A Little Girl in Old Pittsburg

by Amanda M. Douglas

  CHAPTER IV

  OLD PITTSBURG

  Spring came with a rush. Barbe Carrick glanced out of the south windowone morning and called her little girl.

  "Look, Dilly, the daffodils are opening and they make the gardenfairly joyous. They are like the sun."

  There was a long border of them. The green stalks stood up stiff likeguards and the yellow heads nodded as if they were laughing. Wildhyacinths were showing color as well, but these were the first save afew snowdrops and violets one found in woody nooks. Birds were singingand flying to and fro in search of nesting places.

  Pittsburg was not much of a town then, but its surroundings werebeautiful. The two rivers were rushing and foaming now in their wildhaste to pour their overflow into the Ohio. The houses had begun tostretch out beyond the Fort. Colonel Campbell some years before hadlaid out several streets, the nucleus of the coming city. Then ThomasHickory completed the plans and new houses were in the course oferection. Still the great business of the time was in the hands ofthe Indian traders that the French had found profitable. Beyond werefarms, and the great tract, afterward to be Allegheny City, lay infields and woods.

  A post road had been ordered by the government between Philadelphiaand the town. And there were plans for a paper. For now most peoplewere convinced that the war was at an end, and the Southern cities hadbeen turned over to the Continental government.

  There was a brisk, stirring air pervading the place. Business projectswere discussed. Iron had been discovered, in fact the whole land wasrich in minerals. The traders were bringing down their furs. It hadnot been a specially cold winter and in this latitude the spring cameearlier.

  "Oh, it's beautiful!" The child clapped her hands. "Can't I bring insome of them?"

  "Oh, yes. But pick only the largest ones. Leave the others on togrow."

  She came in with an apron full. "Some are for grandfather," she said.

  "Yes, fill this bowl and put it on his table."

  She had just finished when he came out. He was always immaculate, andhis hair had the silvery tint. His daughter saw that it was alwaysneatly brushed and the queue tied with a black ribbon. He was growinga trifle thinner and weaker.

  "Oh, little one," he cried, "did you get a posy for me? Is it yourbirthday?" and he stooped to kiss the golden hair, then the rosy lips.

  "Her birthday will not be until next week," said her mother.

  "I had forgotten. I am almost a hundred. And she is----"

  "Seven."

  "And when I get to be a hundred I'll have a little table like yours,and read out of the Bible, and we'll talk over things that happenedwhen we were children."

  He laughed and patted her shoulder. "I shall not be here," he saidslowly.

  "Oh, where are you going? I do not want you to go away," and she drewan apprehensive breath.

  "We do not always stay in one place. I came from France years andyears ago. And I shall go to another country, heaven. It is alwayssummer there."

  "Can't you take me?" with an eager, upward look.

  "Mother wants you. And you are to be a little old lady and sit in thischair."

  "And wear a cap like gran'mere? And have two little creases in myforehead, so?"

  She tried to make them but they were not much of a success, and thesmile returned. "Now let us read."

  She took her seat on the arm of the chair. Gran'mere came in andbusied herself about breakfast. The reading was from one of the minorprophets. Dilly did not understand it very well but she could conversein the language quite fluently. Her mother had taught her to spell andread English. Girls were not expected to have much education in thosedays; indeed, here they grew up mostly like the flowers of the field.While the little girls to the eastward were working samplers, sewinglong overhand seams, hemming, and doing beautiful darning, theselittle girls ran about, romped, helped to take care of the nextyounger baby, grew up and married, no one could have told just how.

  After breakfast when the sun was warm and bright grandfather startedfor his walk. He always felt stronger in the morning. Sometimes Barbewent, often only Dilly. He liked the child's prattle. He liked, too,the way the denizens of the woods came to her, and the birds. True shealways had some bread to crumble and she talked in her low sunnyvoice. Now and then a squirrel would run up her shoulder, watch herwith beady eyes that almost laughed and whisk his feathery tail about.

  "It does seem as if they ought to talk," she often said.

  "They do in their language, only we can't understand them; at least wedo in part. Doesn't he say in his fashion, 'I'm glad to see you? Haveyou any crumbs to-day.' And how one of them scolded when another ranoff with that piece you dropped."

  "That was funny, wasn't it!" and she laughed. They were sitting on afallen log in the warm sunshine. Bees were out also, buzzing and nodoubt grumbling a little because there were not more sweet flowers inbloom. And the birds sang and whistled in great glee.

