"That"ll give you two more dresses, with plenty for new sleeves, and to patch and let down with, an" be more economical."
"I know. But Mr. Watson says he"ll take back part of it, and let us have pink and blue for the same price."
"Did you ask him?"
"Yes"m."
"It was none o" your business."
"I was helping Emma Jane choose ap.r.o.ns, and didn"t think you"d mind which color I had. Pink keeps clean just as nice as brown, and Mr.
Watson says it"ll boil without fading."
"Mr. Watson "s a splendid judge of washing, I guess. I don"t approve of children being rigged out in fancy colors, but I"ll see what your aunt Jane thinks."
"I think it would be all right to let Rebecca have one pink and one blue gingham," said Jane. "A child gets tired of sewing on one color.
It"s only natural she should long for a change; besides she"d look like a charity child always wearing the same brown with a white ap.r.o.n. And it"s dreadful unbecoming to her!"
""Handsome is as handsome does," say I. Rebecca never"ll come to grief along of her beauty, that"s certain, and there"s no use in humoring her to think about her looks. I believe she"s vain as a peac.o.c.k now, without anything to be vain of."
"She"s young and attracted to bright things--that"s all. I remember well enough how I felt at her age."
"You was considerable of a fool at her age, Jane."
"Yes, I was, thank the Lord! I only wish I"d known how to take a little of my foolishness along with me, as some folks do, to brighten my declining years."
There finally was a pink gingham, and when it was nicely finished, aunt Jane gave Rebecca a delightful surprise. She showed her how to make a pretty tr.i.m.m.i.n.g of narrow white linen tape, by folding it in pointed shapes and sewing it down very flat with neat little st.i.tches.
"It"ll be good fancy work for you, Rebecca; for your aunt Miranda won"t like to see you always reading in the long winter evenings. Now if you think you can baste two rows of white tape round the bottom of your pink skirt and keep it straight by the checks, I"ll st.i.tch them on for you and trim the waist and sleeves with pointed tape-tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, so the dress"ll be real pretty for second best."
Rebecca"s joy knew no bounds. "I"ll baste like a house afire!" she exclaimed. "It"s a thousand yards round that skirt, as well I know, having hemmed it; but I could sew pretty tr.i.m.m.i.n.g on if it was from here to Milltown. Oh! do you think aunt Mirandy"ll ever let me go to Milltown with Mr. Cobb? He"s asked me again, you know; but one Sat.u.r.day I had to pick strawberries, and another it rained, and I don"t think she really approves of my going. It"s TWENTY-NINE minutes past four, aunt Jane, and Alice Robinson has been sitting under the currant bushes for a long time waiting for me. Can I go and play?"
"Yes, you may go, and you"d better run as far as you can out behind the barn, so "t your noise won"t distract your aunt Mirandy. I see Susan Simpson and the twins and Emma Jane Perkins hiding behind the fence."
Rebecca leaped off the porch, s.n.a.t.c.hed Alice Robinson from under the currant bushes, and, what was much more difficult, succeeded, by means of a complicated system of signals, in getting Emma Jane away from the Simpson party and giving them the slip altogether. They were much too small for certain pleasurable activities planned for that afternoon; but they were not to be despised, for they had the most fascinating dooryard in the village. In it, in bewildering confusion, were old sleighs, pungs, horse rakes, hogsheads, settees without backs, bed-steads without heads, in all stages of disability, and never the same on two consecutive days. Mrs. Simpson was seldom at home, and even when she was, had little concern as to what happened on the premises. A favorite diversion was to make the house into a fort, gallantly held by a handful of American soldiers against a besieging force of the British army. Great care was used in apportioning the parts, for there was no disposition to let anybody win but the Americans. Seesaw Simpson was usually made commander-in-chief of the British army, and a limp and uncertain one he was, capable, with his contradictory orders and his fondness for the extreme rear, of leading any regiment to an inglorious death. Sometimes the long-suffering house was a log hut, and the brave settlers defeated a band of hostile Indians, or occasionally were ma.s.sacred by them; but in either case the Simpson house looked, to quote a Riverboro expression, "as if the devil had been having an auction in it."
Next to this uncommonly interesting playground, as a field of action, came, in the children"s opinion, the "secret spot." There was a velvety stretch of ground in the Sawyer pasture which was full of fascinating hollows and hillocks, as well as verdant levels, on which to build houses. A group of trees concealed it somewhat from view and flung a grateful shade over the dwellings erected there. It had been hard though sweet labor to take armfuls of "stickins" and "cutrounds" from the mill to this secluded spot, and that it had been done mostly after supper in the dusk of the evenings gave it a still greater flavor. Here in soap boxes hidden among the trees were stored all their treasures: wee baskets and plates and cups made of burdock b.a.l.l.s, bits of broken china for parties, dolls, soon to be outgrown, but serving well as characters in all sorts of romances enacted there,--deaths, funerals, weddings, christenings. A tall, square house of stickins was to be built round Rebecca this afternoon, and she was to be Charlotte Corday leaning against the bars of her prison.
