Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm

by Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin

  XVIII

  REBECCA REPRESENTS THE FAMILY

  There was another milestone; it was more than that, it was an "event;"an event that made a deep impression in several quarters and left awake of smaller events in its train. This was the coming to Riverboroof the Reverend Amos Burch and wife, returned missionaries from Syria.

  The Aid Society had called its meeting for a certain Wednesday in Marchof the year in which Rebecca ended her Riverboro school days and beganher studies at Wareham. It was a raw, blustering day, snow on theground and a look in the sky of more to follow. Both Miranda and Janehad taken cold and decided that they could not leave the house in suchweather, and this deflection from the path of duty worried Miranda,since she was an officer of the society. After making the breakfasttable sufficiently uncomfortable and wishing plaintively that Janewouldn't always insist on being sick at the same time she was, shedecided that Rebecca must go to the meeting in their stead. "You'll bebetter than nobody, Rebecca," she said flatteringly; "your aunt Janeshall write an excuse from afternoon school for you; you can wear yourrubber boots and come home by the way of the meetin' house. This Mr.Burch, if I remember right, used to know your grandfather Sawyer, andstayed here once when he was candidatin'. He'll mebbe look for usthere, and you must just go and represent the family, an' give him ourrespects. Be careful how you behave. Bow your head in prayer; sing allthe hymns, but not too loud and bold; ask after Mis' Strout's boy; telleverybody what awful colds we've got; if you see a good chance, takeyour pocket handkerchief and wipe the dust off the melodeon before themeetin' begins, and get twenty-five cents out of the sittin' roommatch-box in case there should be a collection."

  Rebecca willingly assented. Anything interested her, even a villagemissionary meeting, and the idea of representing the family was ratherintoxicating.

  The service was held in the Sunday-school room, and although the Rev.Mr. Burch was on the platform when Rebecca entered, there were only adozen persons present. Feeling a little shy and considerably too youngfor this assemblage, Rebecca sought the shelter of a friendly face, andseeing Mrs. Robinson in one of the side seats near the front, shewalked up the aisle and sat beside her.

  "Both my aunts had bad colds," she said softly, "and sent me torepresent the family."

  "That's Mrs. Burch on the platform with her husband," whispered Mrs.Robinson. "She's awful tanned up, ain't she? If you're goin' to savesouls seems like you hev' to part with your complexion. Eudoxy Mortonain't come yet; I hope to the land she will, or Mis' Deacon Milliken'llpitch the tunes where we can't reach 'em with a ladder; can't youpitch, afore she gits her breath and clears her throat?"

  Mrs. Burch was a slim, frail little woman with dark hair, a broad lowforehead, and patient mouth. She was dressed in a well-worn black silk,and looked so tired that Rebecca's heart went out to her.

  "They're poor as Job's turkey," whispered Mrs. Robinson; "but if yougive 'em anything they'd turn right round and give it to the heathen.His congregation up to Parsonsfield clubbed together and give him thatgold watch he carries; I s'pose he'd 'a' handed that over too, onlyheathens always tell time by the sun 'n' don't need watches. Eudoxyain't comin'; now for massy's sake, Rebecca, do git ahead of Mis'Deacon Milliken and pitch real low."

  The meeting began with prayer and then the Rev. Mr. Burch announced, tothe tune of Mendon:--

  "Church of our God I arise and shine, Bright with the beams of truth divine: Then shall thy radiance stream afar, Wide as the heathen nations are.

  "Gentiles and kings thy light shall view, And shall admire and love thee too; They come, like clouds across the sky, As doves that to their windows fly."

  "Is there any one present who will assist us at the instrument?" heasked unexpectedly.

  Everybody looked at everybody else, and nobody moved; then there came avoice out of a far corner saying informally, "Rebecca, why don't you?"It was Mrs. Cobb. Rebecca could have played Mendon in the dark, so shewent to the melodeon and did so without any ado, no member of herfamily being present to give her self-consciousness.

