CHAPTER VII.
A VISIT.
"DO you think we could go to Middleville to-day?" Kathie asked, onebright Saturday morning.
It was a sharp, keen winter's day, but the roads had been worn tolerablysmooth with the sleighing, and it was by far too cold for alternatefreezing and thawing; but the sky was of a clear, steely blue, and thesun as brilliant as a midwinter's sun could be.
"If you did not mind the cold. What is your opinion, Dora?"--turning toMrs. Alston.
"I suppose you could stand it if you were wrapped up good and warm."
"Would you take the buggy?" asked Aunt Ruth.
"O yes!" answered Kathie, eagerly; "I cannot bear to be shut up in aclose prison, as if I was being taken off somewhere for my misdeeds."
"It will be a good deal colder."
Uncle Robert laughed as he met Kathie's mirthful eyes.
"I shall not freeze, auntie. I like the sensation of this strong, freshwind blowing square into my face; it takes the cobwebs out of mybrains."
So the ponies had orders, and pricked up their ears as if they wererather interested in trying the bracing wind as well.
Kathie bundled herself up quite to mamma's liking. She slipped a littleparcel under the seat,--two books that she had read time and again, andwhich she fancied might interest Sarah, and a few other little matters,the giving of which depended upon circumstances.
They said good by, and were off. "Up in the mountains" was always spokenof rather sneeringly by the Brookside community. They really were notmountains, but a succession of rough, rocky hills, where the vegetationwas neither lovely nor abundant. Several different species of cedar,scrubby oaks, and stunted hemlocks, were the principal variety, with amatted growth of underbrush; and as there were many finer "woods" aroundBrookside, these were seldom haunted by pleasure-lovers orwonder-seekers.
The dwellers therein were of the oldest-fashioned kind. You couldalways tell them when they came to shop at Brookside by their queerbonnets and out-of-date garments, as well as by the wonderful contrastof colors. But the small settlements enjoyed their own manner of livingand their own social pleasures as thoroughly as their more refinedneighbors.
For quite a stretch the road was level and good, then the ascent began,the houses were wider apart, and with an air of indifference as to paintand repairs, while fences seemed to be vainly trying to hold each otherup.
The ponies were fresh and frisky, and did not mind the tug. Kathie wassilent for the most part, her brain in a kind of floating confusion, notat all unpleasant, but rather restful.
"Now, which is the back road, I wonder?" said Uncle Robert, slowly,checking the horses a trifle.
Both roads were exceedingly dreary-looking, but they decided to take theone farther north, and before they had gone a quarter of a mile they meta team, driven by a young lad.
"Is this Middleville?" asked Uncle Robert.
"Yes."
"Which is the back road?"
"Keep straight along. You're right."
"Where does Mr. Jotham Strong live?"
"Over there in that yaller house," the boy answered, nodding his head.
The place began to take on quite a village look. There was a brown,weather-beaten meeting-house, a small country store, and housesscattered around at intervals. Some were quite tidy-looking, but themost had a kind of dilapidated air.
Mr. Strong's was large and roomy on the ground-floor, as numerousadditions had been made on three sides of the building. There was adoor-yard in front, where in summer they must have an abundance ofroses, and two wide flower-beds down the path. Such signs went toKathie's heart at once.
Uncle Robert sprang out and knocked at the door. The hard-featured facethat Kathie remembered so well in connection with the purple bonnetpeered through the kitchen window.
The child would have laughed at the commotion inside, if she could haveseen it,--how Sary Ann dragged the floating ends of her hair into aknot, caught up a towel and wiped her face, making it redder thanbefore, jerked down her sleeves, which, having neither hooks norbuttons, hung round her wrists.
She stared as she opened the door to a strange man, but glanced past himto the carriage.
"I have brought Miss Kathie Alston up to see you," Mr. Conoverannounced, in his warm, cheerful voice, for he recognized Sarah fromKathie's graphic description.
"O my! and I'm all in a heap; but I'm so glad!" and she ran out to thewagon, but stopped at the gate with a sudden sensation of bashfulness,and a wonder if she ought not to have said something more to thegentleman.
"How do you do, Sarah?" Kathie's voice was like the softest of silverbells pealing on the frosty air.
"O, I'm so glad! I didn't hardly believe you'd come. I looked lastSat'day. Your letter was so nice. I'm glad you liked the lichen. Jim andme hunted over hundreds of 'em, and found the very biggest. Do get outand come in the house; you must be perished! Is that the uncle you wroteabout in your letter?"
