Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm

by Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin

  XIX

  DEACON ISRAEL'S SUCCESSOR

  "It was a very small meeting, aunt Miranda," began Rebecca, "and themissionary and his wife are lovely people, and they are coming here tostay all night and to-morrow with you. I hope you won't mind."

  "Coming here!" exclaimed Miranda, letting her knitting fall in her lap,and taking her spectacles off, as she always did in moments of extremeexcitement. "Did they invite themselves?"

  "No," Rebecca answered. "I had to invite them for you; but I thoughtyou'd like to have such interesting company. It was this way"--

  "Stop your explainin', and tell me first when they'll be here. Rightaway?"

  "No, not for two hours--about half past five."

  "Then you can explain, if you can, who gave you any authority to invitea passel of strangers to stop here over night, when you know we ain'thad any company for twenty years, and don't intend to have any foranother twenty,--or at any rate while I'm the head of the house."

  "Don't blame her, Miranda, till you've heard her story," said Jane. "Itwas in my mind right along, if we went to the meeting, some such thingmight happen, on account of Mr. Burch knowing father."

  "The meeting was a small one," began Rebecca "I gave all your messages,and everybody was disappointed you couldn't come, for the presidentwasn't there, and Mrs. Matthews took the chair, which was a pity, forthe seat wasn't nearly big enough for her, and she reminded me of aline in a hymn we sang, 'Wide as the heathen nations are,' and she worethat kind of a beaver garden-hat that always gets on one side. And Mr.Burch talked beautifully about the Syrian heathen, and the singing wentreal well, and there looked to be about forty cents in the basket thatwas passed on our side. And that wouldn't save even a heathen baby,would it? Then Mr. Burch said, if any sister would offer entertainment,they would pass the night, and have a parlor meeting in Riverboroto-morrow, with Mrs. Burch in Syrian costume, and lovely foreign thingsto show. Then he waited and waited, and nobody said a word. I was somortified I didn't know what to do. And then he repeated what he said,an explained why he wanted to stay, and you could see he thought it washis duty. Just then Mrs. Robinson whispered to me and said themissionaries always used to go to the brick house when grandfather wasalive, and that he never would let them sleep anywhere else. I didn'tknow you had stopped having them because no traveling ministers havebeen here, except just for a Sunday morning, since I came to Riverboro.So I thought I ought to invite them, as you weren't there to do it foryourself, and you told me to represent the family."

  "What did you do--go up and introduce yourself as folks was goin' out?"

  "No; I stood right up in meeting. I had to, for Mr. Burch's feelingswere getting hurt at nobody's speaking. So I said, 'My aunts, MissMiranda and Miss Jane Sawyer would be happy to have you visit at thebrick house, just as the missionaries always did when their father wasalive, and they sent their respects by me.' Then I sat down; and Mr.Burch prayed for grandfather, and called him a man of God, and thankedour Heavenly Father that his spirit was still alive in his descendants(that was you), and that the good old house where so many of thebrethren had been cheered and helped, and from which so many had goneout strengthened for the fight, was still hospitably open for thestranger and wayfarer."

  Sometimes, when the heavenly bodies are in just the right conjunction,nature seems to be the most perfect art. The word or the deed comingstraight from the heart, without any thought of effect, seems inspired.

  A certain gateway in Miranda Sawyer's soul had been closed for years;not all at once had it been done, but gradually, and without her fullknowledge. If Rebecca had plotted for days, and with the utmostcunning, she could not have effected an entrance into that forbiddencountry, and now, unknown to both of them, the gate swung on its stiffand rusty hinges, and the favoring wind of opportunity opened it widerand wider as time went on. All things had worked together amazingly forgood. The memory of old days had been evoked, and the daily life of apious and venerated father called to mind; the Sawyer name had beenpublicly dignified and praised; Rebecca had comported herself as thegranddaughter of Deacon Israel Sawyer should, and showed conclusivelythat she was not "all Randall," as had been supposed. Miranda wasrather mollified by and pleased with the turn of events, although shedid not intend to show it, or give anybody any reason to expect thatthis expression of hospitality was to serve for a precedent on anysubsequent occasion.

  "Well, I see you did only what you was obliged to do, Rebecca," shesaid, "and you worded your invitation as nice as anybody could havedone. I wish your aunt Jane and me wasn't both so worthless with thesecolds; but it only shows the good of havin' a clean house, with everyroom in order, whether open or shut, and enough victuals cooked so 'tyou can't be surprised and belittled by anybody, whatever happens.There was half a dozen there that might have entertained the Burches aseasy as not, if they hadn't 'a' been too mean or lazy. Why didn't yourmissionaries come right along with you?"

  "They had to go to the station for their valise and their children."

  "Are there children?" groaned Miranda.

  "Yes, aunt Miranda, all born under Syrian skies."

  "Syrian grandmother!" ejaculated Miranda (and it was not a fact). "Howmany?"

  "I didn't think to ask; but I will get two rooms ready, and if thereare any over I'll take 'em into my bed," said Rebecca, secretly hopingthat this would be the case. "Now, as you're both half sick, couldn'tyou trust me just once to get ready for the company? You can come upwhen I call. Will you?"

  "I believe I will," sighed Miranda reluctantly. "I'll lay down side o'Jane in our bedroom and see if I can get strength to cook supper. It'shalf past three--don't you let me lay a minute past five. I kep' a goodfire in the kitchen stove. I don't know, I'm sure, why I should havebaked a pot o' beans in the middle of the week, but they'll come inhandy. Father used to say there was nothing that went right to the spotwith returned missionaries like pork 'n' beans 'n' brown bread. Fix upthe two south chambers, Rebecca."