  They returned from their walk presently through the woods, where shegathered some curious wild flowers. Then they came out by the river,foaming and tumbling about as if it longed to overflow its banks. Nowand then a rough kind of boat came down laden with stores of somekind, but there was no hurry visible anywhere.

  About sixteen years before the Indians had ceded all the lands aboutPittsburg to the Colonies. The six nations assembled with theirprincipal chiefs and warriors and gave the strongest assurance oftreaty keeping, which after all were not well kept, as usual. But theyhad retreated to better hunting grounds and for some time had madelittle trouble, though many friendly Indians remained.

  The wanderers came out to the town proper. Streets were beingsurveyed, straightened, new ones laid out. There were about a hundredhouses ranged round the Fort, but they had begun to spread outside.The disputes with the Pitt family, who had held the charter ofPennsylvania, had been mostly settled and grants of land given to manyof the returned soldiers in lieu of the money the Colonial governmentcould not pay. Pittsburg now belonged to the State, and a project hadbeen broached to make it the county seat.

  Grandfather looked very tired and pale as he came in and went straightto his chair. His daughter took his hat and cane.

  "I did not mean to go so far. I wanted to look at the spot where I hadburied my money;" with a little hollow laugh.

  "Did you bury some money?" asked Daffodil, with eager curiosity."Can't you dig it up again?"

  "No, dear; it has to stay there for years. It may be dug up in yourtime, but I shall not need it."

  She looked puzzled.

  "You must have a cup of tea," said Mrs. Bradin, and immediately sheset about it. Grandfather leaned back in his chair and closed hiseyes. Dilly espied her mother in the adjoining room and went thitherto exploit the splendid time with the squirrels and show the flowersshe had gathered. Then she stood rather wistfully.

  "Well?" said her mother in a tone of inquiry.

  "Grandfather went to look at the money he had buried, but he couldn'tfind it. Do you suppose some one has taken it away?"

  "Buried?" She seemed mystified a moment, then smiled. "It wasn't as webury things. A long time ago when the French held the Fort and seemedlikely to keep a good part of the country grandfather bought a largetract of land. Then the French were driven out by the English and theyin their turn by the Colonists. But the land is there and some day themoney may come out of it. Grandad thinks he might as well have thrownit into the river. But he has never wanted for anything, and it wouldlikely have been spent for something else. It's odd grandfather shouldhave said that to-day. He seldom mentions it. He was quite troubledover it at first--when _I_ was a little girl."

  "Oh," returned Daffodil, relieved, though she did not understand thematter.

  "Go and put your flowers in water;" said her mother.

  Grandfather was soundly asleep and did not wake until dinner was onthe table. Then he scarcely tasted it.

  "You must not take such long walks," his daughter said. "You cannotstand it any more."

&nbs
p; "No, I am getting old," rather sadly. "When your mother died I feltthat I didn't want to live, and now I am content to go on in thislovely world until the Lord calls me home. I thought once I shouldround out the century. There have been many changes in the hundredyears."

  And though he had been on exile for his faith's sake, though he hadseen the blunders and sins of his country's rulers, he could not helpreverting to the grand old dream of the magnificent empire of NewFrance that would never come to pass now. How they had let all theadvantages slip through their fingers that had grasped only at thewildest pleasures and dissipations.

  Barbe went out in the sunshine to garden a little. She was so fond ofgrowing and blooming things. And they yielded such a beautiful return.She sang snatches of songs, sometimes in French, sometimes the gay orsad Scotch ditties. Dilly went over to see Norah, all the men were outnow at the spring work. Norah was spinning on the big wheel, but shecould raise her voice above its whir and to-day she was full of merrylegends. Dilly had brought the cat and Judy never objected to beingheld.

  "I'm going to be seven years old," she said in a pause. "And when willI be almost a hundred like great-grandfather?"

  "Oh, you've gone only a little bit toward it," laughed Norah. "Why I'mnot half way there myself. And I don't want to be. I'd like never togrow any older. But you shouldn't stop at seven. You haven't come tothe cream of life. There's more fun at seventeen and that's ten yearsaway. But you're big enough to have a party."

  "What is a party like?"

  "Oh, you little innocent! A party is a lot of people together wholaugh and tell stories and have a good time and something to eat anddrink. And you must have a cake with seven candles around it."

  "What are the candles for?"

