 CHAPTER 24 A LADDON RUBS HIS LAMP Your esteemed contribution, entitled Where In Windflowers, has been accepted for the pilot Miss Perkins, said Rebecca, entering the room where Emma Jane was darning the firm's stockings. I stayed to tea with Miss Maxwell, but came home early to tell you. You were joking, Becky, faltered Emma Jane, looking up from her work. Not a bit. The senior editor read it and thought it highly instructive, and it appears in the next issue. Not in the same number with your poem about the golden gates that close behind us when we leave school. And Emma Jane held her breath as she awaited the reply. Even so, Miss Perkins, Rebecca, said Emma Jane, with the nearest approach to tragedy that her nature would permit. I don't know, as I shall be able to bear it, and if anything happens to me, I ask you solemnly to bury that number of the pilot with me. Rebecca did not seem to think this the expression of an exaggerated state of feeling, in as much as she replied. I know, that's just the way it seemed to me at first, and even now whenever I'm alone and take out the pilot back numbers to read over my contributions, I almost burst with pleasure, and it's not that they are good either, for they look worse to me every time I read them. If you would only live with me in some little house when we get older, mused Emma Jane, as with her darning needle poised in air, she regarded the opposite while dreamily. I would do the housework and cooking, and copy all your poems and stories, and take them to the post office, and you needn't do anything but write. It would be perfectly elegant. I'd like nothing better if I hadn't promised to keep house for John, replied Rebecca. She won't have a house for a good many years, will he? No, sighed Rebecca roofily, flinging herself down by the table and resting her head on her hand. Not unless we can contrive to pay off that detestable mortgage, the day grows farther off instead of nearer now that we haven't paid the interest this year. She pulled a piece of paper towards her, and scribbling idly on it read aloud in a moment or two. Will you pay a little faster, said the mortgage to the farm? I confess I'm very tired of this place. The weariness is mutual, Rebecca Randall cried. I would, I'd never gazed upon your face. A note has a face, observed Emma Jane, who was gifted in arithmetic. I didn't know that a mortgage had. Our mortgage has, said Rebecca revengefully. I should know him if I met him in the dark. Wait, and I'll draw him for you. That will be good for you to know how he looks, and then when you have a husband and seven children, you won't allow him to come anywhere within a mile of your farm. The sketch, when completed, was of a sort to be shunned by a timid person on the verge of slumber. There was a tiny house on the right, and a weeping family gathered in front of it. The mortgage was depicted as a cross between a friend and an ogre, and held an axe uplifted in his red right hand. A figure with streaming black locks was staying the blow, and this, Rebecca explained complacently, was intended as a likeness of herself, though she was rather vague as to the method she should use in attaining her end. He's terrible, said Emma Jane, but awfully weasened and small. It's only a twelve hundred dollar mortgage, said Rebecca, and that's called a small one. One saw a man once that was mortgaged for twelve thousand. Shall you be a writer or an editor, asked Emma Jane presently, as if one had only to choose and the thing were done. I shall have to do what turns up first, I suppose. Why not go out as a missionary to Syria, as the birches are always coaxing you to. The board would pay your expenses. I can't make my mind up to be a missionary, Rebecca answered. I'm not good enough in the first place, and I don't feel a call as Mr. Birch says you must. I would like to do something for somebody and make things move somewhere, but I don't want to go thousands of miles away teaching people how to live when I haven't learned myself. It isn't as if the heathen really needed me. I'm sure they'll come out all right in the end. I can't see how if all the people who ought to go out and save them stay at home as we do, argued Emma Jane. Why, whatever God is, and wherever he is, he must always be there ready and waiting. He can't move about and miss people. It may take the heathen a little longer to find him, but God will make allowances, of course. He knows if they live in such hot climates it must make them lazy and slow, and the parrots and tigers and snakes and breadfruit trees distract their minds, and having no books they can't think as well. But they'll find God somehow, sometime. What if they die first, as Emma Jane? Oh well, they can't be blamed for that. They don't die on purpose, said Rebecca, with a comfortable theology. In these days Adam Ladd sometimes went to temperance on business connected with the proposed branch of the railroad familiarly known