Part 6 (1/2)

The train was not on time, and the waiting became so painful that it was almost with gladness that they heard the warning whistle far down the track. A small crowd had gradually collected, and some one remarked: ”She's blowin' for the bridge. It'll be ten minutes before she's here.” To the tumultuously throbbing hearts of the little party it was a positive relief when a puff of smoke was seen and the engine came rus.h.i.+ng around the bend. Then there were hurried kisses; the bell clanged, a voice called out, ”All aboard,” and the train was off.

”Gone, gone, gone,” Kate repeated over and over to herself, as she gazed with tearless eyes into the dim distance of the now silent track.

As the party retraced their steps homeward the partridge was still calling his cheerful ”Bob White” from amid the wheat, while from the shadowy depth of a laurel thicket came the sweet gurgle of the wood-thrush.

In the late summer, news--glorious news--came that the foe had been driven back, and their boy was unhurt.

Later, a man from the front at home on furlough was heard to say that ”Billy Swan was a regular trump, and had borne himself like a veteran.” Kate walked elate, saying the words over and over, with a proud smile, ”A hero, a regular trump,”--he, her own dear Billy. The old Squire, too, with ill-concealed pride in his boy, was once more like his former self.

Happy days--brief, hopeful days! Alas, alas! Many Junes have come and gone since little Billy was laid to rest in the old burying-ground, close to the wheat-field where the partridge calls, calls, the long day through. June roses scatter their leaves above him, and when the sun drops low, with long golden shafts upon the green mound which covers him, from far down in the laurel thicket comes the liquid gurgle of the wood-thrush. Kate looks into faces, once frank and bright, and full of youth and hope, now grown old and seamed with care, and she tells herself that ”whom the G.o.ds love, die young.”

MAMMY

Two little snub noses were flattening themselves against the nursery window pane, while the four eager eyes watched the soft flakes whirling through the air and silently descending upon the whitening earth.

”Sposen we was to steal out,” whispered the boy, ”an' hide, so Mammy couldn't never find us no more.”

An excited chuckle interrupted the further development of this deliciously lawless scheme; but, though the little sister caught the infection, she prudently turned from the tempting prospect, saying, ”No, Sed, I's 'fraid you might git the croups an' die.”

The other occupants of the room were a little roly-poly cherub of a girl, seated in a tiny chair, holding in her arms a rag baby, which she rocked and dangled in servile imitation of her mammy, who, with b.u.mpings peculiar to the nursery chair, was rocking to sleep a still younger babe. A fair little maiden, curled up comfortably upon a cus.h.i.+on, the firelight glistening upon her yellow locks, bent over a book, from which she read, in high-pitched, childish voice, to her mammy, the story of ”Ellen Lynn.” Mammy was very proud that her nursling could read, and would cast admiring looks upon the child as she bent over her book, with finger pointing to each word. Both were absorbed in the story, and every picture was examined with scrupulous care.

Another occupant of the nursery was ”Chany,” the under nursemaid.

Gawky, sleek, and black, she sat flat upon the floor, her large, well-shod feet turned to the fire, a picture of lazy, vacant content.

”Ch-Ch-Chany,” stuttered Mammy, ”look in de top drawer an' git a hankcher and blow dat chile's nose. Go on wid yo book, honey; Mammy ain't goin' 'sturb you no mo.”

”Mr. Lynn left the sleigh, and turning from the island”--piped little Caroline. Then there came another prolonged snuffle from Sedley.

”You Ch-Ch-Chany, why'n't you git dat hankcher?” caused that languid maiden to bestir herself. Having fumbled in the drawer for the handkerchief, she approached the window, but no sooner did the little boy become aware of her intention than, with a rebellious shake of his curly head, he buried his nose in his little chapped fists, and, regardless of Sibyl's advice, that he had better be good, he firmly stood his ground, determined to resist Chany to the death.

”He ain't gwine let me tetch him,” said Chany, feebly dabbing at him with the handkerchief.

”Do, pray, gal, don't be so no-'count,” Mammy answered. Then Chany, stung by the imputation, made another helpless dive; a scuffle ensued, in which she was utterly routed, and the victorious Sedley threw himself upon Mammy's lap.

”Gi' me de hankcher,” said Mammy, with an air of withering contempt.

”There, now, you done woke up your little brother,” she said, when, the nose being blown, she again returned to trying to jolt baby Joe to sleep. ”He jest had drapped off into a doze.”

”Oh, chilluns, le's pop some corn!” Chany now exclaimed. ”Here's a whole sight of it,” she went on, as she searched a basket, which she had unearthed from the closet.

”Oh! pop corn!” shouted Sedley and Sibyl, running, and each seizing an ear.

”Oh! pop torn!” echoed the cherub, throwing down her rag baby. So the shovel was run into the ashes, and Chany and the three little ones set to work to sh.e.l.l the corn.

Quiet was again restored, and Caroline, who, all through the hubbub, had kept her finger faithfully upon ”island,” continued her reading.

Mammy now subst.i.tuted a sideways movement of the knees for the more vigorous b.u.mping of the chair, and baby Joe--lying luxuriously upon her wide lap--gazed dreamily into the glowing coals upon the hearth, until gradually the white lids drooped over the blue eyes, and he slept. The nursery was very quiet now. The corn-poppers were intent upon their work, and Mammy, soothed by the unwonted stillness, listened drowsily to the little reader until fresh interest was excited by the following words.

”The men were now still more alarmed,” read Caroline. ”Farmer Lynn said that he would go with them and see what had become of Mr. Lynn and Annie. The whole party accordingly went back to the river. After searching about for some time, one of the men espied something black on the surface of the snow, at a great distance down the river. They all proceeded to the spot, and were dreadfully shocked on arriving there to find that the black spot was a part of Mr. Lynn's arm and that his body was beneath, frozen, and buried up in the snow.”

When Mammy heard these words, she threw up her arms, and exclaimed, ”Lord, have mercy 'pon my soul! What! Mr. Lynn hisself?”