Timothy's Quest

by Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin

  SCENE X.

  _The Supper Table._

  AUNT HITTY COMES TO "MAKE OVER," AND SUPPLIES BACK NUMBERS TO ALL THEVILLAGE HISTORIES.

  Aunt Hitty, otherwise Mrs. Silas Tarbox, was as cheery and loquacious aperson as you could find in a Sabbath day's journey. She was armed witha substantial amount of knowledge at almost every conceivable point; butif an unexpected emergency ever did arise, her imagination was equal tothe strain put upon it and rose superior to the occasion. Yet of anevening, or on Sunday, she was no village gossip; it was only when youput a needle in her hand or a cutting-board in her lap that her memorystarted on its interminable journeyings through the fields of the past.She knew every biography and every "ought-to-be-ography" in the county,and could tell you the branches of every genealogical tree in thevillage.

  It was dusk at the White Farm, and a late supper was spread upon thehospitable board. (Aunt Hitty was always sure of a bountiful repast. Ifone were going to economize, one would not choose for that purpose theday when the village seamstress came to sew; especially when theaforesaid lady served the community in the stead of a local newspaper.)

  The children had eaten their bread and milk, and were out in the barnwith Jabe, watching the milking. Aunt Hitty was in a cheerful mood asshe reflected on her day's achievements. Out of Dr. Jonathan Cummins'old cape coat she had carved a pair of brief trousers and a vest forTimothy; out of Mrs. Jonathan Cummins' waterproof a serviceable jacket;and out of Deacon Abijah Cummins' linen duster an additional coat andvest for warm days. The owners of these garments had been dead manyyears, but nothing was ever thrown away (and, for that matter, verylittle given away) at the White Farm, and the ancient habiliments hadfinally been diverted to a useful purpose.

  "I hope I shall relish my vittles to-night," said Aunt Hitty, as shepoured her tea into her saucer, and set the cup in her little blue"cup-plate;" "but I've had the neuralgy so in my face that it's be'nmore 'n ten days sence I've be'n able to carry a knife to my mouth....Your meat vittles is always so tasty, Miss Cummins. I was sayin' to Mis'Sawyer last week I think she lets her beef hang too long. Its dretfultender, but I don't b'lieve its hullsome. For my part, as I've many atime said to Si, I like meat with some chaw to it.... Mis' Sawyer don'tput half enough vittles on her table. She thinks it scares folks; itdon't me a mite,--it makes me 's hungry as a wolf. When I set a tablefor comp'ny I pile on a hull lot, 'n' I find it kind o' discourages'em.... Mis' Southwick's hevin' a reg'lar brash o' house-cleanin'. She'stoo p'ison neat for any earthly use, that woman is. She's fixedclam-shell borders roun' all her garding beds, an' got enough left for apile in one corner, where she's goin' to set her oleander kag. Thenshe's bought a haircloth chair and got a new three-ply carpet in herparlor, 'n' put the old one in the spare-room 'n' the back-entry. Herdaughter's down here from New Haven. She's married into one of the firstfamilies o' Connecticut, Lobelia has, 'n' she puts on a good many airs.She's rigged out her mother's parlor with lace curtains 'n' one thing'n' 'other, 'n' wants it called the drawin'-room. Did ye ever hear tellsuch foolishness? 'Drawin'-room!' s' I to Si; 'what's it goin' to draw?Nothin' but flies, I guess likely!' ... Mis' Pennell's got a new girl tohelp round the house,--one o' them pindlin' light-complected Smithgirls, from the Swamp,--look's if they was nussed on bonny-clabber.She's so hombly I sh'd think 't would make her back ache to carry herhead round. She ain't very smart, neither. Her mother sent word she'dpick up 'n' do better when she got her growth. That made Mis' Pennellhoppin' mad. She said she didn't cal'late to pay a girl three shillin'sa week for growin'. Mis' Pennell's be'n feelin' consid'able slim, or shewouldn't 'a' hired help; it's just like pullin' teeth for Deacon Pennellto pay out money for anything like that. He watches every mouthful thegirl puts into her mouth, 'n' it's made him 'bout down sick to see herfleshin' up on his vittles.... They say he has her put the mornin'coffee-groun's to dry on the winder-sill, 'n' then has 'em scalt overfor dinner; but, there! I don' know 's there's a mite o' truth in it,so I won't repeat it. They went to him to git a subscription for the newhearse the other day. Land sakes! we need one bad enough. I thought forsure, at the last funeral we had, that they'd never git Mis' Strout tothe graveyard safe and sound. I kep' a-thinkin' all the way how she'd'a' took on, if she'd be'n alive. She was the most timersome woman 'tever was. She was a Thomson, 'n' all the Thomsons was scairt at theirown shadders. Ivory Strout rid right behind the hearse, 'n' he says hisheart was in his mouth the hull durin' time for fear 't would breakdown. He didn't git much comfort out the occasion, I guess! Wa' n't hemad he hed to ride in the same buggy with his mother-in-law! Theminister planned it all out, 'n' wrote down the order o' the mourners,'n' passeled him out with old Mis' Thomson. I was stan'in' close by, 'n'I heard him say he s'posed he could go that way if he must, but 't wouldspile the hull blamed thing for him! ... Well, as I was sayin', theseleckmen went to Deacon Pennell to get a contribution towards buyin'the new hearse; an' do you know, he wouldn't give 'em a dollar? He told'em he gave five dollars towards the other one, twenty years ago, 'n'hadn't never got a cent's worth o' use out of it. That's Deacon Pennellall over! As Si says, if the grace o' God wa'n't given to all of uswithout money 'n' without price, you wouldn't never hev ketched DeaconPennell experiencin' religion! It's got to be a free gospel 't wouldconvict him o' sin, that's certain! ... They say Seth Thatcher's marriedout in Iowy. His mother's tickled 'most to death. She heerd he wassettin' up with a girl out there, 'n' she was scairt to death for fearhe'd get served as Lemuel 'n' Cyrus was. The Thatcher boys never hed anyluck gettin' married, 'n' they always took disappointments in loveturrible hard. You know Cyrus set in that front winder o' Mis'Thatcher's, 'n' rocked back 'n' forth for ten year, till he wore outfive cane-bottomed cheers, 'n' then rocked clean through, down cellar,all on account o' Crany Ann Sweat. Well, I hope she got her comeuppancein another world,--she never did in this; she married well 'n' lived inBoston.... Mis' Thatcher hopes Seth 'll come home to live. She's dretfullonesome in that big house, all alone. She'd oughter have somebody for acompany-keeper. She can't see nothin' but trees 'n' cows from herwinders.... Beats all, the places they used to put houses.... Eitherthey'd get 'em right under foot so 't you'd most tread on 'em when youwalked along the road, or else they'd set 'em clean back in a lane,where the women folks couldn't see face o' clay week in 'n' week out....