as the York and Yankham, and while there he gained an inkling of Sunnybrook affairs. The building of the new road was not yet a certainty, and there was a difference of opinion as to the best route, from temperance to Plumville. In one event the way would lead directly through Sunnybrook from corner to corner, and Mrs. Randall would be compensated. In the other her interests would not be affected either for good or ill, save as all land in the immediate neighborhood might rise a little in value. Coming from temperance to wear on one day Adam had a long walk and talk with Rebecca, whom he thought looking pale and thin, though she was holding bravely to her self-imposed hours of work. She was wearing a black cashmere dress that had been her Aunt Jane's second best. We are familiar with the heroine of romance, whose foot is so exquisitely shaped that the coarsest shoe cannot conceal its perfections. And when always cherishes a doubt of the statement. Yet it is true that Rebecca's peculiar and individual charm seemed wholly independent of accessories. The lines of her figure, the rare coloring of her skin and hair and eyes, triumphed over shabby clothing, though had the advantage of artistic apparel been given her, the little world of wear'em would probably at once have dubbed her a beauty. The long black braids were now disposed after a quaint fashion of her own. They were crossed behind, carried up to the front, and crossed again. The tapering ends finally brought down and hidden in the thicker part of the neck. Then a purely feminine touch was given to the hair that waved back from the face. A touch that rescued little crests and wavelets from bondage and set them free to take a new color in the sun. Adam Ladd looked at her in a way that made her put her hands over her face and laugh through them shyly, as she said. I know what you're thinking, Mr. Aladdin, that my dress is an inch longer than last year, and my hair different. But I'm not nearly a young lady yet, truly I'm not. Sixteen is a month off still, and you promise not to give up till my dress trails. If you don't like me to grow old, why don't you grow young, then we can meet in the halfway house and have nice times. Now that I think about it, she continued, that's just what you've been doing all along. When you bought the soap, I thought you were grandfather Sawyer's age. When you danced with me at the flag-raising, you seemed like my father. But when you showed me your mother's picture, I felt as if you were my John, because I was so sorry for you. That will do very well, smiled Adam, unless you go so swiftly that you become my grandmother before I really need one. You are studying too hard, Miss Rebecca Rowena. Just a little, she confessed, but vacation comes soon, you know. And are you going to have a good rest and try to recover your dimples? They are really worth preserving. A shadow crept over Rebecca's face, and her eyes suffused. Don't be kind, Mr. Aladdin, I can't bear it. It's—it's not one of my dimply days. And she ran in at the seminary gate and disappeared with a farewell wave of her hand. Adam Ladd winded his way to the principal's office in a thoughtful mood. He had come to Wareham to unfold a plan that he had been considering for several days. This year was the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the Wareham Schools, and he meant to tell Mr. Morrison that in addition to his gift of a hundred volumes to the Reference Library, he intended to celebrate it by offering prizes in English composition, a subject in which he was much interested. He wished the boys and girls of the two upper classes to compete, the award to be made to the writers of the two best essays. As to the nature of the prizes he had not quite made up his mind, but they would be substantial ones either of money or of books. This interview accomplished he called upon Miss Maxwell thinking as he took the path through the woods. Rose-red, snow-white needs the help, and since there is no way of my giving it to her without causing remark, she must earn it, poor little soul. I wonder if my money is always to be useless where most I wish to spend it. He had scarcely greeted his hostess when he said, Miss Maxwell, doesn't it strike you that our friend Rebecca looks wretchedly tired? She does indeed, and I am considering whether I can take her away with me. I always go south for the spring vacation, travelling by sea to Old Point Comfort and rusticating in some quiet spot nearby. I should like nothing better than to have Rebecca for a companion. The very thing assented Adam heartily, but why should you take the whole responsibility? Why not let me help? I am greatly interested in the child and have been for some years. You needn't pretend you discovered her, interrupted Miss Maxwell warmly, for I did that myself. She was an intimate friend of mine long before you ever came to wear him, laughed Adam, and he told Miss Maxwell the circumstances of