CHAPTER III
I always did admire surprises, my diary, so when mother came in fromthe station one day not long ago and said there was a surprise for meI thought sure it must be a dessert for dinner, or a package come byexpress, as it isn't Christmas for anything to be in the toe of mystocking. But mother shook her head and smiled at all of these. Shesaid it was a heap better, and it is.
A curious thing has happened in this family. It's happened a little tofather, for he's kept awake by it; a good deal to mother, for she hasto tell how to tend to it; an awful lot to Dilsey, for she has to walkit and feed it and get it to sleep; but it has happened most of all toBertha, for it's to _her_ that the stork (or the doctor, or out ofthe rose bush--they tell you so many different tales you never knowwhich to believe) brought it. Just about that time Bertha happened notto be feeling very well, so mother wrote for her to come down to ourhouse where the air would be good for her, and then she would haveDilsey to tend to it. You'd never guess what it is, my diary, so I'lltell you. It's a baby! A live one with open and shut eyes, and cancry; you don't have to pull a string to make it, either. This makes itbetter than even the finest doll, and, as I'm above dolls anyhow, ababy is more suitable to one of my age. The only bad part about it isthat you can't lock it up in the wardrobe when you get through playingwith it. Sometimes I have wished it was the kind you had to pull astring to make cry, and then I'd cut the string off so we would have afew peaceful nights, but apt as not this wouldn't be healthy for it,for I guess the stork (or the doctor, or out of the rose bush) knewbest how to fix it.
Mr. Parkes is the baby's father, and also Bertha's husband. He is oneof the nicest men you ever saw, pleasant all the time, which peoplesay is because he's a drummer which sells things. He carries valisesfull of lovely crackers and little cakes with icing on the top, andcalls it his "line." I've heard Rufe and Cousin Eunice talk about"lines falling in pleasant places," and I think it must mean somethinglike this, for our house has been a pleasant place since Saturdaynight when he came to spend Sunday with us and Bertha. Some days hesells as much as five hundred dollars worth of cake to _one_ man,though I don't see what keeps him from _dying_ that bought them ofstomach ache, for I've had it myself since he's been hereconsiderable. He and father talk a heap about Mr. Parkes' "house" inthe city. He writes to the house every day and it writes back to him,and he is always saying what he'll do "when he hears from the house,"just like it was folks.
He wears an elk's head on the lapel of his coat for an ornament andanother on his watch chain, and even has a pair of purple socks withwhite elks on them, and laughs a good deal, which has been a benefitto Bertha's disposition since she married him. If the baby wakes upand cries for her bottle as late as _eleven_ o'clock at night, whichwould give most men room to say things, he's just as jolly as if itwas broad daylight, and says so loud you can hear him in the nextroom: "Tonsound her little skin! Her is her daddy's own kid--_her_knows that eleven o'clock calls for a bottle, only daddy wants _his_cold, and her wants _hers_ warmed!" And out to the kitchen he goes andwarms it like a gentleman. I believe Mr. Parkes would be a gentlemaneven if he had _twins_.
Of course there never is any good happens to your family withoutsomething bad happening along with it. A misfortune was sent to us onemorning when the train came. It was Aunt Laura, mother's sister, andBertha's and my aunt. It is a habit of hers to come to our houseevery summer, but this time she came before we were looking for her,having got mad at the relatives where she was. So she has changed herwill and is going to leave all her money to Bertha's baby, and shetold mother that she came right on down as soon as she decided on thisto see if the baby was a nice, well-behaved child, as it didn't run inthe family for the children to be any too well-behaved; and she lookedat me when she said the last. Bertha was in a flutter when she heardit, but mother just laughed and said the baby was equally aswell-behaved as most eight-weeks-old children.
Aunt Laura has spit-curls, but a great deal of money, having been aschool teacher ever since she was born, and never spending her moneybuying her little nieces candy and pretty dresses. She admires churchand preachers more than anything, but I don't, and when the money waswilled to _me_ one time I lost my chance by saying at the table whenBrother Sheffield was there eating chicken and said he liked thegizzard, right quick, before I thought of manners, "Father, don'tgive it to him--_he_ ain't little!" The money has been willed to everymember of the family, for she gets mad at one and unwills it away fromthem onto another, until we've all had a trial.
But the poetry books say it's a black cloud that don't blow somebody asilver lining, and I guess the silver lining to Aunt Laura is thatshe's in love with Brother Sheffield, which will give me a good manynew thoughts to write about; for before when I was writing aboutcouples it was always the man that was trying to marry the lady, butnow it's the other way, which you can always count on when you seespit-curls. Even this is better to write about than just a baby,though, for they mostly do the same thing day after day; but you cannever tell what a _loving_ person will do to thrill your diary.