  "To light your way;" laughing. "No, to tell how many years you havelived. I'll make the cake, and the candles too. They'll have to bedips for I haven't any small mould. Don't you remember how your motherand gran'mere made candles last fall? And I haven't a bit of waxmyrtle. Oh, I can melt up two or three of mine. They are more fragrantthan tallow. Yes, you shall have a party. I'll talk to your motherabout it."

  Dilly was all interest and excitement. Her mother agreed at once. Amodern little girl would have refused such a party. For there would beall grown people. Barbe Carrick had been a little exclusive with herchild and she had not felt the need of playmates. Then they wererather out of the range of the Fort people as the somewhat crowdedsettlement was called. There were no schools nor Sunday-schools forlittle folks. Sunday was not very strictly kept. The schoolmaster readprayers, the litany, and a sermon from some volume on Sunday morningand the rest of the day was given over to social life. There were afew Friends who held their meeting in each other's houses; some of theAcadians had found their way thither, and now and then a priest camewho took in the more devout of the Irish population. But there was alarge liberty of opinion.

  Norah would have the house decorated with blossoming shrubs and shemade a wreath for the little girl to wear, for a few neighbors wereasked in. James Langdale had been in Bernard's company, and Mrs.Langdale and Barbe had exchanged many a fear and a few hopes. Therewere two Langdale boys, but of course they were not eligible for agirl's party.

  They had some idea of the fitness of things even then. Barbe andBernard Carrick were at the head of the table with Daffodil on hermother's side and great-grandfather on the other. At the foot weregrandfather and grandmother Bradin and on one side grandfather Carrickand Norah, fresh and smiling and full of gayety in the pretty lavendercrepe she had worn at her own wedding and that she saved now for highoccasions, with her sapphire earrings and brooch that had come down toher through several generations and had been worn at Court and dancedwith royalty.

  It was what we would call a high tea, a bountiful spread, and therewas much jesting and joking. I think they didn't mind the little girlvery much. She was perched up higher than usual and wore a white robethat was kept as a sort of heirloom when she outgrew it, for it waslace and needlework of her mother's making.

  Jetty, a half Indian woman, waited on the table, and when the meatswere taken out and the dessert brought in there was Daffodil'sbeautiful cake with the seven candles all alight. She thrilled withthe pleasure. They passed around other cakes and home-made wine anddrank great-grandfather's health and wished him many more years.Grandfather Carrick drank to Daffodil's future, wishing her long lifeand a happy marriage with great prosperity.

  Then her mother helped her up on her feet. She felt very bashful witheverybody's eyes upon her and almost forgot the little speech Norahhad taught her, but her mother prompted and she replied amid greatapplause. The toasting went all around, then her candles were put outand she had to cut the cake, which she did with a silver knife thathad a Louis stamp upon it. The cake was declared excellent.

  "I'm going to take my piece home to the boys," declared Mrs. Langdale."Husband, give me a taste of yours."

  After that there was more merriment. Then Jetty took off the things,the tables were pushed back, and Norah and grandfather Carrick danceda jig. And it _was_ dancing such as you seldom see nowadays. Norahcould have made her fortune on a modern stage.

  After Daffodil's party broke up the men went over to grandfatherCarrick's, where they made a night of it, as was the fashion of thetimes. But Dilly and great-grandfather wanted to go to bed.

  "A party is just beautiful!" declared Dilly. "Couldn't I have anothersometime!"

  "Oh, you are getting spoiled," laughed her mother. "Let me see--whenyou are ten, maybe."

  So many new thoughts came to Daffodil that she was surprised atherself. Of course it was being seven years old. She began to sew alittle and knit and make lace over a cushion. Very simple at first,and oh, the mistakes! Then there was gardening. How curious to plant adainty little seed and have it poke a green head out of the ground.But funniest of all were the beans coming up with their shells ontheir heads; she was sure at first they must be upside down.

  The men were very busy about the new town and sometimes they almostquarreled over the improvements. It was taking on quite a changedaspect. They were giving names to the streets and building much betterhouses of hewn logs, making plaster walls. But glass was very dear andfor a long while they could only put in a few windows. The rest wereopenings, closed by shutters at night or in a storm.

  The paper was a great source of interest, the Pittsburg _Gazette_.What they did without any telegraph and depending only on post horsespuzzles us now. And the General Government had a hard task on itshands reconciling the different states and trying ways of gettingmoney.