  The talk that ensued was much the usual sort of thing. Mr. Burch madeimpassioned appeals for the spreading of the gospel, and added hisentreaties that all who were prevented from visiting in person thepeoples who sat in darkness should contribute liberally to the supportof others who could. But he did more than this. He was a pleasant,earnest speaker, and he interwove his discourse with stories of life ina foreign land,--of the manners, the customs, the speech, the point ofview; even giving glimpses of the daily round, the common task, of hisown household, the work of his devoted helpmate and their little groupof children, all born under Syrian skies.

  Rebecca sat entranced, having been given the key of another world.Riverboro had faded; the Sunday-school room, with Mrs. Robinson's redplaid shawl, and Deacon Milliken's wig, on crooked, the bare benchesand torn hymn-books, the hanging texts and maps, were no longervisible, and she saw blue skies and burning stars, white turbans andgay colors; Mr. Burch had not said so, but perhaps there were mosquesand temples and minarets and date-palms. What stories they must know,those children born under Syrian skies! Then she was called upon toplay "Jesus shall reign where'er the sun."

  The contribution box was passed and Mr. Burch prayed. As he opened hiseyes and gave out the last hymn he looked at the handful of people, atthe scattered pennies and dimes in the contribution box, and reflectedthat his mission was not only to gather funds for the building of hischurch, but to keep alive, in all these remote and lonelyneighborhoods, that love for the cause which was its only hope in theyears to come.

  "If any of the sisters will provide entertainment," he said, "Mrs.Burch and I will remain among you to-night and to-morrow. In that eventwe could hold a parlor meeting. My wife and one of my children wouldwear the native costume, we would display some specimens of Syrianhandiwork, and give an account of our educational methods with thechildren. These informal parlor meetings, admitting of questions orconversation, are often the means of interesting those not commonlyfound at church services so I repeat, if any member of the congregationdesires it and offers her hospitality, we will gladly stay and tell youmore of the Lord's work."

  A pall of silence settled over the little assembly. There was somecogent reason why every "sister" there was disinclined for company.Some had no spare room, some had a larder less well stocked than usual,some had sickness in the family, some were "unequally yoked togetherwith unbelievers" who disliked strange ministers. Mrs. Burch's thinhands fingered her black silk nervously. "Would no one speak!" thoughtRebecca, her heart fluttering with sympathy. Mrs. Robinson leaned overand whispered significantly, "The missionaries always used to beentertained at the brick house; your grandfather never would let 'emsleep anywheres else when he was alive." She meant this for a stab atMiss Miranda's parsimony, remembering the four spare chambers, closedfrom January to December; but Rebecca thought it was intended as asuggestion. If it had been a former custom, perhaps her aunts wouldwant her to do the right thing; for what else was she representing thefamily? So, delighted that duty lay in so pleasant a direction, sherose from her seat and said in the pretty voice and with the quaintmanner that so separated her from all the other young people in thevillage, "My aunts, Miss Miranda and Miss Jane Sawyer, would be veryhappy to have you visit them at the brick house, as the ministersalways used to do when their father was alive. They sent their respectsby me." The "respects" might have been the freedom of the city, or anequestrian statue, when presented in this way, and the aunts would haveshuddered could they have foreseen the manner of delivery; but it wasvastly impressive to the audience, who concluded that Mirandy Sawyermust be making her way uncommonly fast to mansions in the skies, elsewhat meant this abrupt change of heart?

  Mr. Burch bowed courteously, accepted the invitation "in the samespirit in which it was offered," and asked Brother Milliken to lead inprayer.

  If the Eternal Ear could ever tire it would have ceased long ere thisto listen to Deacon Milliken, who had wafted to
the throne of grace thesame prayer, with very slight variations, for forty years. Mrs. Perkinsfollowed; she had several petitions at her command, good sincere onestoo, but a little cut and dried, made of scripture texts laboriouslywoven together. Rebecca wondered why she always ended, at the mostpeaceful seasons, with the form, "Do Thou be with us, God of Battles,while we strive onward like Christian soldiers marching as to war;" buteverything sounded real to her to-day, she was in a devout mood, andmany things Mr. Burch had said had moved her strangely. As she liftedher head the minister looked directly at her and said, "Will our youngsister close the service by leading us in prayer?"