"Yes." Uncle Robert had come down the path by this time. "My uncle, Mr.Conover," Kathie said, gracefully, "and Miss Sarah Strong."
Sarah made a dash at her hair again as if she was afraid of its tumblingdown, and courtesied to Uncle Robert so in the style of a countryschool-girl that he smiled inwardly. "O, coax her to get out!" sheexclaimed, appealingly. "I've got a fire all ready to light in the bestroom, and I want you to see my pictures,"--with a very long emphasis onthe last syllable. "Mother 'xpects you to stay to dinner, and mySat'day's work is 'most done. Come in,--do."
By this time Mrs. Strong had made herself tidy and appeared at the halldoor.
"Come in," she exclaimed, cordially,--"come in. Sary Ann, show thegentleman how to drive right down to the barn. Jim's there thrashin' andhe'll see to the hosses!"
Kathie was handed out. Sarah turned the horses to face the path to thebarn.
"Down there," she said. "Steve, come here!"
Steve, thirteen or thereabout, sheepishly obeyed, and took the rest ofhis sister's order in silence.
"Don't you go," said Mrs. Strong to Mr. Conover. "There's boys enough tothe barn, and they know all about hosses. Come in an' get warm. You mustbe about froze! I'm right glad to see you, child."
Kathie introduced Uncle Robert again. They were marshalled into a large,uncarpeted kitchen, full of youngsters, with a great red-hot stove intheir midst.
"Get out of the way, childern! Sary Ann, run light the fire in theparlor while they're gettin' warm."
"It is not worth while to take that trouble," returned Uncle Robert. "Wecame up for a call, but judged it best to take the pleasantest part ofsuch a cold day. So do not let us interfere with your usualarrangements."
"You ain't a goin' to stir a step until after dinner. Sary'll be awfuldisapp'inted. We've plenty of everything, and you won't put us out abit. We've been looking for you, like, ever sence Sary Ann had herletter. Take off your things, child! Ain't your feet half froze?"
"O no."
There was no resisting, however. Mrs. Strong talked and worked, tumbledover the children, picked them up and set them on chairs, bidding themkeep out of the way, insisted that Kathie should sit beside the roastingstove, and presently Sarah returned. She had brushed her hair into amore respectable shape, and tied a most unnecessary scarlet ribbon init, seeing that the hair was of a sandy reddish color.
But her clean calico dress certainly did improve her. Yet as she enteredthe room she was seized with a fit of awkward bashfulness.
"I believe I will go out and look at the ponies," remarked Mr. Conover.
"Mind they're put out. You're not going to stir a step till you've hadyour dinner. Marthy, you peel them taters; quick now." This to a ratherpretty girl of ten, who had been writing with a pin on the steamedwindow-pane.
"Come in the other room," said Sarah to Kathie.
The child followed. It was not very warm yet, but there was a greatcrackling, blazing fire upon the hearth, which was a delightful picturein itself.
Sarah stood and viewed her guest w
onderingly. The long golden curls, theclear, fine complexion, the neat-fitting dress, the small white hands,and the dainty kid boots, were all marvels to her.
"You're very rich," she said, presently, in a peculiar manner, as if shecould almost find it in her heart to envy Kathie and grow discontentedwith herself. Kathie's fine sense and tact detected it.
She stretched out her hand and took Sarah's,--a little rough, but softand plump. "My uncle is," she answered; "he is very good to us children.My father died when I was a tiny little girl."
"Did he?" Sarah knelt down, and began to wind the silken curls over herfinger. "But you are so--so different. You don't have to work,--do you?"
"A little," and Kathie smiled.
"What! a lady like you? Don't you keep servants? For Jim said the placewas like a palace!"
"We keep one servant only, and a gardener. Mamma thinks it right thatevery one should learn to be useful."
"But if I was rich I wouldn't do a thing! I actually wouldn't."
"I am afraid you would soon get tired of idleness."
"O, I'd have books, and read, and paint pictures, and a pianny--"
"Piano," corrected Kathie, gravely, as if she had been a teacher withher class.
Sarah turned scarlet, then gave a little embarrassed laugh. "I never canget the words all right. They do plague me so; but I haven't been toschool for two years. Mother wanted me home, for Martha was so little.That's why I'd like to be a lady, and know just what was right to do andsay. I thought you was so elegant that night!"
"There are a great many 'ladies,' as you call them, much poorer thanyou; and some rich people who are coarse and ignorant."