his first meeting with Rebecca. From the beginning I've tried to think of a way I could be useful in her development, but no reasonable solution seemed to offer itself. Luckily she attends to her own development, answered Miss Maxwell. In a sense she is independent of everything and everybody. She follows her saint without being conscious of it, but she needs a hundred practical things that money would buy for her, and alas I have a slender purse. Take mine I beg and let me act through you, pleaded Adam. I could not bear to see even a young tree trying its best to grow without lighter air, how much less a gifted child. I interviewed her aunts a year ago, hoping I might be permitted to give her a musical education. I assured them it was a most ordinary occurrence, but that I was willing to be repaid later on if they insisted, but it was no use. The elder Miss Sawyer remarked that no members of her family had any responsibility, and she guessed they wouldn't begin at this late day. I rather like that uncompromising New England grit, exclaimed Miss Maxwell, and so far I don't regret one burden that Rebecca has borne or one sorrow that she has shared. Necessity has only made her brave, poverty has only made her daring and self-reliant. As to her present needs, there are certain things only a woman ought to do for a girl, not like to have you do them for Rebecca. I should feel that I was wounding her pride and self-respect, even though she were ignorant. But there is no reason why I may not do them, if necessary, and let you pay her travelling expenses. I would accept those for her without the slightest embarrassment, but I agree that the matter would better be kept private between us. You are a real fairy godmother, exclaimed Adam, shaking her hand warmly. Would it be less trouble for you to invite her roommate, too, the pink and white inseparable? No, thank you. I prefer to have Rebecca all to myself, said Miss Maxwell. I can understand that, replied Adam absent-mindedly. I mean, of course, that one child is less trouble than two. There she is now. Here, Rebecca appeared in sight, walking down the quiet street of the school of 16. They were in animated conversation and were apparently reading something aloud to each other. For the black head and the curly brown one were both bent over a sheet of letter paper. Rebecca kept glancing up at her companion, her eyes sparkling with appreciation. Miss Maxwell said, Adam, I am a trustee of this institution, but upon my word, I don't believe in coeducation. I have my own occasional hours of doubt," she answered, but surely its disadvantages are reduced to a minimum with children. That is a very impressive sight which you are privileged to witness, Mr. Lad. The folk in Cambridge often gloated on the spectacle of Longfellow and Lowell-Armin-Arm. The little school world of Wareham palpitates with excitement when it sees the senior and the junior editors of the pilot walking together. End of Chapter 24. Chapter 25 of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Anderson. Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas-Wiggin. Chapter 25 Roses of Joy. The day before Rebecca started for the south with Miss Maxwell, she was in the library with Emma Jane and Holda, consulting dictionaries and encyclopedias. As they were leaving they passed the locked cases containing the library of fiction open to the teachers and townspeople, but forbidden to the students. They looked longingly through the glass, getting some little comfort from the titles of the volumes, as hungry children imbibe emotional nourishment from the pies and tarts inside a confectioner's window. Rebecca's eye fell upon a new book in the corner, and she read the name aloud with delight. The Rose of Joy. Listen, girls, isn't that lovely? The Rose of Joy. It looks beautiful, and it sounds beautiful. What does it mean, I wonder? I guess everybody has a different rose, said Holder shrewdly. I know what mine would be, and I'm not ashamed to own it. I'd like a year in a city with just as much money as I wanted to spend, horses and splendid clothes, and amusements every minute of the day. And I'd like above everything to live with people that wear low necks. Poor Holder never took off her dress without bewailing the fact that her lot was cast in river borough where her pretty white shoulders could never be seen. That would be fun for a while anyway, Emma Jane remarked, but wouldn't that be pleasure more than joy? Oh, I've got an idea! Don't shriek so, said the startled Holder. I thought it was a mouse. I don't have them very often, apologized Emma Jane. Ideas, I mean. This one shook me like a stroke of lightning. Rebecca, couldn't it be success? That's good, muse Rebecca. I can see that success would be a joy. But it doesn't seem to me like a rose somehow. I was wondering if it could be love. I wish we could have a peep at that book. It must be perfectly elegant, said Emma Jane. But now you