Читать книгу A Little Girl of Long Ago; Or, Hannah Ann - Amanda M. Douglas - Страница 9

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The Whitneys had moved in May, to the great regret of everybody. Their family had changed considerably through the winter. Archibald, the younger son, was married, and Mr. Theodore had an opportunity to go abroad for a year.

The widowed cousin in Beach Street was married and went to Baltimore with her two children. That left the two old aunts who owned the house quite alone. Mrs. Whitney and Delia had taken turns staying with them.

The children were all sorry to lose Nora and Pussy Gray.

"People say it's bad luck to move a cat," said Nora, in her sententious fashion; "but we don't believe in it. We've moved him twice already. And you just put a little butter on his feet—"

"Butter!" interrupted the children, amazed.

"Why, yes. That's to make him wash his paws. If you can make him wash and purr in a new place, he will stay. And then you must take him round and show him every room and every closet. And you must come down real often, Hanny. There's the lovely little park, you know. Aunt Boudinot has a key. They're such nice queer old ladies, you'll be sure to like them."

"I don't always like queer people," said Hanny, rather affronted.

"I don't mean cross or ugly. Aunt Clem has soft down all over her cheeks, and such curly white hair. She's awful old and wrinkled and deaf; but Dele can make her hear splendid. Aunt Patty isn't so old. Her real name is Patricia. And Aunt Clem's is Clementine."

The children were not alone in regret. Ben was almost broken-hearted to lose Mr. Theodore. The boy and the man had been such good friends. And Ben was quite resolved, when he had served his apprenticeship, and was twenty-one, to be a newspaper man and travel about the world.

Delia had told them quite a wonderful secret the day she came up after some articles her mother had left. She had written some verses, and had them printed unknown to any one. The. had said they were very fair. And she had actually been paid for a story; and the editor of the paper offered to take others, if they were just as good. She had changed her check for a five-dollar goldpiece, which she carried about with her for luck. She showed it to them; and they felt as if they had seen a mysterious object.

Hanny was greatly amazed, puzzled as well. That a grown man like Mr. Theodore should write grave columns of business matters for a newspaper had not surprised her; she had a vague idea that people who wrote verses and stories must needs be lovely. She pictured them with floating curls and eyes turned heavenward for inspiration. It seemed to her that beautiful thoughts must come from the clouds. Then their voices should be soft, their hands delicate. And the divine something that no dictionary has ever yet found a word to describe must surround them. There was a fair-haired girl at school who had such an exquisite smile. And Daisy Jasper! For her to write verses would be the supreme fitness of things.

But careless, laughing, untidy Dele Whitney, neither fair nor dark and—yes, freckled, though her hair was more brown than red now. And to laugh about it, and toss up her goldpiece and catch it with her other hand!

"Handsome!" Ben ejaculated when Hanny confided some of her difficulties to him in a very timid fashion. "Great people don't need to run to beauty. Still, Mr. Audubon had a lovely face, to my thinking," he added, when he saw how disappointed the little girl looked. "And, oh! see here, Mr. Willis is handsome and Gaylord Clark, and there is that picture of Mrs. Hemans—"

The little girl smiled. Dr. Hoffman had given Margaret a beautifully bound copy of Mrs. Hemans's poems, and the steel engraving in the front was handsome. She had already learned two of the poems, and recited them at school.

"And I don't think Delia so very plain," continued Ben. "You just watch what beautiful curves there are to her lips, and her brown eyes lighten up like morning; and when they are a little sad, you can think that twilight overshadows her. I like to watch them change so. I'm awfully sorry they're gone away. If we could have another big brother, I'd like it to be Mr. Theodore."

Hanny used to hope when she was as big as Margaret she would be as pretty. She didn't think very much about it, only now and then some of the cousins said—

"Hanny doesn't seem to grow a bit. And how very light her hair keeps! You'd hardly think she and Margaret were sisters."

The little girls drew mysteriously closer after Nora went away. They all kept on at the same school, and played together. But dolls and tea parties didn't appear to have quite the zest of a year ago.

One Saturday, Mr. Underhill took Hanny down to Beach Street. They were all delighted to see her, even to Pussy Gray, who came and rubbed against her, and stretched up until he reached her waist, and, oh, how he did purr!

"I think he's been kind of homesick for the children," remarked Nora, gravely, as if she might be quite grown up. "You see he was spoiled among you all. I was a little afraid at first that he would run away."

"Did you put butter on his paws?"

"Oh, yes. He licked them, and then washed his face; but he kept looking around and listening to strange noises. He'd sit on the window-sill and watch the children, and cry to go out. But he doesn't mind now."

He had a chair and a cushion to himself, and looked very contented.