It was a wonderful experience standing inside the building with Emma Jane"s ap.r.o.n wound about her hair; wonderful to feel that when she leaned her head against the bars they seemed to turn to cold iron; that her eyes were no longer Rebecca Randall"s but mirrored something of Charlotte Corday"s hapless woe.
"Ain"t it lovely?" sighed the humble twain, who had done most of the labor, but who generously admired the result.
"I hate to have to take it down," said Alice, "it"s been such a sight of work."
"If you think you could move up some stones and just take off the top rows, I could step out over," suggested Charlotte Corday. "Then leave the stones, and you two can step down into the prison to-morrow and be the two little princes in the Tower, and I can murder you."
"What princes? What tower?" asked Alice and Emma Jane in one breath.
"Tell us about them."
"Not now, it"s my supper time." (Rebecca was a somewhat firm disciplinarian.)
"It would be elergant being murdered by you," said Emma Jane loyally, "though you are awful real when you murder; or we could have Elijah and Elisha for the princes."
"They"d yell when they was murdered," objected Alice; "you know how silly they are at plays, all except Clara Belle. Besides if we once show them this secret place, they"ll play in it all the time, and perhaps they"d steal things, like their father."
"They needn"t steal just because their father does," argued Rebecca; "and don"t you ever talk about it before them if you want to be my secret, partic"lar friends. My mother tells me never to say hard things about people"s own folks to their face. She says n.o.body can bear it, and it"s wicked to shame them for what isn"t their fault. Remember Minnie Smellie!"
Well, they had no difficulty in recalling that dramatic episode, for it had occurred only a few days before; and a version of it that would have melted the stoniest heart had been presented to every girl in the village by Minnie Smellie herself, who, though it was Rebecca and not she who came off victorious in the b.l.o.o.d.y battle of words, nursed her resentment and intended to have revenge.
VII
RIVERBORO SECRETS
Mr. Simpson spent little time with his family, owing to certain awkward methods of horse-trading, or the "swapping" of farm implements and vehicles of various kinds,--operations in which his customers were never long suited. After every successful trade he generally pa.s.sed a longer or shorter term in jail; for when a poor man without goods or chattels has the inveterate habit of swapping, it follows naturally that he must have something to swap; and having nothing of his own, it follows still more naturally that he must swap something belonging to his neighbors.
Mr. Simpson was absent from the home circle for the moment because he had exchanged the Widow Rideout"s sleigh for Joseph Goodwin"s plough.
Goodwin had lately moved to North Edgewood and had never before met the urbane and persuasive Mr. Simpson. The Goodwin plough Mr. Simpson speedily bartered with a man "over Wareham way," and got in exchange for it an old horse which his owner did not need, as he was leaving town to visit his daughter for a year, Simpson fattened the aged animal, keeping him for several weeks (at early morning or after nightfall) in one neighbor"s pasture after another, and then exchanged him with a Milltown man for a top buggy. It was at this juncture that the Widow Rideout missed her sleigh from the old carriage house. She had not used it for fifteen years and might not sit in it for another fifteen, but it was property, and she did not intend to part with it without a struggle. Such is the suspicious nature of the village mind that the moment she discovered her loss her thought at once reverted to Abner Simpson. So complicated, however, was the nature of this particular business transaction, and so tortuous the paths of its progress (partly owing to the complete disappearance of the owner of the horse, who had gone to the West and left no address), that it took the sheriff many weeks to prove Mr. Simpson"s guilt to the town"s and to the Widow Rideout"s satisfaction. Abner himself avowed his complete innocence, and told the neighbors how a red-haired man with a hare lip and a pepper-and-salt suit of clothes had called him up one morning about daylight and offered to swap him a good sleigh for an old cider press he had layin" out in the dooryard. The bargain was struck, and he, Abner, had paid the hare-lipped stranger four dollars and seventy-five cents to boot; whereupon the mysterious one set down the sleigh, took the press on his cart, and vanished up the road, never to be seen or heard from afterwards.
"If I could once ketch that consarned old thief," exclaimed Abner righteously, "I"d make him dance,--workin" off a stolen sleigh on me an" takin" away my good money an" cider press, to say nothin" o" my character!"
"You"ll never ketch him, Ab," responded the sheriff. "He"s cut off the same piece o" goods as that there cider press and that there character and that there four-seventy-five o" yourn; n.o.body ever see any of "em but you, and you"ll never see "em again!"