say it is love. I think that's the best guess yet. All day long the four words haunted and possessed Rebecca. She said them over to herself continually. Even the prosaic Emma Jane was affected by them. For in the evening she said, I don't expect you to believe it, but I have another idea. That's two in one day. I had it while I was putting cologne on your head. The rose of joy might be helpfulness. If it is, then it is always blooming in your dear little heart, you darling-as-kind Emmy, taking such good care of your troublesome Becky. Don't dare to call yourself troublesome. You're—you're—you're my rose of joy. That's what you are. And the two girls hugged each other affectionately. In the middle of the night, Rebecca touched Emma Jane on the shoulder softly. Are you very fast asleep, Emmy? she whispered. Not so very, answered Emma Jane drowsily. I've thought of something new. If you sang or painted or wrote, not a little, but beautifully, you know, wouldn't the doing of it just as much as you wanted give you the rose of joy? It might if it were a real talent, answered Emma Jane, though I don't like it so well as love. If you have another thought, Becky, keep it till morning. I did have one more inspiration, said Rebecca, when they were dressing next morning, but I didn't wake you. I wondered if the rose of joy could be sacrifice. But I think sacrifice would be a lily, not a rose, don't you? The journey southward, the first glimpse of the ocean, the strange new scenes, the ease and delicious freedom, the intimacy with Miss Maxwell, almost intoxicated Rebecca. In three days she was not only herself again, she was another self, thrilling with delight, anticipation and realization. She had always had such eager hunger for knowledge, such thirst for love, such passionate longing for the music, the beauty, the poetry of existence. She had always been straining to make the outward world conform to her inward dreams. And now life had grown all at once rich and sweet, wide and full. She was using all her natural God-given outlets and Emily Maxwell marveled daily at the inexhaustible way in which the girl poured out and gathered in the treasures of thought and experience that belonged to her. She was a life-giver, altering the whole scheme of any picture she made a part of, by contributing new values. Have you never seen the dull blues and greens of a room changed transfigured by a burst of sunshine? That seemed to Miss Maxwell the effect of Rebecca on the groups of people with whom they now and then mingled. But they were commonly alone, reading to each other and having quiet talks. The prize essay was very much on Rebecca's mind. Secretly she thought she could never be happy unless she won it. She cared nothing for the value of it, and in this case almost nothing for the honour. She wanted to please Mr. Aladdin and justify his belief in her. If I ever succeed in choosing a subject, I must ask if you think I can write well on it, and then I suppose I must work in silence and secret, never even reading the essay to you nor talking about it. Miss Maxwell and Rebecca were sitting by a little brook on a sunny spring day. They had been in a stretch of wood by the sea since breakfast, going every now and then for a bask on the warm white sand and returning to their shady solitude when tired of the sun's glare. The subject is very important, said Miss Maxwell, but I do not dare choose for you. Have you decided on anything yet? No, Rebecca answered. I plan a new essay every night. I've begun one on what is failure and another one on he and she. That would be a dialogue between a boy and a girl just as they were leaving school and would tell their ideals of life. Then, do you remember you said to me one day, follow your saint? I'd love to write about that. I didn't have a single thought and wear them and now I have a new one every minute, so I must try and write the essay here. Think it out at any rate, while I am so happy and free and rested. Look at the pebbles in the bottom of the pool, Miss Emily, so round and smooth and shining. Yes, but where did they get that beautiful polish, that satin skin, that lovely shape, Rebecca? Not in the still pool lying on the sands. It was never there that their angles were rubbed off and the rough surfaces polished, but in the strife and warfare of running waters. They have jostled against other pebbles, dashed against sharp rocks, and now we look at them and call them beautiful. If fate had not made somebody a teacher, she might have been, oh, such a splendid preacher! rhymed Rebecca. Oh, if I could only think and speak as you do, she sighed. I am so afraid I shall never get education enough to make a good writer. You can worry about plenty of other things to better advantage, said Miss Maxwell, a little scornfully. Be afraid, for instance, that you won't understand human nature, that you won't realize the beauty of the outer world, that you may lack sympathy, and thus