  Every drop of blood in Rebecca's body seemed to stand still, and herheart almost stopped beating. Mrs. Cobb's excited breathing could beheard distinctly in the silence. There was nothing extraordinary in Mr.Burch's request. In his journeyings among country congregations he wasconstantly in the habit of meeting young members who had "experiencedreligion" and joined the church when nine or ten years old. Rebecca wasnow thirteen; she had played the melodeon, led the singing, deliveredher aunts' invitation with an air of great worldly wisdom, and he,concluding that she must be a youthful pillar of the church, calledupon her with the utmost simplicity.

  Rebecca's plight was pathetic. How could she refuse; how could sheexplain she was not a "member;" how could she pray before all thoseelderly women! John Rogers at the stake hardly suffered more than thispoor child for the moment as she rose to her feet, forgetting thatladies prayed sitting, while deacons stood in prayer. Her mind was amaze of pictures that the Rev. Mr. Burch had flung on the screen. Sheknew the conventional phraseology, of course; what New England child,accustomed to Wednesday evening meetings, does not? But her own secretprayers were different. However, she began slowly and tremulously:--

  "Our Father who art in Heaven, ... Thou art God in Syria just the same as in Maine; ...over there to-day are blue skies and yellow stars and burning suns . . . the great trees are waving in the warm air, while here the snow lies thick under our feet, ... but no distance is too far for God to travel and so He is with us here as He is with them there, ... and our thoughts rise to Him 'as doves that to their windows fly.' ...

  "We cannot all be missionaries, teaching people to be good, ... some of us have not learned yet how to be good ourselves, but if thy kingdom is to come and thy will is to be done on earth as it is in heaven, everybody must try and everybody must help, ... those who are old and tired and those who are young and strong.... The little children of whom we have heard, those born under Syrian skies, have strange and interesting work to do for Thee, and some of us would like to travel in far lands and do wonderful brave things for the heathen and gently take away their idols of wood and stone. But perhaps we have to stay at home and do what is given us to do ... sometimes even things we dislike, ... but that must be what it means in the hymn we sang, when it talked about the sweet perfume that rises with every morning sacrifice.... This is the way that God teaches us to be meek and patient, and the thought that He has willed it so should rob us of our fears and help us bear the years. Amen."

  Poor little ignorant, fantastic child! Her petition was simply asuccession of lines from the various hymns, and images the minister hadused in his sermon, but she had her own way of recombining and applyingthese things, even of using them in a new connection, so that they hada curious effect of belonging to her. The words of some people mightgenerally be written with a minus sign after them, the minus meaningthat the personality of the speaker subtracted from, rather than addedto, their weight; but Rebecca's words might always have borne the plussign.

  The "Amen" said, she sat down, or presumed she sat down, on what shebelieved to be a bench, and there was a benediction. In a moment ortwo, when the room ceased spinning, she went up to Mrs. Burch, whokissed her affectionately and said, "My dear, how glad I am that we aregoing to stay with you. Will half past five be too late for us to come?It is three now, and we have to go to the station for our valise andfor our children. We left them there, being uncertain whether we shouldgo back or stop here."

  Rebecca said that half past five was their supper hour, and thenaccepted an invitation to drive home with Mrs. Cobb. Her face wasflushed and her lip quivered in a way that aunt Sarah had learned toknow, so the homeward drive was taken almost in silence. The bleak windand aunt Sarah's quieting presence brought her back to herself,however, and she entered the brick house cheerily. Being too full ofnews to wait in the side entry to take off her rubber boots, shecarefully lifted a braided rug into the sitting-room and stood on thatwhile she opened her budget.

  "There are your shoes warming by the fire," said aunt Jane. "Slip themright on while you talk."