Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm

by Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin

  XV

  THE BANQUET LAMP

  There had been company at the brick house to the bountiful Thanksgivingdinner which had been provided at one o'clock,--the Burnham sisters,who lived between North Riverboro and Shaker Village, and who for morethan a quarter of a century had come to pass the holiday with theSawyers every year. Rebecca sat silent with a book after the dinnerdishes were washed, and when it was nearly five asked if she might goto the Simpsons'.

  "What do you want to run after those Simpson children for on aThanksgiving Day?" queried Miss Miranda. "Can't you set still for onceand listen to the improvin' conversation of your elders? You never canlet well enough alone, but want to be forever on the move."

  "The Simpsons have a new lamp, and Emma Jane and I promised to go upand see it lighted, and make it a kind of a party."

  "What under the canopy did they want of a lamp, and where did they getthe money to pay for it? If Abner was at home, I should think he'd beenswappin' again," said Miss Miranda.

  "The children got it as a prize for selling soap," replied Rebecca;"they've been working for a year, and you know I told you that EmmaJane and I helped them the Saturday afternoon you were in Portland."

  "I didn't take notice, I s'pose, for it's the first time I ever heardthe lamp mentioned. Well, you can go for an hour, and no more. Rememberit's as dark at six as it is at midnight Would you like to take alongsome Baldwin apples? What have you got in the pocket of that new dressthat makes it sag down so?"

  "It's my nuts and raisins from dinner," replied Rebecca, who neversucceeded in keeping the most innocent action a secret from her auntMiranda; "they're just what you gave me on my plate."

  "Why didn't you eat them?"

  "Because I'd had enough dinner, and I thought if I saved these, itwould make the Simpsons' party better," stammered Rebecca, who hated tobe scolded and examined before company.

  "They were your own, Rebecca," interposed aunt Jane, "and if you choseto save them to give away, it is all right. We ought never to let thisday pass without giving our neighbors something to be thankful for,instead of taking all the time to think of our own mercies."

  The Burnham sisters nodded approvingly as Rebecca went out, andremarked that they had never seen a child grow and improve so fast inso short a time.

  "There's plenty of room left for more improvement, as you'd know if shelived in the same house with you," answered Miranda. "She's into everynamable thing in the neighborhood, an' not only into it, but generallyat the head an' front of it, especially when it's mischief. Of all thefoolishness I ever heard of, that lamp beats everything; it's just likethose Simpsons, but I didn't suppose the children had brains enough tosell anything."

  "One of them must have," said Miss Ellen Burnham, "for the girl thatwas selling soap at the Ladds' in North Riverboro was described by AdamLadd as the most remarkable and winning child he ever saw."

  "It must have been Clara Belle, and I should never call herremarkable," answered Miss Miranda. "Has Adam been home again?"

  "Yes, he's been staying a few days with his aunt. There's no limit tothe money he's making, they say; and he always brings presents for allthe neighbors. This time it was a full set of furs for Mrs. Ladd; andto think we can remember the time he was a barefoot boy without twoshirts to his back! It is strange he hasn't married, with all hismoney, and him so fond of children that he always has a pack of them athis heels."

  "There's hope for him still, though," said Miss Jane smilingly; "for Idon't s'pose he's more than thirty."

  "He could get a wife in Riverboro if he was a hundred and thirty,"remarked Miss Miranda.

  "Adam's aunt says he was so taken with the little girl that sold thesoap (Clara Belle, did you say her name was?), that he declared he wasgoing to bring her a Christmas present," continued Miss Ellen.

  "Well, there's no accountin' for tastes," exclaimed Miss Miranda."Clara Belle's got cross-eyes and red hair, but I'd be the last one togrudge her a Christmas present; the more Adam Ladd gives to her theless the town'll have to."

  "Isn't there another Simpson girl?" asked Miss Lydia Burnham; "for thisone couldn't have been cross-eyed; I remember Mrs. Ladd saying Adamremarked about this child's handsome eyes. He said it was her eyes thatmade him buy the three hundred cakes. Mrs. Ladd has it stacked up inthe shed chamber."

  "Three hundred cakes!" ejaculated Miranda. "Well, there's one crop thatnever fails in Riverboro!"

  "What's that?" asked Miss Lydia politely.

  "The fool crop," responded Miranda tersely, and changed the subject,much to Jane's gratitude, for she had been nervous and ill at ease forthe last fifteen minutes. What child in Riverboro could be described asremarkable and winning, save Rebecca? What child had wonderful eyes,except the same Rebecca? and finally, was there ever a child in theworld who could make a man buy soap by the hundred cakes, save Rebecca?

  Meantime the "remarkable" child had flown up the road in the deepeningdusk, but she had not gone far before she heard the sound of hurryingfootsteps, and saw a well-known figure coming in her direction. In amoment she and Emma Jane met and exchanged a breathless embrace.

  "Something awful has happened," panted Emma Jane.

  "Don't tell me it's broken," exclaimed Rebecca.

  "No! oh, no! not that! It was packed in straw, and every piece came outall right; and I was there, and I never said a single thing about yourselling the three hundred cakes that got the lamp, so that we could betogether when you told."

  "OUR selling the three hundred cakes," corrected Rebecca; "you did asmuch as I."

  "No, I didn't, Rebecca Randall. I just sat at the gate and held thehorse."

  "Yes, but WHOSE horse was it that took us to North Riverboro? Andbesides, it just happened to be my turn. If you had gone in and foundMr. Aladdin you would have had the wonderful lamp given to you; butwhat's the trouble?"