"There ain't only two or three men in Middleville any richer thanfather. He owns sights of land and timber, but he thinks that if you canread and write and cipher a little it is enough. I don't suppose I couldever be as nice as you are, though,"--with a sadness in her tone and alonging in her eyes.
"In what respect?" Kathie smiled encouragingly.
"Well--to talk as you do. I thought that night at the Fair that it wasjust like a story-book or music. I know I'm always makin' mistakes."
"Then you must try to be careful. Does not your teacher correct you?"
"Well, I am learning a little; but it seems to be such hard work. Howdid you do it?"
"I have always been sent to school, and then my mother has taken a gooddeal of pains with me. It seems unfortunate that people should fall intosuch careless habits of pronouncing, and oftentimes of spelling."
"Was my letter all right?" Sarah asked, with quick apprehension. "Itried so hard, and wrote it over ever so many times."
"I let my uncle read it, and he said he had seen letters from olderwomen that would hardly bear comparison. There were very few mistakes init."
Kathie's honesty impelled her to say this, though under somecircumstances she would have uttered no comment.
"Tell me what they were. I think I could do better now."
"Do you really wish me to?"
"Yes, I do," with a good deal of rising color.
"Your pronoun I, when you speak of yourself, must always be acapital,--never a small i, and dotted."
"But how can you tell?"
"It is a personal pronoun, and is never used in any other way. A singleI must always be a capital."
"Always! I'll be sure to remember that," Sarah answered, with greatearnestness; "and what else?"
"Christmas wasn't quite right. That begins with a capital, because it isa proper name, and the first syllable is spelled just like Christ."
"Is it? Why, I never thought! and I've seen it so many times too. Whatother mistakes were there?"
"I really cannot remember," said Kathie, laughing; and she spoke thetruth. "The lichen was so lovely, Uncle Robert put it up in the library.Where do you find such beautiful specimens?"
"Over in the swamp, about a mile south of here. There are so many prettythings. Do you know Indian pipe?"
"Yes!" exclaimed Kathie, with a touch of enthusiasm.
"Isn't it lovely?--just as if it was cut out of white wax. I like to gorambling round to find all manner of odd things; but I never thought ofputting them up anywhere, or making frames. O, come see mine!"
Both girls rose, and Kathie really took her first survey of the parlor.There was a dull-colored ingrain carpet on the floor, the flowers ofwhich ran all over it; a square, stiff-backed sofa, studded with brassnails; some rush-bottomed chairs, two old family portraits, and a pairof high brass candlesticks on the mantelpiece.
But above this Sarah had hung her two pictures, and put up the lichenbrackets.
"I couldn't make my frame as pretty as yours," she said; "and I brokeever so many straws."
"But you succeeded very well, I think."
"And I made this. I took the picture out of a book."
It was a moss frame, very neatly manufactured, but the picture was arather coarsely colored fashion-plate.
"I do love pictures so! I wish I had a whole houseful! And if I couldonly make 'em myself,--them, I mean," coloring, and correcting herspeech.
"I have brought you two more--O, they were left in the wagon!--and somebooks."
Sarah's eyes sparkled. "Would you mind running out? The boys have somerabbits down to the barn, and there's a great swing,--O, and loads ofnuts! Do you ever go chestnutting?"
"I have been, but there are not a great many trees around Brookside."
"Here's a shawl; just wrap yourself head and ears in it. We're goingdown to the barn, mother."
They found Uncle Robert entertaining Jim and Steve, the latter of whomsat in wide-eyed astonishment; but the entrance of the girls broke upthe conclave.
Sarah took, Kathie all round, showed her Whitefoot and Jenny, both ofwhom whinnied gratefully. Then there was the beautiful little Durhamheifer that Jim was raising, hens of every variety, the rabbits, theloft strewn with corn, nuts, and strings, and packages of seeds.
Then Kathie must swing. Steve pushed her until the dainty kid bootstouched the beam, and she experienced the sensation of standing upon herhead.
In the midst of this a shrill blast from a horn reached their ears.Kathie started.
"That's for dinner. Father's gone to mill to-day with Mr. Ketcham, andhe won't be home."
The three younger ones took the lead, while Uncle Robert and Jimlingered behind, discussing ways and means of making money at farming.
Such a table full of youngsters looked strange to Kathie's eyes. On thewhole they behaved very well, a little awed, perhaps, by the presence ofstrangers. Sarah paused now and then to watch Kathie, whose quietmanners were "so like a lady." She made no clatter with her knife andfork, did not undertake to talk with her mouth full, and said "Thankyou" to everything that was handed to her.
