "Come on, now!"
Peletiah struggled to his feet and gasped, "I shall carry it," and put outhis hands.
"No such thing." Rachel held the butter-pat firmly in her slender, brownhand. "My! you ain't fit to carry no butter-pats--let 'em drop out of yourhands. Come on!"
"I shall carry it," declared Peletiah doggedly, and bringing his pale eyesto bear on her face, while he stood still in his tracks.
"I hope you may get it," cried Rachel triumphantly. "I never see such aboy. Come on, I say." She held out her hand with authority.
"My mother said I was to carry the butter-pat, and I shall carry it," saidPeletiah, putting out one hand for it, and the other behind his back.
Rachel wrinkled her brows and thought a minute.
"So she did," she said. Then she set the butter-pat in Peletiah's hand, andpinched his thumb down over it. "There, hold on to it," she said, "oryou'll lose it again. Now, come on!"
The way back was conducted on slower lines, as Rachel had an anxiousoversight lest the butter-pat should again be taken off on the wind, sothat Peletiah and Ezekiel had a chance to recover their breath, with somedegree of composure, by the time they turned down the lane to GrandmaBascom's. There she was, sitting in her big chintz-covered chair, restingafter the morning's work, as they found on entering the little old kitchen.
Rachel's eyes had been getting bigger and bigger, though she had saidnothing tip to this time; but when they rested on the old lady's face,under the big, frilled cap, she burst out sharply:
"Is that your Gran?"
"She isn't my Gran," replied Peletiah.
"No, she isn't," echoed Ezekiel.
"Well, is she Gran?" demanded Rachel impatiently--"anybody's Gran--justGran? Say, is she?"
"No, she isn't Gran," said Peletiah, shaking his head of stiff, light hair.
"Oh, dear me! you said so," cried Rachel, in a high, disappointed key."Oh, dear, dear, dear! I wish she was." And, terribly afraid she was goingto cry, she marche
d off to the little-paned window, and twisted her fingersinto knots.
"She's Grandma," said Ezekiel, walking over to her and peering around herside.
"Oh, then she is," cried Rachel, springing around. "Say"--she seized hisjacket--"she's my Gran, an'----"
"Grandma, I said," repeated Ezekiel.
"Yes, yes, Grandma; well, she's mine."
"She's all our Grandma," said Ezekiel decidedly.
"Yes, yes, but she's mine, too," declared Rachel, bobbing her headdecidedly. "She shall be my Gran--Grandma. I shall just take her, sothere!"
"You musn't take her away," said Ezekiel, in alarm.
"I ain't goin' to; I don't want to. I'm goin' to live here always an'forever," declared Rachel firmly.
Ezekiel smiled at that in great satisfaction, and the matter being settled,Rachel skipped over to the old lady's chair, and looked steadily down intothe wrinkled face.
"Go out and put the butter-pat somewhere," she said to Peletiah, who stillheld it in his hand, waiting to present it.
"I must give it to Grandma," he said; "my mother told me to."
"Well, you can't while she's asleep," said Rachel quickly, "so you put itsomewhere--anywhere--and when she wakes up, why, you can give it to her. Dohurry--and you go and help him."
So the two boys walked off to find a place in the buttery, and quick aslightning Rachel leaned over and set a kiss on the wrinkled old cheek. IfGrandma couldn't hear, she was very quick at feeling.
"Why!" She stirred uneasily in her chair, and opened her eyes.
"Who is this?" she asked, staring at the strange little girl, for althoughthe parson's wife had told her all about the new member of the family tocome that day, Grandma was so bewildered by being suddenly aroused from hersleep, she had forgotten all about it. "Hey, who is it?"
Peletiah, not having had time to put down the butter-pat, now came up andpresented it with all due formality.
"But who is this little gal?" asked Grandma, as he set the butter-pat inthe middle of the checked apron over her lap.
"She's Rachel," said Peletiah.
"Eh? What?" Grandma held a shaking hand behind her ear. "Speak a littlelouder, Peletiah; you know I'm a-growin' hard o' hearin', just a grain."
"Rachel," shouted Peletiah, as he stood still in his tracks in front ofher.
"Ain't well! Oh, dear me!" exclaimed Grandma, in a tone of great concern."What a pity!" and she turned and regarded the stranger with anxiety.
"Oh, dear me! You get away, Peletiah," commanded Rachel, brushing himaside. So Peletiah, very glad to be released, moved off, and Rachel,putting her mouth to the nodding cap-border, said very distinctly:
"Mrs. Fisher sent me to live at the minister's; I'm Rachel."
"Oh, my land o' Goshen!" exclaimed Grandma Bascom, lifting both hands indelight. "Why, I can hear you splendid. You see, I'm only a grain deaf. An'so you're that little gal. Well, I'm glad you've come, you pretty creeter,you!"
Five Little Peppers and their Friends Page 11