  "They'll see, an' a sorry time they'll have of it," predicted SandyCarrick. "It's settin' up housekeeping for yourself on nothing. Th'ould country's paid our bills and sent us what we needed an' they'llbe glad to go back, mark my words now."

  Bernard took his father's talk in good part. His knowledge was so muchwider. There would be hard times, but there were brave men to meet it.Sometimes he wished they could go to a big city, but it would be cruelto tear Barbe away from the household when she was its light.

  Daffodil had another wonderful pleasure. The old English people keptup some of their customs and they had a gay time over the Maypole. Itwas like a grand picnic. They had a smooth grassy place at the edge ofthe woods and the pole was a young tree that was denuded of its limbsas it stood in just the right place. They could not get ribbon, butstrips of dyed muslin answered for the streamers. There were twofiddlers, there were gay choruses. One song grandad sang with greatgusto. Captious as he could be when people did not agree with him, hehad a fund of Irish drollery.

  "Come, lasses and lads, get leave of your dads And away to the Maypole hie; For every fair has a sweetheart there, And the fiddlers standing by, Then trip it, trip it, up and down."

  And grandad did trip it merrily. It was fortunate for Norah that shewas not jealous, but she enjoyed a bit of fun, and her arch smile, themerry flash of her eyes, with the color coming and going, made hervery attractive. Di
lly wished she was big enough to dance--her littlefeet kept patting the turf and keeping time with the fiddle.

  "You're Daffodil Carrick, aren't you?" said a boyish voice almost inher ear.

  She turned, startled, and her eyes were so lovely they fairlytransfixed him, and she stared unconsciously.

  She did not speak but nodded.

  "I'm Ned Langdale. My mother was at your party and brought us home apiece of your birthday cake. She said you were seven and as pretty asa fairy, and I'm fourteen, just twice as old."

  "Oh," she said, "that's funny. And will you always be twice as old."

  "Why--no. You can never be that but just once in your life--I meanwith that special person. And when you were twenty I wouldn't like tobe forty."

  "Is that so very old? Great-grandfather is ninety-seven."

  "Whew! That is old! But you see now I am seven years older than youand that is the way it will be all our lives. Do you go to school?There's a lady in Water Street who takes little girls, though she'sonly just begun."

  "No; but I can spell, and read, and do little sums. And read inFrench."

  "Oh, that's great! I'm studying Latin, but it's awful tough. Isn't itgay here? Can you dance?"

  "I never tried with music."

  "I can, just a little. Oh, say, it's splendid! If I knew just how I'dask you to try it with me. It seems so easy when you look at them.It's so and so----" moving his hands. "Yes, do try. You whirlround----"

  And without any real intention they started. It was like floating.Yes, she had done it when she thought of the little people dancing onthe green.

  "Oh," with a soft laugh of protest, and all out of breath."It's--delicious! I didn't think I could do it for fair. I sometimesmake believe. I'll get Norry to teach me."

  "Norry? Who?"

  "Why----" she flushed daintily. "That's grandad's wife."

  "Then she's your grandmother."

  "Oh, no, she isn't. You see the other wife died; she was father'smother and he married Norah. We all call her Norry."

  "She doesn't look old enough to be any one's grandmother. And isn'tshe gay? She has such a merry face, pretty too."

  "And she sings such gay songs. She knows all about the fairies, too,and she's seen them at home, that's Ireland. Why don't they come toAmerica?"

  "Maybe the witches drive them away. Witches are just awful! Come; letus try again."

  He placed his arm around her and they whirled off to the fascinatingmusic. Is there anything like a fiddle to put the spirit of delight inone's feet? Other couples were floating round or doing jigs with fancysteps and laughter. Now and then a bright, mirthful young lad ran offwith some girl and left the first partner in the lurch, at which therewas a shout.

  "Oh, I wish you were my sister! Wouldn't we have fun! I have only onebrother, Archie, and he's stupid as an owl--well, I mean he hasn't anyfun in him, and he'd dance about like a cow. Oh, there's your--well,it would be queer to call her grandmother."

  They both laughed at that.

  "I wondered where you were, Daffodil. Isn't this Ned Langdale? I knowyour mother. Dilly, I think I had better take you home. I promisedyour mother I wouldn't keep you very long."

  "Oh, no; let me stay just a little while. It's all so gay and theydance so--so--isn't it like a fairy ring?"

  Norah laughed. "Well, I'll take another round, then we must go. Youkeep her just about here, then I shall know where to find you. Aren'tyou tired, though?"