  Rebecca, given a free hand for the only time in her life, dashedupstairs like a whirlwind. Every room in the brick house was as neat aswax, and she had only to pull up the shades, go over the floors with awhisk broom, and dust the furniture. The aunts could hear her scurryingto and fro, beating up pillows and feather beds, flapping towels,jingling crockery, singing meanwhile in her clear voice:--

  "In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown; The heathen in his blindness Bows down to wood and stone."

  She had grown to be a handy little creature, and tasks she was capableof doing at all she did like a flash, so that when she called her auntsat five o'clock to pass judgment, she had accomplished wonders. Therewere fresh towels on bureaus and washstands, the beds were fair andsmooth, the pitchers were filled, and soap and matches were laid out;newspaper, kindling, and wood were in the boxes, and a large stickburned slowly in each air-tight stove. "I thought I'd better just takethe chill off," she explained, "as they're right from Syria; and thatreminds me, I must look it up in the geography before they get here."

  There was nothing to disapprove, so the two sisters went downstairs tomake some slight changes in their dress. As they passed the parlor doorMiranda thought she heard a crackle and looked in. The shades were up,there was a cheerful blaze in the open stove in the front parlor, and afire laid on the hearth in the back room. Rebecca's own lamp, hersecond Christmas present from Mr. Aladdin, stood on a marble-toppedtable in the corner, the light that came softly through itsrose-colored shade transforming the stiff and gloomy ugliness of theroom into a place where one could sit and love one's neighbor.

  "For massy's sake, Rebecca," called Miss Miranda up the stairs, "didyou think we'd better open the parlor?"

  Rebecca came out on the landing braiding her hair.

  "We did on Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I thought this was about asgreat an occasion," she said. "I moved the wax flowers off themantelpiece so they wouldn't melt, and put the shells, the coral, andthe green stuffed bird on top of the what
-not, so the children wouldn'task to play with them. Brother Milliken's coming over to see Mr. Burchabout business, and I shouldn't wonder if Brother and Sister Cobbhappened in. Don't go down cellar, I'll be there in a minute to do therunning."

  Miranda and Jane exchanged glances.

  "Ain't she the beatin'est creetur that ever was born int' the world!"exclaimed Miranda; "but she can turn off work when she's got a mind to!"

  At quarter past five everything was ready, and the neighbors, those atleast who were within sight of the brick house (a prominent object inthe landscape when there were no leaves on the trees), were curiousalmost to desperation. Shades up in both parlors! Shades up in the twosouth bedrooms! And fires--if human vision was to be relied on--firesin about every room. If it had not been for the kind offices of a ladywho had been at the meeting, and who charitably called in at one or twohouses and explained the reason of all this preparation, there wouldhave been no sleep in many families.

  The missionary party arrived promptly, and there were but two children,seven or eight having been left with the brethren in Portland, todiminish traveling expenses. Jane escorted them all upstairs, whileMiranda watched the cooking of the supper; but Rebecca promptly tookthe two little girls away from their mother, divested them of theirwraps, smoothed their hair, and brought them down to the kitchen tosmell the beans.

  There was a bountiful supper, and the presence of the young peoplerobbed it of all possible stiffness. Aunt Jane helped clear the tableand put away the food, while Miranda entertained in the parlor; butRebecca and the infant Burches washed the dishes and held high carnivalin the kitchen, doing only trifling damage--breaking a cup and platethat had been cracked before, emptying a silver spoon with somedishwater out of the back door (an act never permitted at the brickhouse), and putting coffee grounds in the sink. All evidences of crimehaving been removed by Rebecca, and damages repaired in all possiblecases, the three entered the parlor, where Mr. and Mrs. Cobb and Deaconand Mrs. Milliken had already appeared.

  It was such a pleasant evening! Occasionally they left the heathen inhis blindness bowing down to wood and stone, not for long, but just togive themselves (and him) time enough to breathe, and then the Burchestold strange, beautiful, marvelous things. The two smaller childrensang together, and Rebecca, at the urgent request of Mrs. Burch, seatedherself at the tinkling old piano and gave "Wild roved an Indian girl,bright Alfarata" with considerable spirit and style.

  At eight o'clock she crossed the room, handed a palm-leaf fan to heraunt Miranda, ostensibly that she might shade her eyes from thelamplight; but it was a piece of strategy that gave her an opportunityto whisper, "How about cookies?"

  "Do you think it's worth while?" sibilated Miss Miranda in answer.

  "The Perkinses always do."

  "All right. You know where they be."

  Rebecca moved quietly towards the door, and the young Burchescataracted after her as if they could not bear a second's separation.In five minutes they returned, the little ones bearing plates of thincaraway wafers,--hearts, diamonds, and circles daintily sugared, andflecked with caraway seed raised in the garden behind the house. Thesewere a specialty of Miss Jane's, and Rebecca carried a tray with sixtiny crystal glasses filled with dandelion wine, for which Miss Mirandahad been famous in years gone by. Old Deacon Israel had always had itpassed, and he had bought the glasses himself in Boston. Mirandaadmired them greatly, not only for their beauty but because they heldso little. Before their advent the dandelion wine had been served insherry glasses.

  As soon as these refreshments--commonly called a "colation" inRiverboro--had been genteelly partaken of, Rebecca looked at the clock,rose from her chair in the children's corner, and said cheerfully,"Come! time for little missionaries to be in bed!"

  Everybody laughed at this, the big missionaries most of all, as theyoung people shook hands and disappeared with Rebecca.