never be able to read a heart, that your faculty of expression may not keep pace with your ideas. A thousand things, every one of them more important to the writer than the knowledge that is found in books. Aesop was a Greek slave who could not even write down his wonderful fables, yet all the world reads them. I didn't know that, said Rebecca with a half sob. I didn't know anything until I met you. You will have only have had a high school course, but the most famous universities do not always succeed in making men and women. When I longed to go abroad and study, I always remember that there were three great schools in Athens and two in Jerusalem, but the teacher of all teachers came out of Nazareth, a little village hidden away from the bigger, busier world. Mr. Ladd says that you are almost wasted on whereums, said Rebecca thoughtfully. He is wrong. My talent is not a great one, but no talent is wholly wasted unless its owner chooses to hide it in a napkin. Remember that of your own gifts, Rebecca. They may not be praised of men, but they may cheer, console, inspire, perhaps, when and where you least expect. The brimming glass that overflows its own rim moistens the earth about it. Did you ever hear of the Rose of Joy, asked Rebecca after a long silence? Yes, of course. Where did you see it? On the outside of a book in the library. I saw it on the inside of a book in the library, smiled Miss Maxwell. It is from Emerson, but I'm afraid you haven't quite grown up to it, Rebecca, and it is one of the things impossible to explain. Oh, try me, dear Miss Maxwell, pleaded Rebecca. Perhaps by thinking hard, I can guess a little bit what it means. In the actual, this painful kingdom of time and chance, our care, canker, and sorrow, with thought, with the ideal, is immortal hilarity, the Rose of Joy. Round it all, the muses sing, quoted Miss Maxwell. Rebecca repeated it over and over again until she had learned it by heart. Then she said, I don't want to be conceited, but I almost believe I do understand it, Miss Maxwell. Not altogether, perhaps, because it is puzzling and difficult, but a little enough to go on with. It's as if a splendid shape galloped past you on a horseback. You're so surprised and your eyes move so slowly you cannot half-see it, but you just catch a glimpse as it whisks by and you know it is beautiful. It's all settled. My essay is going to be called the Rose of Joy. I've just decided. It hasn't any beginning nor any middle, but there will be a thrilling ending, something like this. Let me see. Joy, boy, toy, ahoy, ahoy. Then come what will of wheel or woe since all gold hath ahoy. Thoualt bloom unwithered in this heart, my rose of joy. Now I'm going to tuck you up in the shawl and give you the fur pillow, and while you sleep I'm going down in the shore and write a fairy story for you. It's one of our supposing kind. It flies far, far into the future and makes beautiful things happen and never really all come to pass, but some of them will. You'll see, and then you'll take out the little fairy story from your desk and remember Rebecca. I wonder why these young things always choose subjects that will tax the powers of a great essayist, thought Miss Maxwell, as she tried to sleep. Are they dazzled, captivated, taken possession of by the splendor of the theme? And do they fancy they can write up to it? Poor little innocents, they're toy wagons to the stars. How pretty this particular innocent looks under her new sunshade! Adam Ladd had been driving through Boston streets on a cold spring day, when nature and the fashion-mongers were holding out promises which seemed far from performance. Suddenly his vision was assailed by the sight of a rose-colored parasol, gaily and furled in a shop window, signalling the passerby guiding him to dream of summer sunshine. It reminded Adam of a New England apple tree in full bloom, the outer covering of deep pink shining through the thin white lining, and a fluffy fringe-like edge of mingled rose and cream dropping over the green handle. All at once he remembered one of Rebecca's early competences, the little pink sunshade that had given her the only peep into the gay world of fashion ever known. Her adoration of the flimsy bit of finery and its tragic and sacrificial end. He entered the shop, bought the extravagant bobble, and expressed it to wear him at once, not a single doubt of its appropriateness crossing the darkness of his masculine mind. He thought only of the joy in Rebecca's eyes of the poise of her head under the apple-blossom canopy. It was a trifle embarrassing to her turn an hour later and buy a blue parasol for Emma Jane Perkins, but it seemed increasingly difficult, as the years went on, to remember her existence at all the proper times and seasons. This is Rebecca's fairy story copied the next day and given to Emily Maxwell just as she was going to her room for the night. She read it and with tears in her eyes and then sent