They went upstairs to see the old ladies. Aunt Clem had a round, full, baby-face, for all she was so old. Nora said she was almost ninety. Aunt Patty was twenty years younger, quite brisk and bright, with wonderful blue eyes. They had the front room upstairs, and their bed stood in the alcove. The furnishing looked like some of the country houses. Mrs. Whitney had the back room, and Nora shared it with her. There were great pantries between with shelves and drawers, and in one a large chest, painted green, that Nora said was full of curiosities.

Delia's room was up on the top floor. She had made it oddly pretty. There was a book-case and the small desk. They had used, ever so many pictures, and a pot of flowers on a little table. It had quite an orderly aspect.

"And I have another five-dollar goldpiece," laughed the girl. "I shall be a nabob presently. I ought to invest my money; but it is so comforting to look at, that I hate to let it go."

Then Hanny had to tell them about the new neighbours. They were foreigners, by the name of Levy; and there were four grown people, five little children, and two servants. Mr. Levy was an importer, and they all seemed jolly and noisy, but did not talk English, so there could not be any friendliness, even if they cared.

"We shall soon be a foreign city," declared Mrs. Whitney. "It's astonishing how the foreigners do come in! No wonder people have to move up-town."

Nora and Hanny went over in the Park after dinner. But it wasn't much fun to be alone; so they walked up and down the street, and then Delia took them in the stage down to the Battery. People were promenading in gala attire. Saturday afternoon had quite a holiday aspect. There was a big steamer coming up the bay. The Whitneys had heard twice from Mr. Theodore, who was now going over to Ireland.

"Tell Ben that The. is going to write to him," remarked Dele. "He said so in his last letter."

When they returned to Beach Street, they found Doctor Joe waiting for Hanny. But Ben said afterward he wished he had gone instead, he was quite longing to see them all. And he was delighted with the prospect of a letter.

Whether they would have liked their new neighbours or not, if they could have talked to them, made little difference to Mrs. Underhill. Margaret was to be married in the early autumn. Dr. Hoffman had bought a house not very far from Stephen's, in a new row that was just being finished. He wouldn't like it to stand empty, and he did not want to rent it for a year, and perhaps have the pretty fresh aspect spoiled. And then it was better for a doctor to be married and settled.

Father Underhill sighed. Mrs. Underhill said sharply that she couldn't get ready; but for all that, pieces of muslin came into the house for sheets and pillow-cases, and Margaret was busy as a bee.

Another trouble loomed up before the anxious housekeeper. A sprightly widower belonging to the same church as Martha, came home with her every Sunday night, and class-meeting night, which was Thursday.

"You ought to consider well," counseled Mrs. Underhill. "A stepmother is a sort of thankless office. And two big boys!"

"Well—I'm used to boys. They're not so bad when you know how to take them, and they'll soon be grown up. Then he's quite forehanded. He owns a house in Stanton Street, and has a good business, carting leather in the Swamp."

The Swamp was the centre for tanneries and leather importers and dealers, and it still keeps its name and location.

"I don't know what I shall do!" with a heavy sigh.

"You'll have good long warning. I wouldn't be mean enough to go off and leave you with all this fuss and worry on your hands. And, land sakes! his wife hasn't been dead a year yet. I told him I couldn't think of such a thing before Christmas, anyhow. But he has such a hard time with both grandmothers. One comes and fixes things her way, and gets tired and goes off, and then the other one comes and upsets them. It's just dreadful! I do believe a man needs a second wife more than he did the first. They're poor sticks to get along alone when they've had some one to look after things. And when this affair is over, you'll kind of settle down, and the family seem smaller. Just don't fret a bit, for the whole thing may fall through."

"I shouldn't want you to give up the prospect of a good home," rather reluctantly.

"Well, that's what I've thought about. And I ain't a young girl with years of chances before me. But I'm not going to be caught too easy," and Martha tossed her head.

Ben was very much interested in the war that was going on now in good earnest. The Americans had taken Fort Brown, crossed to the Rio Grande and driven the Mexicans from Matamoras. A plan had been laid to attack Mexico on the Pacific side, and to invade both Old and New Mexico. Santa Anna had escaped from his exile in Cuba, and was longing to reconquer Texas. The whole question seemed in great confusion; but there was a great deal of enthusiasm among some of the younger men, who thought war a rather heroic thing, and they were hurrying off to the scene of action. There was a spirit of adventure and curiosity about the wonderful western coast.

George Horton used to talk all these matters over with Ben, when he came down on his occasional visits. He was a fine big fellow now, but he was getting tired of farming. It was quite lonely. Uncle Faid read the county paper, but was not specially interested in the questions of the day; and Retty and her husband never went beyond stock, and the crops, and the baby. Ben kept his brother supplied with books that opened a wider outlook for him, and made him a little discontented with the humdrum round.