It was till plumb breakfast time this morning before Aunt Laura madeknown to us what new thing she's got up to talk about all the time.Father calls it a "fad." He said the minute he saw her come he waswilling to bet on anything, from the latest breakfast food to an AuntySaloon League, but mother told him it was sinful to bet about suchthings, for last summer it was foreign missions. It is just as wellthat he didn't bet, for he would have lost, it being the heart diseasewhich she has very bad. She said she didn't tell us right at firstbecause she knew we didn't care anything about hearing it, but shethought we better be prepared in case a spell came on her suddenly,for she had felt worse symptoms lately than ever before. Bertha hadacted awful good all day and not let the baby cry nor slobber on AuntLaura for the sake of the will.
I guess I've been worse this last week than ever before, for it is thefirst time I've been ashamed to tell what I've done in my diary.Bertha knows if Aunt Laura could get Brother Sheffield to marry hershe would unwill the money from the baby; so she thinks up things totell me to do to keep them from being together, and I've been doingthem. One time I hid her purple Sunday bonnet, then her curls to keepher from going to prayer-meeting, but I'm glad to say that I havenever taken the dimes which Bertha said she would give me for doingthem. I hate Aunt Laura enough to do mean things to her myself, whichis a better principle than to do them just for dimes.
This is Sunday again and I have to go to church. Somehow, during thesummer, Sunday smells like black silk, for mother and all the ladiesthat can afford it wear it to church to let the others see how welloff they are. When I was _right_ little and got tee-ninsy cards atSunday-school I imagined Heaven looked like those cards, alllilies-of-the-valley and little pink lambs, but since I've grown oldermy views have changed. Preachers always think you can't go to Heavenunless you do just like they do, and I couldn't be like a preacher tosave my life, except about chicken.
Aunt Laura had to look all over the place for her black silk waistthis morning and then not find it, so she got into a bad spell andcouldn't go to church. After the sermon was over and we were trying toforget it by standing around and telling the other ladies how muchfruit we had put up this past week, Brother Sheffield came up andasked mother if Aunt Laura was sick, not being out to services. Mothersaid she was, but she hoped to find her all right when we got home, asshe never was sick very long, and I knew she would be well because itwas ice-cream for dinner. He said then he'd be over to see her thisafternoon as he hadn't seen her in so long.
Well, it was awfully hot all the afternoon, and, as he wouldn't beover till late so as to be invited to supper, Aunt Laura decided totake off her front hair and have a nap after dinner. Now, up to thistime I have been afraid to mention even in my diary about Bertha'sbad habit. I really like Bertha better than I did before she wasmarried, and I knew if Aunt Laura was to catch on to it she wouldchange from the baby right away, for Brother Sheffield calls it "thetrade-mark of Jezebel,"
which is a Bible lady, though the preachersalways throw her up to anybody they don't like. So Bertha keeps thislocked away good in the little left-handed drawer of her bureau, anddon't anybody but me know it's there.
It was getting late when brother Sheffield drove up to the gate. He isan old man and his knees are so poor that they look like they wouldpunch through his trousers legs if he was to get down on them to ask alady to marry him, as they do in books. In fact, I have stayed aroundthe parlor and watched considerable, thinking how mortified I'd feelif they were to punch through, but he hasn't ever got down on themyet. His name is Gideon, which makes it worse for him, too. CousinEunice said Ann Lisbeth's name is a very old one in the countryacross the ocean where she used to live, but I know there ain't anolder name on earth than Gideon. Aunt Laura ought to have been namedthe feminine of it, instead of that beautiful name that has so muchlovely poetry written about it.
Anyhow, I was surprised that she wasn't dressed up in a clean waistand down on the front porch to meet him, but I went up-stairs rightquick to tell her he was there. She was still asleep and woke up asmad and red as folks always do that go to sleep in the summer. I toldher he was already on the porch.
"Well, help me get dressed, won't you, instead of standing therestaring at me as if you never saw anybody with their front hair offand their upper plate out before? Run to the well and bring me somefresh water, and, say, come back by your mother's room and bring meher box of powder and puff. I spilt all of mine looking in the drawerthis morning for that pestiferous waist. Hurry!"
I ran to the well and got the water, but coming back by mother's roomI saw that Brother Sheffield was facing the door and would have seenme, which wouldn't have been nice to bring out a box and puff before aman, much less a preacher, so I didn't get the powder. I told AuntLaura to get Bertha's, when she commenced fussing, for I had passedher room and saw that she had dressed in a big hurry and left thebureau unlocked, the room being very hot and dark, the baby beingasleep, on account of the flies. She hushed then and said for me to godown and tell him that she would be out in a few minutes, which I did.I left him on the porch fanning while I went out to a little place Ihave under the porch where it is nice and quiet and they can't findyou reading fairy tales when they want you for something; but _you_can hear _them_ talking.
Pretty soon Aunt Laura came out, and in her dressed-up voice commencedtelling him how sorry she was that she kept him waiting. But beforeshe had more than got it said he asked her excited-like what was thematter with her. It seemed like when he got excited she did too, soshe grabbed her stomach (not that I saw her, but I know she alwaysdoes it here lately when she gets mad or scared) and said:
"Oh, my heart! It must be the heart disease!"
He interrupted her again, a heap too quick and sharp for a preacher:
"Your heart _nothing_! Go and look at your _face_!"