it to Adam Ladd thinking he had earned a share in it, but he deserved a glimpse of the girl's budding imagination as well as of her grateful young heart. A fairy story. There was once a tired and rather poverty-stricken princess who dwelt in a cottage on the great highway between two cities. She was not as unhappy as thousands of others. Indeed, she had much to be grateful for. But the life she lived and the work she did was fashioned slenderly. Now the cottage stood by the edge of a great green forest where the wind was always singing in the branches and the sunshine filtering through the leaves. And one day when the princess was sitting by the wayside quite spent by her labor in the fields, she saw a golden chariot rolling down the king's highway and in it a person who could be none other than somebody's fairy godmother in the court. The chariot halted at her door and though the princess had read of such beneficent personages she had never dreamed for an instant that one of them could ever alight at her cottage. If you are tired, poor little princess why do you not go into the cool green forest and rest, asked the fairy godmother? Because I have no time, she answered, I must go back to my plow. Is that your plow leaning by the tree and is it not too heavy? It is heavy, answered the princess, but I love to turn the hard earth into soft furrows and know that I am making good soil wherein my seeds may grow. When I feel the weight too much I try to think of the harvest. The golden chariot passed on and the two talked no more together that day. Nevertheless the king's messengers were busy for they whispered one word into the ear of the fairy godmother and another into the ear of the princess, though so faintly that neither of them realized that the king had spoken. The next morning a strong man knocked at the cottage door and doffing his hat to the princess said, a golden chariot passed me yesterday and one within it flung me a purse of dukot saying go out into the king's highway and search until you find a cottage and a heavy plow leaning against a tree nearby. Enter and say to the princess whom you will find there I will guide the plow and you must go and rest or walk in the cool green forest for this is the command of your fairy godmother. And the same thing happened every day and every day the tired princess walked in the green wood. Many times she caught the glitter of the chariot and ran into the highway to give thanks to the fairy godmother but she was never fleet enough to reach the spot. She could only stand with eager eyes and longing heart as the chariot passed by. Yet she never failed to catch a smile and sometimes a word or two floated back to her, words that sounded like I would not be thanked. We are all children of the same king and I am only his messenger. Now as the princess walked daily in the green forest hearing the wind singing in the branches and seeing the sunlight filter through the latticework of the green leaves there came under her thoughts that had lain asleep in the stifling air of the cottage and the weariness of guiding the plow and by and by she took a needle from her girdle and pricked the thoughts on the leaves of the trees and sent them into the air to float hither and thither and it came to pass that people began to pick them up and holding them against the sun to read what was written on them and this was because the simple little words on the leaves were only after all a part of one of the king's messages such as the fairy godmother dropped continually from her golden chariot but the miracle of the story lies deeper than all this whenever the princess pricked the words upon the leaves she added a thought of her fairy godmother and folding it close within sent the leaf out on the breeze to float hither and thither and many other little princesses felt the same impulse and did the same thing and as nothing is ever lost in the king's dominion so these thoughts and wishes and hopes being full of love and gratitude had no power to die but took unto themselves other shapes and lived on forever they cannot be seen our vision is too weak nor heard our hearing is still dull but they can sometimes be felt and we know not what force is stirring our hearts to noble or aims the end of the story is not come but it may be that someday when the fairy godmother has a message to deliver in person straight to the king he will say your face I know your voice your thoughts and your heart I have heard the rumble of your chariot wheels on the great highway and I knew that you were on the king's business my hand is a sheaf of messages from every quarter of my kingdom they were delivered by weary and foot sore travelers who said that they could never have reached the gate in safety had it not been for your help and inspiration read them that you may know when and where and how you sped the king's service and when the fairy godmother reads them it may be that sweet odors will rise