"I wouldn't mind it if you were all there," he would say. "After all the city is the only real live place! I've half a mind to come down and learn a trade. Only I do like the wide out of doors. I couldn't stand being cooped up."

"And I'm going round the world some day," returned Ben.

"I'd like to go out with Frémont. The other side of our country seems so curious to me, I want to see what it is like. The other side of the Rocky Mountains! It's almost like saying the Desert of Sahara," and the young fellow laughed.

There was the usual spring and summer dress-making for the ladies. Even Miss Cynthia, looking sharply at Hanny, said:—

"I don't see what's the matter with that child! I supposed she'd have everything outgrown, and some of her last summer's skirts won't need any letting down. They're wearing them shorter now; and you know, Cousin Underhill, you would have them made rather long last summer."

The little girl sometimes felt quite sore on the point. The Deans were getting to be tall girls, and even Daisy Jasper had taken to growing. And her lovely curls were quite long again. She certainly was very pretty.

But when Hanny took this trouble to her father, he only laughed and squeezed her in his arms, and sometimes rubbed her soft cheeks with his beard, his old trick, as he said:—

"But I want to keep you my little girl. I don't want you to grow big like Margaret. For if you should, some nice fellow will come along and insist upon carrying you off, and then I should lose you. Whatever would I do?"

That view of the matter was alarming to contemplate. She clung closer to her father, and said, in a half-frightened tone, that she never would be carried off. It quite reconciled her to the fact of not growing rapidly.

The girls all went down to see Nora Whitney one Saturday in June. It looked rather threatening in the morning, but a yard or two of blue sky gave them hope. Mr. Underhill took them all in the family carriage. Oh, how lovely the little park looked with its soft grass and waving trees! And in the area windows there were pots of flowers: ten-weeks' stock, and spice pinks, and geraniums that were considered quite a rarity.

Nora was out on the front stoop with Pussy Gray, who arched his back and waved his tail with an air of grandeur, and then sat down on the top step and began to wash his face, while Father Underhill was planning to take them all for a drive late in the afternoon.

Pussy Gray watched his little mistress out of one green eye, and washed over one ear. He was just going over the other when Nora caught him, "Why do you stop him?" asked Daisy.

"Because he wants to make it rain and spoil our day. Pussy Gray—if you do!"

"But it wouldn't really?"

"Well, it's a sure sign when he goes over both ears. When I don't want it to rain, I stop him."

"But suppose he does it when he is by himself?"

"I think sometimes he runs away and does it on the sly. Aunt Patty says it is as sure as sure can be."

Pussy Gray winked at Hanny, as if he said he didn't believe in signs, and that he should wash over both ears when he found a chance.

Dele was bright and merry. She "bossed" the house, for Mrs. Whitney had subsided into novel-reading again, and now took books out of the Mercantile Library. A woman was doing the Saturday morning's work, and scrubbing the areas. After that she went over the front one with a red wash that looked like paint, and freshened it. The girls took a run in the yard. There was a long flower-bed down the side of the fence, and at one end all manner of sweet herbs, lavender, thyme, and rosemary, sweet verbena, and then tansy and camomile, and various useful things.

"Camomile tea is good for you when you lose your appetite," said Nora; "but it's awful bitter. Aunt Patty cuts off the leaves and blossoms of the sweet herbs, and sews them up in little bags of fine muslin, and lays them among the clothes and the nice towels and pillow-cases. And it makes them all smell just delicious."

The air was full of fragrance now. They played tag around the grass-plot. Daisy sat on the stoop and said she didn't mind, though she gave a little sigh, and wondered how it would feel to run about. The little lame girl in Houston Street could get over the ground pretty rapidly. She had interested Doctor Joe in her, and he had hunted up the child's mother, who wouldn't listen to anything being done for her.

"Sure," said she, "if it's the Lord's will to send this affliction to her, I'll not be flying in the face of Providence. She can manage, and she's impident enough now. There'd be no livin' with her if she had two good legs. And I'll not have any doctor cuttin' her up into mince-meat."

Pussy Gray came and sat beside Daisy with a flick of the ear and turn of the tail, as if he said: "We'll let those foolish girls fly about and squeal and laugh and get half roasted, while we sit here at leisure and enjoy ourselves."

Afterward they swung, and then went up to Nora's play-house. Aunt Patty had given her a rag doll that she had when she was a little girl, and it was over fifty years old. It was undeniably sweet, because it had been steeped in lavender, but it was not very pretty. There was a curious little wooden cradle Aunt Patty's brother had made. All the children's story-books were up here in a case Dele had made out of a packing box.

