Begins with a funeral and ends with a feast.
Sorrow is drowned for this time at least.
It fell out that there were _two_ doll funerals the next day.
Beth lost Ariminta, her composition doll, and she went down into the garden early to find her. She looked in Bose"s kennel, but it wasn"t there; then she saw a robin in the path digging worms, and he looked so wise that she followed him to the early harvest apple-tree, and sure enough! there was Ariminta on a lower branch where she had put her the night before. She was very wet, for it had rained, and her wig was quite soaked off. So, filled with remorse, Beth went after the glue-pot.
"I never knew such a mean mother as I am," she said, "I haven"t any thinkery at all, worth mentioning. If your grandmother, my dear, should leave me out, till my hair soaked off--say, sister," she broke off suddenly to ask--"what keeps our hair on?"
Ethelwyn never at a loss for an answer, said promptly, "Dust, child"
"I haven"t any," said Beth, feeling her short brown curls cautiously for fear they would come off.
"It"s small in small persons, and big in big persons," said Ethelwyn, with a patient air of having given much thought to the subject.
"Ho!" said Beth. "Well if Ariminta"s going to be dry for Billy Boy"s funeral, I"ll have to dry her in the oven."
But alas! for Beth"s "thinkery not worth mentioning!" In her haste to get back to prepare herself and family for the funeral, she forgot to tell Aunt Mandy, who was going to make cake, and so started a fire in the stove. When she opened the oven door to put in the cake, she took out Ariminta"s remains, and that is why there were two subjects for a funeral instead of one.
Beth was exceedingly sorry, and wept a few real tears over Ariminta.
"I"m a double widow, and a orphing to-day," she said, "and I don"t reserve a single child to my name!"
Nan and Bobby came to the funeral, and Bobby chose to be undertaker, while Nan insisted on preaching the sermon.
"You preached yesterday," she said to Ethelwyn, who also wished to.
"And you did the day before--"
"I think I ought to," said Beth, "because it"s my fam"ly."
"That"s why you shouldn"t, child," said Nan. "Would my father enjoy preaching my funeral sermon, do you think?" she asked triumphantly. And while they were doubtfully considering this, she began the service.
Beth attired in Aunt Mandy"s large black shawl was very warm and mournful.
The family, especially Billy Boy"s widow, were wrapped in black calico swaddling garments, and looked more stiff than ever, but still smiling.
The remains were in cigar boxes, all but Billy"s wig and eyes which Beth had thoughtfully saved for another doll.
"I am sorry I have to preach this sad sermon," said Nan.
"Might have let me, then," said a voice from the congregation.
"The mourners will please keep quiet," said the preacher sternly, "and if the widow and orphans wouldn"t grin so, I"d be glad. You"d better be thinking about how you"d feel to be buried, and you are likely to be in this family," she continued with an offensive accent on _this_.
"Let"s hurry up, I"m hot," said the chief mourner.
So they went down and buried the boxes, singing "Billy Boy" as a requiem. Bose watched their departure with interest, and dug up both boxes without delay.
Bobby and Nan were invited to stay to lunch, and they accepted with cheerful alacrity.
"I asked mother, for fear you"d ask me if I could stay, and she said yes indeed I _could_, and she"d be glad to have me," said Nan. Bobby yelled his request over the fence, and was told he could stay too.
They had strawberry jam, hot biscuit, fried chicken, and little frosted spice cakes, for which Mandy was famous.
"Just supposing your mother and mine had said no, about this luncheon,"
said Nan to Bobby. "I never could have gotten over the loss of these cakes."
"You"ve eaten four. I"m glad Mandy made a good many," said Beth calmly.
"Why Beth!" said her mother horrified.
"Yessum, she has," continued Beth. "I"ve pa.s.sed them four times, and she took one every time. I"ve had five!" she concluded.
In the afternoon the postman brought them a letter from their Cousin Gladys, who was in Paris with her father and mother. So they all gathered around mother to hear it.
"DEAR E. AND B.," it began.
"This is a silly city.
"They talk like babies. No one can understand them. I"d like them better if they"d talk plain American.
"Their stoves look like granddaddy long legs; they are funny boxes, and when you are cold, they wheel them into your room, and stick the pipe in the hole, and by and by wheel them out. We live in an artist"s house on a street that means a.s.ses street, and our front room is a saloon but not a drinking one, and it runs right through the up-stairs to the skylight. You have to pay for that. Think of charging for daylight! We went to a bird show and I saw a c.o.c.katoo sitting on a pole asleep. "Scratch its back with your parasol, Gladys," said mother, so I did, and it opened one eye when I stopped, and said, "Encore," I was put out to think even the birds didn"t talk American, but when I said so, mother laughed but I don"t see why.
"Write and tell me all the news. No more now from
"Your cousin,
"GLADYS."
"O, it"s thundering!" said Bobby when the letter was finished.
Beth at once climbed into her mother"s lap, as if for protection.
"Are you afraid of a shower, Beth?" asked Nan.
"No,--not--a shower," said Beth, "only I don"t like it when it goes over such a b.u.mp!"
Mother kissed her and sent the others up-stairs to get ready for a show.
"Get up a good one and I"ll pay five cents admission," she said.
"Oh I"ll go too," said Beth, "p"raps when I am busy I won"t notice the noise."
By and by they called Mrs. Rayburn, and she went up-stairs with her sewing, and dropped her nickel into a box, because the whole force was in the show. They were getting ready in the next room, from which was heard much giggling.
Presently the door opened, and in walked Ethelwyn draped in a green denim closet door curtain, and bobbing up and down at every step.
"What is this?" said mother.