from the pages and half forgotten memories will stir the air but in the gladness of the moment nothing will be half so lovely as the voice of the king when he said read and know how you sped the king's service Rebecca Rowena Randall End of Chapter 25 Chapter 26 of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Mary Anderson Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wigan Chapter 26 Over the Tea Cups The summer term at Warram had ended and Holden Measer Dick Carter and Living Perkins had finished school leaving Rebecca and Emma Jane to represent Riverboro in the year to come Delia Weeks was at home from Lewiston on a brief visit and Mrs. Robinson was celebrating the occasion by a small and select party the particular day having been set because strawberries were ripe and there was a rooster that wanted killing Mrs. Robinson explained this to her husband and requested that he eat his dinner on the carpenter's bench in the shed as the party was to be a ladies affair all right it won't be any loss to me said Mr. Robinson give me beans that's all I ask when a rooster wants to be killed I want somebody else to eat him not me Mrs. Robinson had company only once or twice a year and was generally much prostrated for several days afterward the struggle between pride and parsimony being quite too great a strain upon her it was necessary in order to maintain her standing in the community to furnish a good set out yet the extravagance of the proceeding goaded her from the first moment she began to stir the marble cake to the moment when the feast appeared upon the table the rooster had been boiling steadily over a slow fire since morning but such was his power of resistance that his shape was as firm and handsome in the pot as on the first moment when he was lowered into it he ain't going to give up said Alice, peering nervously under the cover and he looks like a scarecrow we'll see whether he gives up or not when I take a sharp knife to him her mother answered and as to his looks a platter full of gravy makes a side of difference with old roosters and I'll put dumplings round the age they're terrible fillin though they don't belong with boiled chicken the rooster did indeed make an impressive showing lying in his border of dumplings and the dish was much complimented when it was born in by Alice this was fortunate as the chorus of admiration ceased abruptly when the ladies began to eat the fowl I was glad you could get over to Holdie's graduation dealia said Mrs. Mieserv who sat at the foot of the table and helped the chicken while Mrs. Robinson poured coffee at the other end she was a fit mother for Holda being much the most stylish person in Riverboro ill health and dress were indeed her two chief enjoyments in life it was rumored that her elaborately curled front piece had cost five dollars and that it was sent into Portland twice a year to be dressed and frizzed but it is extremely difficult to discover the precise facts in such cases and a conscientious historian always prefers to warn a too credulous reader against imbibing as gospel truth something that might be the basest perversion of it as to Mrs. Mieserv's appearance have you ever in earlier years sought the comforting society of the cook and hung over the kitchen table while she rolled out sugar gingerbread perhaps then in some unaccustomed moment of amiability she made you dole lady cutting the outline deftly with her pastry knife and then at last placing the human stamp upon it by sticking in two black currents for eyes just call to mind the face of that sugar gingerbread lady and you will have an exact portrait of Holda's mother Miss Peter Mieserv she was generally called there being several others how'd you like Holda's dress Delia she asked snapping the elastic in her black jet bracelets after an irritating fashion she had I thought it was about the handsomest of any answered Delia and her composition was first rate it was the only real amusing one there was and she read it so loud and clear we didn't miss any of it most of the girls spoke as if they had hasty puttin in their mouths that was the composition she wrote for Adam Ladd's prize explained Mrs. Mieserv and they do say she to come out first instead of fourth if her subject had been different there was three ministers and three deacons on the committee and it was only natural they should choose a serious piece hers was too lively to suit him Holda's inspiring theme had been boys and she certainly had a fund of knowledge and experience that fitted her to write most intelligently upon it it was vastly popular with the audience who enjoyed the rather cheap jokes and illusions with which it coruscated but judged from a purely literary standpoint it left much to be desired Rebecca's piece wasn't read out loud but the one that took the boys prize was why was that asked Mrs. Robinson because she wasn't graduating explained Mrs. Cobb and couldn't take part in the exercises