They thought after a little they would rather go over in the Park. Nora took the key. It was very pleasant; and they watched the carts and waggons going by, and the pedestrians. Presently a young woman unlocked the gate at the lower end, and came in with two little children rather queerly dressed. She had a white muslin cap on her head, very high in front. We often see them now, but then they were a rarity. The little children had very black eyes and curly black hair, and stared curiously at the group of girls.

"They're French," explained Nora. "They live a few doors down below. And they can't speak a word of English, nor the maid either, though we do sometimes talk a little. There are two quite big boys, then the mother and father, and the grandmother and grandfather. The old people come out and sit on the stoop, now that it is warm. He reads French books to her, and she makes lace. About four o'clock, the servant brings out a tea-table, and they have some tea and little bits of cake. They do it all summer long, Aunt Patty says, and the old lady is beautiful—just like a picture."

The girls walked down a little. The maid smiled and nodded. The children made queer stiff bows, both alike, though they were girl and boy; but they looked half afraid. The maid said "Bon jour" to Nora, who replied with a longer sentence. And then she began to explain in English and her scanty French that these were her friends, and that they were studying French in school. The Deans talked a little; but Hanny was too shy, and the conversation would have been very amusing to a spectator. But just when it was getting quite exciting, and they couldn't make each other understand at all, Hanny caught sight of Delia waving her handkerchief from the front stoop, which was a signal that dinner was ready, so they all curtsied and said good-bye.

Afterward Aunt Patty showed them her "treasures," some very odd dishes and pitchers that were more than a hundred years old, and some jewels, and the gown Aunt Clem had worn to Washington's Inauguration, and told them about Mrs. Washington and going to the old theatre in John Street. She had some beautiful combs, and buckles that her father used to wear, and kid-gloves that had long arms and came most up to her shoulders. She told the children so many entertaining stories that before the afternoon seemed half gone Mr. Underhill came for them. Nora wanted to go also.

"You can take her home with you," said Dele; "and I'll come up for her this evening. I'm just wild to see Mrs. Underhill and the boys. I hope the children have had a good time. I've hardly had a glimpse of them except at dinner."

They crossed the ferry and went over to Jersey. It was still pretty wild and country-like, but the trees and shrubs and bloom everywhere lent it a glory. The children chatted merrily, and all agreed the day was too short.

"But you can come again," said Nora.

When the Deans sprang out, Charles Reed stood by the stoop talking to Mr. Dean. Nora said the place hadn't changed a bit, and she wished she was back again. There were nothing but old people in Beach Street, and she had no little girls to play with. She didn't know what she should do when vacation came.

They were just through supper when Delia arrived, and she insisted upon sitting down at the table and having a cup of Mrs. Underhill's good tea. She was her olden jolly self, and had her brother's letters almost by heart. She thought them a great deal brighter and more amusing than those published in the "Tribune."

"But I like those," exclaimed Ben; "I'm cutting them out for a scrap-book. I just wish I was with him!"

"And he would like to have you," returned Dele. "I don't believe he ever took so much of a fancy to any one as he did to you."

They talked books a little. No, Dele had not written any more stories. The old ladies took a good deal of her time. And she had been studying. She wished she were going to school again; she should appreciate it so much more. She was reading the English essayists and Wordsworth, and learning about the great men and women.

Ben walked out to the Bowery to put them in the stage; and Dele said, rather ruefully:—

"I just wish we could study and read together. I miss The. so much, I could always ask him questions; but now I have to look up everything myself, and it's slow work."

"Dele has quite a family on her hands," said John, when she had gone. "She's getting to be rather good-looking, too. Her eyes are very fine."

"But she doesn't grow much tidier," returned his mother.

"Her hair is curly and always looks tumbled," was the half-apologising rejoinder. "But she is very bright, and she'll do something with herself."

Mrs. Underhill glanced sharply at her son. There was no danger in Ben being a little soft about Delia Whitney; but she was surprised at John's commendation.

Doctor Joe walked down to see how his patient had stood the day. Her mother had been almost afraid to have her go, lest "something might happen." She was very tired, of course, and glad to take to the reclining chair with all the pillows; but her eyes were in a glow, and her cheeks a pretty pink that Mrs. Jasper was quite sure was undue excitement.

"It was just splendid," Daisy declared; "Mamma, I do want to be like other girls, and see what is going on in the world. The old ladies were so quaint; and it was wonderful to have seen President Washington and so many famous people. And what interested me, was her talking about them just like ordinary persons. And Nora is so amusing. I want to learn French so that I can really talk it. You can't imagine how funny it was in the Park, trying to make each other understand. Oh, there are so many things I want to learn."

"There will be time enough," said her mother.

When Doctor Joe took her hand and bent over her to say good-night, she whispered softly—

"I did try to forget my own misfortune, and I was very happy. I am going to be brave. It is such a lovely world; and it is such a splendid thing to be happy. Doctor Joe, you are my Mr. Greatheart."