  "Joel Whitten's widder's just drawed his pension along o' his bein' inthe war o' 1812. ... It's took 'em all these years to fix it. ... Massysakes! don't some folks have their luck buttered in this world?... Shewas his fourth wife, 'n' she never lived with him but thirteen days'fore he up 'n' died. ... It doos seem's if the guv'ment might lookafter things a little mite closer.... Talk about Joel Whitten's bein' inthe war o' 1812! Everybody knows Joel Whitten wouldn't have fit askeeter! He never got any further 'n Scratch Corner, any way, 'n' therehe clim a tree or hid behind a hen-coop somewheres till the regiment gotout o' sight.... Yes: one, two, three, four,--Huldy was his fourth wife.His first was a Hogg, from Hoggses Mills. The second was DorcasDoolittle, aunt to Jabe Slocum; she didn't know enough to make soap,Dorcas didn't.... Then there was Delia Weeks, from the lower corner....She didn't live long.... There was some thin' wrong with Delia.... Shewas one o' the thin-blooded, white-livered kind.... You couldn't get herwarm, no matter how hard you tried. ... She'd set over a roarin' fire inthe cook-stove even in the prickliest o' the dog-days. ... Themill-folks used to say the Whittens burnt more cut-roun's 'n' stickens'n any three fam'lies in the village. ... Well, after Delia died, thencome Huldy's turn, 'n' it's she, after all, that's drawed thepension.... Huldy took Joel's death consid'able hard, but I guess she'llperk up, now she's come int' this money. ... She's awful leaky-minded,Huldy is, but she's got tender feelin's.... One day she happened in atnoon-time, 'n' set down to the table with Si 'n' I.... All of a suddentshe bust right out cryin' when Si was offerin' her a piece o' tripe, 'n'then it come out that she couldn't never bear the sight o' tripe, itreminded her so of Joel! It seems tripe was a favorite dish o' Joel's.All his wives cooked
it firstrate.... Jabe Slocum seems to setconsid'able store by them children, don't he?... I guess he'll neverketch up with his work, now he's got them hangin' to his heels.... Hedoos beat all for slowness! Slocum's a good name for him, that'scertain. An' 's if that wa'n't enough, his mother was a Stillwell, 'n'her mother was a Doolittle!... The Doolittles was the slowest fam'ly inLincoln County. (Thank you, I'm well helped, Samanthy.) Old CyrusDoolittle was slower 'n a toad funeral. He was a carpenter by trade, 'n'he was twenty-five years buildin' his house; 'n' it warn't no great,either.... The stagin' was up ten or fifteen years, 'n' he shingled itfour or five times before he got roun', for one patch o' shingles usedto wear out 'fore he got the next patch on. He 'n' Mis' Doolittle livedin two rooms in the L. There was elegant banisters, but no stairs to'em, 'n' no entry floors. There was a tip-top cellar, but there wa'n'tno way o' gittin' down to it, 'n' there wa'n't no conductors to thecisterns. There was only one door panel painted in the parlor. Landsakes! the neighbors used to happen in 'bout every week for years 'n'years, hopin' he'd get another one finished up, but he never did,--notto my knowledge.... Why, it's the gospel truth that when Mis' Doolittledied he had to have her embalmed, so 't he could git the front doorhung for the fun'ral! (No more tea, I thank you; my cup ain't out.) ...Speakin' o' slow folks, Elder Banks tells an awful good story 'bout JabeSlocum.... There's another man down to Edgewood, Aaron Peek by name,that's 'bout as lazy as Jabe. An' one day, when the loafers roun' thestore was talkin' 'bout 'em, all of a suddent they see the two of 'emstartin' to come down Marm Berry's hill, right in plain sight of thestore.... Well, one o' the Edgewood boys bate one o' the Pleasant Riverboys that they could tell which one of 'em was the laziest by the waythey come down that hill.... So they all watched, 'n' bime by, when Jabewas most down to the bottom of the hill, they was struck all of a heapto see him break into a kind of a jog trot 'n' run down the balance o'the way. Well, then, they fell to quarrelin'; for o' course the PleasantRiver folks said Aaron Peek was the laziest, 'n' the Edgewood boysdeclared he hedn't got no such record for laziness's Jabe Slocum hed;an' when they was explainin' of it, one way 'n' 'nother, Elder Bankscome along, 'n' they asked him to be the judge. When he heerd tell how't was, he said he agreed with the Edgewood folks that Jabe was lazier'n Aaron. 'Well, I snum, I don't see how you make that out,' says thePleasant River boys; 'for Aaron walked down, 'n' Jabe run a piece o' theway.' 'If Jabe Slocum run,' says the elder, as impressive as if he waspreachin',--'if Jabe Slocum ever run, then 't was because he was _toodoggoned lazy to hold back!_ 'an' that settled it!... (No, I couldn'teat another mossel, Miss Cummins; I've made out a splendid supper.) ...You can't git such pie 'n' doughnuts anywhere else in the village, 'n'what I say I mean.... Do you make your riz doughnuts with emptin's? Iwant to know! Si says there's more faculty in cookin' flour food thanthere is in meat-victuals, 'n' I guess he's 'bout right."