That was more than I could stand, so out from under the porch I slid,just in time to see Aunt Laura, with her face as red as the Indiansthey have in sideshows, turn and run into the hall where she couldlook at herself in the hat-rack looking-glass. She gave one tremendousyell which woke the baby and made the rest of the family come flyingin from where they were. It wasn't a minute before me and BrotherSheffield were in the hall with her and mother and father running inoff of the back porch, and Dilsey with the baby in her arms leaningover the banisters to see what was the matter.
"It's my death stroke," Aunt Laura said, just like she knew what shewas talking about. "The doctor's books say it comes on this way," shekept on, while the preacher fanned her and we were all flying arounddoing things for her, and me standing still wondering how on earthcome her face so fiery red. "Thank Heaven, I die in the conviction ofhaving lived a good life, _and_ willed all my money to the only memberof my family that has ever treated me with any respect." This did lookkinder like the truth, for the baby was the only member of the familywhich was crying over this sad occasion; but she was very loud andhard.
"I've been visited by Providence with a curious family," poor AuntLaura said, looking very mad toward father and mother, "but they willsoon have cause to regret all their strange ways with me. If there was_one_ person in this world that _did_ care for me, to _that_ oneshould my will be changed, for there is little consolation in leavingyour property to a baby."
Brother Sheffield here spoke up and said as Aunt Laura "so fullyrealized her hopeless condition he thought they better have someconversation together as to her spiritual welfare. He desired a fewmoments alone with her."
"Yes," said Aunt Laura right quick, "_private_ conversation. My soul'ssafety is not to be discussed in the presence of my enemies!"
So out we all got, me along with the rest of them, which was a greatdisappointment, for I could have learned a good deal if there had beenany way of staying in there. They talked a long time and we could heara few remarks now and then, being as we couldn't think of anything tosay ourselves, and it was very still on the porch. Once or twice weheard her say very decided-like that indeed she _wasn't_ mistaken, forevery book she had read on the subject said it was exactly that kindof a symptom. And then he would talk some, and one time he seemed todoubt her word so that she fairly yelled out, the way she does whenhe ain't around: "Can you doubt the hideous mark of death that hasthis hour appeared upon my face? Isn't it proof that my flesh is beingprepared for the worms?" which _did_ sound pitiful and scary, too, itbeing kinder dark on the porch. This seemed to do the work, for in afew minutes she called us in and told us that Brother Sheffield hadasked her to marry him, and although she had never before consideredhim in the light of a lover, still she was going to do it if the Lordlet her live an hour, while father could ride over for a preacher andshe could change her will. Brother Sheffield was crying like he doeswhen he is calling mourners, and his voice would hardly talk, but hemanaged to say:
"Yes, she has done me the honor to accept me; she, a woman ofintellect and _wealth_, and me, only a poor, humble worker----" Hecouldn't get any further, but I had heard it so many times before thatI knew it was "humble worker of the vineyard," though father says heis more of a _hungry_ eater of the _barnyard_.
When Aunt Laura mentioned about being married in an hour BrotherSheffield seemed to take a second thought, and spoke up kinder weakand said he didn't know whether it was exactly right to be married onSunday or not. When Aunt Laura saw him begin to weaken it brought onsuch a hard spell that she laid back on the sofa with her eyes shut,like she was sure enough dead. This really scared mother, and she toldMammy Lou, who had her head poked in at the back door, to run for somewater. Mammy brought the bucket in off the back porch and commencedsousing it over Aunt Laura by the handsful, which didn't bring her to;but a strange thing happened, which, if it wasn't me that saw it,anybody would think it was a story, but I cross my heart that thewater that dribbled down off her face on to her clean waist was_pink_!
"Jumping Jerusalem!" father said, "the heart disease is washing off!"This made Aunt Laura open her eyes, and by that time Mammy Lou had gota towel and was wiping her face off all over, which seemed to make itlook natural again. Not one of us knew what to think of such a strangedisease till all of a sudden I remembered Bertha's bad habit! And thenI knew it was all off with Aunt Laura and the marrying. It wasn't verylong till they all caught on to what it was on her face; and the worstpart of it was that Brother Sheffield said he believed she did it_a-purpose_. He rose up very proud, and looking kinder relieved andsaid he could never marry a woman who would "defile herself with thetrade-mark of Jezebel."
When he commenced throwing up Jezebel to Aunt Laura she threw up Esauto him, which sold himself for a "mess of pottage," though this neverdid sound lady-like to me, even coming from the pulpit. So Esau wentout and drove straight home, and Jezebel went up-stairs and packed hertrunk to go home early in the morning, never having been so insultedby relatives before in her life.
So the marrying is off and the baby is disinherited, which will be arelief to it when it gets big enough to u
nderstand. But the worst partis that Aunt Laura blames the whole thing on me, for she says I hadher ruination in mind when I sicked her on to that little left-handeddrawer. Of course it ain't so, but it proves that people ought toraise the blind and be sure it's _whitening_ they're spreading on,even if the baby is asleep.
The Annals of Ann Page 3