  "Oh, not a bit."

  Her eyes shone like stars and there was a most delicious color in hercheeks like the dainty first ripeness of a peach.

  "There's a tree over there--go and sit down. I won't be long."

  The great tree had been cut down and there were no end of chips lyingabout.

  "Now, if I was home I'd get a basket and gather them up," said Ned."Mother thinks they make such a splendid fire. It's odd that ourfathers were out in the war together, and are real good friends. Imean to be a soldier."

  "But if there isn't any war?"

  "There'll be Indian wars until they are all cleared out. They're atreacherous lot and never keep their word. And governments need anarmy all the time."

  "But it's dreadful to fight and kill each other."

  "Still you have to. History is full of wars. And there were so many inthe Bible times. The children of Israel had to fight so many people toget the land of Canaan that the Lord promised them. And we've beenfighting for a country--that is, our fathers have--and now we'vegained it. Oh, wasn't it splendid when Cornwallis surrendered. Did youhear Kirsty that morning? I thought the place was on fire."

  That brought grandad's face before her and she laughed.

  "I didn't know what it meant nor who Cornwallis was. I'm only a littlegirl----"

  "But you're awful smart to read French. Can you talk it?"

  "Oh, yes. Grandmother Bradin was French. They went to Ireland and thencame to America, and since father has been away they have talked it agreat deal more, so you see I know both."

  "Mother said your party was so nice. And the old grandfather was likea picture. When they drank your health you had to reply."

  Daffodil's face was scarlet.

  "I almost forgot. Norry made me say it over and over, but motherwhispered and then I remembered."

  "Oh, I wish I could have seen you. And you are so little and pretty.I'd like to see your French grandfather. Could I come some time?"

  "Why, yes. And you'd like Norry so much."

  "Do they live with you?"

  "Oh, no; but it's only a little way off----"

  Norah came flying back. "Come," she said hurriedly. "Grandad's had afit about you because I did not have you tucked under my wing. Why, Ishould have dropped you while I was dancing. Glad you've taken suchgood care of her;" and Norah nodded to him as she took the child bythe hand. "Don't say a word about the lad, or grandad will show hisclaws and scratch all round."

  He was waiting where a path turned off.

  "Well, Yellow-top," he began, "so you're not lost. Had a good time?"

  "I was watching them dance. And they were so merry. Oh it was fine!"

  "No place for a little youngster like you. Norry was crazy to think ofit."

  "I saw some other little children----"

  "Yes, rabble;" and the nose went up.

  "Grandad, don't be cross. I had such a nice time;" and she slipped hersmall hand in his.

  "You're 'most a witch, you cunning little thing;" and he gave her asqueeze. "Now, Norry, take her to her mother's arms before you let hergo."

  They turned off, and grandad, who had not had his fun out, went back.

  "It was all splendid, Norry. I want you to show me how to dance andteach me some songs--some of those gay and pretty ones."

  "Well, well! you _are_ getting along. Daffodil Carrick, you'll breakhearts some day;" and Norah laughed.

  She had so much to tell them at home and she spoke of Ned Langdale,but she did not quite like to tell about the dancing, wondering ifthere had been anything wrong in it, and she did not want to haveNorah blamed. She liked the gayety so much. It was rather grave athome, with all grown people. And her mother was not _all_ hers now.Father was very fond of her. And she was coming to like him very much.

  He was pleased that she had such a nice time. He wondered if it wouldnot be well to send her to this school for small children that hadlately been opened. But her mother objected decidedly.

  Oh, how beautiful the summer was with its flowers, and then itsfruits. One Sunday afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Langdale came up with theirson Edward, and Daffodil was glad to see him again. He was a nice,well-behaved lad, and very deferential to great-grandfather. The twosoldiers talked over their battles and the state of the country. Thepreliminaries of peace were under way, but the settlement seemed todrag along. France still stood our friend.

  Daffodil took him out to see the squirrels that came at her call andinspected him with such curious, inquiring eyes that he laughed aboutit.

  "You see they
are not used to boys," she explained.

  The quails were very much at their ease as well, and robins flew andfluttered. Judy never tried to catch them, though sometimes she huntedout in the woods.

  "Ned Langdale is a nice boy," said Dilly's father. "I don't wonderthey are proud of him. His heart is set on being a soldier."

  "I'm glad he isn't my son if that is his bent," Barbe said. "And Ihope we'll hear no more of war."