  * * * * *

  It was bedtime, and Timothy was in his little room carrying on the mostelaborate and complicated plots for reading the future. It must be knownthat Jabe Slocum was as full of signs as a Farmer's Almanac, and he hadgiven Timothy more than one formula for attaining his secretdesires,--old, well-worn recipes for luck, which had been tried forgenerations in Pleasant River, and which were absolutely "certain" intheir results. The favorites were:--

  "Star bright, star light, First star I've seen to-night, Wish I may, wish I might, Get the wish I wish to-night;"

  and one still more impressive:--

  "Four posts upon my bed, Four corners overhead; Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, Bless the bed I _lay_ upon. Matthew, John, Luke, and Mark, Grant my wish and keep it dark."

  These rhymes had been chanted with great solemnity, and Timothy sat bythe open window in the sweet darkness of the summer night, wishing thathe and Gay might stay forever in this sheltered spot. "I'll make a signof my very own," he thought. "I'll get Gay's ankle-tie, and put it onthe window-sill, with the toe pointing out. Then I'll wish that if weare going to stay at the White Farm, the angels will turn it around,'toe in' to the room, for a sign to me; and if we've got to go, I'llwish they may leave it the other way; and, oh dear, but I'm glad it's solittle and easy to move; and then I'll say Matthew, Mark, Luke, andJohn, four times over, without stopping, as Jabe told me to, and thensee how it turns out in the morning." ...

  But the incantation was more soothing than the breath of Miss Vilda'sscarlet poppies, and before the magical verse had fallen upon the drowsyair for the third time, Timothy was fast asleep, with a smile of hope onhis parted lips.

  There was a sweet summer shower in the night. The soft breezes, freshfrom shaded dells and nooks of fern, fragrant with the odor of pine andvine and wet wood-violets, blew over the thirsty meadows and goldenstubble-fields, and brought an hour of gentle rain.

  It sounded a merry tintinnabulation on Samantha's milk-pans, wafted thescent of dripping honeysuckle into the farmhouse windows, and drenchedthe night-caps in which prudent farmers had dressed their haycocks.

  Next morning, the green world stood on tiptoe to welcome the victorioussun, and every little leaf shone as a child's eyes might shine at theremembrance of a joy just past.

  A meadow lark perched on a swaying apple-branch above Martha's grave,and poured out his soul in grateful melody; and Timothy, wakened byNature's sweet good-morning, leaped from the too fond embrace of MissVilda's feather-bed.... And lo, a miracle!... The woodbine clung closeto the wall beneath his window. It was tipped with strong young shootsreaching out their innocent hands to cling to any support that offered;and one baby tendril that seemed to have grown in a single night, sodelicate it was, had somehow been blown by the sweet night wind from itsdrooping place on the parent vine, and, falling on the window-sill, hadcurled lovingly round Gay's fairy shoe, and held it fast!