Mrs. Simpson, who was decidedly Abner"s better half, took in washing and went out to do days" cleaning, and the town helped in the feeding and clothing of the children. George, a lanky boy of fourteen, did ch.o.r.es on neighboring farms, and the others, Samuel, Clara Belle, Susan, Elijah, and Elisha, went to school, when sufficiently clothed and not otherwise more pleasantly engaged.
There were no secrets in the villages that lay along the banks of Pleasant River. There were many hard-working people among the inhabitants, but life wore away so quietly and slowly that there was a good deal of spare time for conversation,--under the trees at noon in the hayfield; hanging over the bridge at nightfall; seated about the stove in the village store of an evening. These meeting-places furnished ample ground for the discussion of current events as viewed by the masculine eye, while choir rehearsals, sewing societies, reading circles, church picnics, and the like, gave opportunity for the expression of feminine opinion. All this was taken very much for granted, as a rule, but now and then some supersensitive person made violent objections to it, as a theory of life.
Delia Weeks, for example, was a maiden lady who did dressmaking in a small way; she fell ill, and although attended by all the physicians in the neighborhood, was sinking slowly into a decline when her cousin Cyrus asked her to come and keep house for him in Lewiston. She went, and in a year grew into a robust, hearty, cheerful woman. Returning to Riverboro on a brief visit, she was asked if she meant to end her days away from home.
"I do most certainly, if I can get any other place to stay," she responded candidly. "I was bein" worn to a shadder here, tryin" to keep my little secrets to myself, an" never succeedin". First they had it I wanted to marry the minister, and when he took a wife in Standish I was known to be disappointed. Then for five or six years they suspicioned I was tryin" for a place to teach school, and when I gave up hope, an"
took to dressmakin", they pitied me and sympathized with me for that.
When father died I was bound I"d never let anybody know how I was left, for that spites "em worse than anything else; but there"s ways o"
findin" out, an" they found out, hard as I fought "em! Then there was my brother James that went to Arizona when he was sixteen. I gave good news of him for thirty years runnin", but aunt Achsy Tarbox had a ferretin" cousin that went out to Tombstone for her health, and she wrote to a postmaster, or to some kind of a town authority, and found Jim and wrote back aunt Achsy all about him and just how unfortunate he"d been. They knew when I had my teeth out and a new set made; they knew when I put on a false front-piece; they knew when the fruit peddler asked me to be his third wife--I never told "em, an" you can be sure HE never did, but they don"t NEED to be told in this village; they have nothin" to do but guess, an" they"ll guess right every time. I was all tuckered out tryin" to mislead "em and deceive "em and sidetrack "em; but the minute I got where I wa"n"t put under a microscope by day an" a telescope by night and had myself TO myself without sayin" "By your leave," I begun to pick up. Cousin Cyrus is an old man an"
consid"able trouble, but he thinks my teeth are handsome an" says I"ve got a splendid suit of hair. There ain"t a person in Lewiston that knows about the minister, or father"s will, or Jim"s doin"s, or the fruit peddler; an" if they should find out, they wouldn"t care, an"
they couldn"t remember; for Lewiston "s a busy place, thanks be!"
Miss Delia Weeks may have exaggerated matters somewhat, but it is easy to imagine that Rebecca as well as all the other Riverboro children had heard the particulars of the Widow Rideout"s missing sleigh and Abner Simpson"s supposed connection with it.
There is not an excess of delicacy or chivalry in the ordinary country school, and several choice conundrums and bits of verse dealing with the Simpson affair were bandied about among the scholars, uttered always, be it said to their credit, in undertones, and when the Simpson children were not in the group.
Rebecca Randall was of precisely the same stock, and had had much the same a.s.sociations as her schoolmates, so one can hardly say why she so hated mean gossip and so instinctively held herself aloof from it.
Among the Riverboro girls of her own age was a certain excellently named Minnie Smellie, who was anything but a general favorite. She was a ferret-eyed, blond-haired, spindle-legged little creature whose mind was a cross between that of a parrot and a sheep. She was suspected of copying answers from other girls" slates, although she had never been caught in the act. Rebecca and Emma Jane always knew when she had brought a tart or a triangle of layer cake with her school luncheon, because on those days she forsook the cheerful society of her mates and sought a safe solitude in the woods, returning after a time with a jocund smile on her smug face.
After one of these private luncheons Rebecca had been tempted beyond her strength, and when Minnie took her seat among them asked, "Is your headache better, Minnie? Let me wipe off that strawberry jam over your mouth."
There was no jam there as a matter of fact, but the guilty Minnie"s handkerchief went to her crimson face in a flash.
Rebecca confessed to Emma Jane that same afternoon that she felt ashamed of her prank. "I do hate her ways," she exclaimed, "but I"m sorry I let her know we "spected her; and so to make up, I gave her that little piece of broken coral I keep in my bead purse; you know the one?"