"I never can be like that!" she thought with a despairing sigh, and yetunconsciously her manners took tone from this unobtrusive example.
Uncle Robert and Kathie made themselves at ease with truest politeness.Mrs. Strong talked over the Fair, and how much she enjoyed it, and toldKathie that the children were delighted with their gifts. Then followedsome conversation on the war. The Strongs were very patriotic, to saythe least. Sarah was excused from helping to wash the dishes, so she andKathie went to the parlor again, and the package was opened.
A very pretty story-book, one of Kathie's favorites, and a copy ofLongfellow's Evangeline, illustrated. She had also brought two coloredphotographs,--the sad-eyed Evangeline, and the "Children," companionpictures.
"I don't know whether you like poetry or not, but it always seems to methat it is pleasant to know the story of anything that interests you."
"I like--some verses--" Sarah returned, rather hesitatingly, "and thebook is beautiful. But--I can't say anything at all--"
The tears were so near to her voice that it rendered her almostungracious.
"You will enjoy them better by and by," Kathie went on, softly. "Someday you may be able to make pretty frames for the pictures. And Ibrought you a se
t of crochet-needles. Can you crochet?"
"Only to make a chain. I can do that with my fingers. I wish I did knowhow. And if I could ever knit a cap like the baby's!"
"We will sit down here and talk, and I can show you one or two patternsof edgings that are simple and pretty."
"How good you are!"
Sarah was no dullard, after all. Though her fingers appeared ratherclumsy at first, she soon managed to conquer the intricate loops,turnings, and stitches.
"Why, I wouldn't have believed it!"--in great joy. "I've done a wholescallop by myself."
Kathie laughed in answer.
"Now, if you'll only tell me something more about grammar, and puttingthe right word in--the place where it belongs. You see all the big girlsat school know so much more than I do--"
Kathie understood. She explained several matters that had been greatmountains to her in the beginning.
Now and then a bright light illumined the clear hazel eye, and a pleasedsmile played around the lips. "How good you are to take so muchtrouble!" she exclaimed, gratefully.
By and by Mrs. Strong came in to have a little visit with their guests.Sarah displayed the books and pictures, and the three inches of rathersoiled crocheted edging.
"Sary Ann's a curis girl," explained her mother; "she has a great notionof larnin', and all that, but her father hasn't much faith in it. Hethinks gals and wimmen were a good deal better when they didn't know somuch; and then you begin to want--everything. There's so much dressin'and foolin' goin' on nowadays."
"It is rather the lack of education, I should imagine. True knowledgeexpands one's soul as well as one's mind," said Uncle Robert.
"Well, mebbe, if it's the right sort; but this gettin' their heads sofull of dress--"
"Which is a sign that something better should be in them," was thepleasant response.
"And then they're ashamed of their homes, and their parents as slaved tobring them up, and make fun of everything that isn't right according totheir thinking. I've seen it more'n once."
Kathie blushed, remembering Lottie Thome's criticism. Mrs. Strongcertainly did look prettier in this clean calico gown and white collarthan in her purple bonnet with red roses.
"Yes," he answered; "it does happen, I know. But it seems to me that anydaughter or sister who acquired with her other knowledge true views ofher duty towards God and those around her could hardly fail to bebenefited by an enlargement of her narrow sphere of thought. Our firstduty is at home, but we do not stop there."
"Few people think of duties of any kind nowadays."
"Does not God leave a little to us? We who know them ought to make themattractive to others."
"It's so much easier to be bad; and I often wonder at it," whisperedSarah, through Kathie's shimmering curls. "But if some one would makeall that is right and good attractive, as your uncle says--I wish Icould live with you awhile. I don't believe you ever have anything toworry you!"
"Yes, I do," answered Kathie; "I have to try pretty hard sometimes."
Sarah studied her in surprise. "But if I were to try I never could behalf so good."
"Will you try?" Kathie uttered it with unconscious earnestness, and thelight that so often shone about her came out in her face.
But Uncle Robert, looking at his watch, declared that it was time forthem to go. Mrs. Strong was so sorry not to have "Father" see them, andbegged them to come again.
"It's been such a beautiful visit," exclaimed Sarah, with a tremble inher voice. "I'll try to remember everything you have told me!"
Steve brought a bag of nuts to put in the wagon, and Jim shook handsrather sadly with Uncle Robert.
"He is one of the right kind"; and with that he went back to the barn,whistling thoughtfully.
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