  "The Simpsons have no kerosene and no wicks. I guess they thought abanquet lamp was something that lighted itself, and burned without anyhelp. Seesaw has gone to the doctor's to try if he can borrow a wick,and mother let me have a pint of oil, but she says she won't give meany more. We never thought of the expense of keeping up the lamp,Rebecca."

  "No, we didn't, but let's not worry about that till after the party. Ihave a handful of nuts and raisins and some apples."

  "I have peppermints and maple sugar," said Emma Jane. "They had a realThanksgiving dinner; the doctor gave them sweet potatoes andcranberries and turnips; father sent a spare-rib, and Mrs. Cobb achicken and a jar of mince-meat."

  At half past five one might have looked in at the Simpsons' windows,and seen the party at its height. Mrs. Simpson had let the kitchen firedie out, and had brought the baby to grace the festal scene. The lampseemed to be having the party, and receiving the guests. The childrenhad taken the one small table in the house, and it was placed in thefar corner of the room to serve as a pedestal. On it stood the sacred,the adored, the long-desired object; almost as beautiful, and nearlyhalf as large as the advertisement. The brass glistened like gold, andthe crimson paper shade glowed like a giant ruby. In the wide splash oflight that it flung upon the floor sat the Simpsons, in reverent andsolemn silence, Emma Jane standing behind them, hand in hand withRebecca. There seemed to be no desire for conversation; the occasionwas too thrilling and serious for that. The lamp, it was tacitly feltby everybody, was dignifying the party, and providing sufficiententertainment simply by its presence; being fully as satisfactory inits way as a pianola or a string band.

  "I wish father could see it," said Clara Belle loyally.

  "If he onth thaw it he'd want to thwap it," murmured Susan sagaciously.

  At the appointed hour Rebecca dragged herself reluctantly away from theenchanting scene.

  "I'll turn the lamp out the minute I think you and Emma Jane are home,"said Clara Belle. "And, oh! I'm so glad you both live where you can seeit shine from our windows. I wonder how long it will burn without bein'filled if I only keep it lit one hour every night?"

  "
You needn't put it out for want o' karosene," said Seesaw, coming infrom the shed, "for there's a great kag of it settin' out there. Mr.Tubbs brought it over from North Riverboro and said somebody sent anorder by mail for it."

  Rebecca squeezed Emma Jane's arm, and Emma Jane gave a rapturous returnsqueeze. "It was Mr. Aladdin," whispered Rebecca, as they ran down thepath to the gate. Seesaw followed them and handsomely offered to seethem "apiece" down the road, but Rebecca declined his escort with suchdecision that he did not press the matter, but went to bed to dream ofher instead. In his dreams flashes of lightning proceeded from both hereyes, and she held a flaming sword in either hand.

  Rebecca entered the home dining-room joyously. The Burnham sisters hadgone and the two aunts were knitting.

  "It was a heavenly party," she cried, taking off her hat and cape.

  "Go back and see if you have shut the door tight, and then lock it,"said Miss Miranda, in her usual austere manner.

  "It was a heavenly party," reiterated Rebecca, coming in again, muchtoo excited to be easily crushed, "and oh! aunt Jane, aunt Miranda, ifyou'll only come into the kitchen and look out of the sink window, youcan see the banquet lamp shining all red, just as if the Simpsons'house was on fire."

  "And probably it will be before long," observed Miranda. "I've got nopatience with such foolish goin's-on."

  Jane accompanied Rebecca into the kitchen. Although the feeble glimmerwhich she was able to see from that distance did not seem to her adazzling exhibition, she tried to be as enthusiastic as possible.

  "Rebecca, who was it that sold the three hundred cakes of soap to Mr.Ladd in North Riverboro?"

  "Mr. WHO?" exclaimed Rebecca.

  "Mr. Ladd, in North Riverboro."

  "Is that his real name?" queried Rebecca in astonishment. "I didn'tmake a bad guess;" and she laughed softly to herself.

  "I asked you who sold the soap to Adam Ladd?" resumed Miss Jane.

  "Adam Ladd! then he's A. Ladd, too; what fun!"

  "Answer me, Rebecca."

  "Oh! excuse me, aunt Jane, I was so busy thinking. Emma Jane and I soldthe soap to Mr. Ladd."

  "Did you tease him, or make him buy it?"

  "Now, aunt Jane, how could I make a big grown-up man buy anything if hedidn't want to? He needed the soap dreadfully as a present for hisaunt."

  Miss Jane still looked a little unconvinced, though she only said, "Ihope your aunt Miranda won't mind, but you know how particular she is,Rebecca, and I really wish you wouldn't do anything out of the ordinarywithout asking her first, for your actions are very queer."

  "There can't be anything wrong this time," Rebecca answeredconfidently. "Emma Jane sold her cakes to her own relations and touncle Jerry Cobb, and I went first to those new tenements near thelumber mill, and then to the Ladds'. Mr. Ladd bought all we had andmade us promise to keep the secret until the premium came, and I'vebeen going about ever since as if the banquet lamp was inside of me alllighted up and burning, for everybody to see."

  Rebecca's hair was loosened and falling over her forehead in ruffledwaves; her eyes were brilliant, her cheeks crimson; there was a hint ofeverything in the girl's face,--of sensitiveness and delicacy as wellas of ardor; there was the sweetness of the mayflower and the strengthof the young oak, but one could easily divine that she was one of

  "The souls by nature pitched too high, By suffering plunged too low."

  "That's just the way you look, for all the world as if you did have alamp burning inside of you," sighed aunt Jane. "Rebecca! Rebecca! Iwish you could take things easier, child; I am fearful for yousometimes."