it'll be printed with Herbert Dunn's in the school paper I'm glad of that for I'll never believe it was better than Holda's till I read it with my own eyes it seems as if the prize ought to have gone to one of the seniors well no Marthy not if Ladd offered it to any of the two upper classes that wanted to try for it argued Mrs. Robinson they say they asked him to give out the prizes and he refused up and down it seems odd his being so rich and traveling about all over the country that he was too modest to get up on that platform my holy could have done it and not winked an eyelash observed Mrs. Meeserve complacently a remark which there seemed no disposition on the part of any of the company to controvert it was complete though it happened to be there to see his niece graduate said deal you weeks land he looked elegant they say he's only six feet but he might have been sixteen and he certainly did make a fine speech did you notice Rebecca how white she was and how she trembled when she and Herbert Dunn stood there while the governor was praising him he'd read her composition too for he wrote the Sawyer girl's a letter about it this remark was from the sympathetic Mrs. Cobb I thought was kind of foolish his making so much of her when it won't her graduation objected Mrs. Meeserve laying his hand on her head and all that as if he was a pulp pronouncing benediction but there I'm glad the prize come to Riverboro at any rate and Hansmer one never was give out from the Warrom platform I guess there ain't no end to Adam Ladd's money the fifty dollars would have been good enough but he must needs go and put it into those elegant purses I set so fur back I couldn't see him fairly and now Rebecca has taken hers home to show her mother it was kind of a gold net bag with a chain said Mrs. Perkins and there was five ten dollar gold pieces in it Herbert Dunn's was put into a fine leather wallet how long is Rebecca going to stay at the farm, Astelia till they get over Hannah's being married and get the house to run in without her, answered Mrs. Perkins it seems as if Hannah might have waited a little longer Aurelia was set against her going away while Rebecca was at school but she's obstinate as a mule Hannah is and she just took her own way in spite of her mother she's been doing her sowing for a year the awfulest course cotton cloth she had but she's nearly blinded herself with fine stitching and rough linen tucking did you hear about the quilt she made it's white and has a big bunch of grapes in the center quilted by a thimble top then there's a row of circle border in round the grapes and she done them the size of a spool the next border was done with a sherry glass and the last was a port glass and all outside of that was solid stitching done in straight rows she's going to exhibit it at the county fair she'd better have been taking in sowing and earning money instead of blinding her eyes in such foolishness as quilted counterpains, said Mrs. Cobb the next thing you know that mortgage will be foreclosed on Miss Randall and she and the children won't have a roof over their heads don't they say there's a good chance of the railroad going through her place asked Mrs. Robinson if it does she'll get as much as the farm is worth and more Adam lads one of the stockholders and everything is a success he takes hold of they're fighting it in Auguste but I'd back lad again any of them legislators if he thought he was in the right Rebecca'll have some new clothes now said Delia and the land knows she needs them seems to me the Sawyer girls are getting terrible near Rebecca won't have any new clothes out of the prize money remarked Mrs. Perkins for she sent it away the next day to pay the interest on that mortgage poor little girl exclaimed Delia Weeks she might as well help along her folks as spend it on foolishness affirmed Mrs. Robinson I think she was mighty lucky to get it to pay the interest with but she's probably like all the Randalls come easy go with them that's more than could be said of the Sawyer stock retorted Mrs. Perkins seems like they enjoyed saving more than anything in the world and it's gaining on Miranda since her shock I don't believe it was a shock it stands to reason she'd never got up after it and been so smart as she is now we had three of the worst shocks in our family that there ever was on this river and I know every symptom of them better in the doctors and Mrs. Peter Meeser shook her head wisely brandy smart enough said Mrs. Cobb but you notice she stays right to home and she's more closed mouth than ever she was never took a mighty pride in the prize as I could see the pretty night drove Jeremiah out of his senses I thought I should have died ashamed when he cried hooray and swung his straw hat when the governor shook hands with Rebecca it's lucky he couldn't get fur into the church and had to stand back by the door for as it was he made a spectacle of himself my suspicion is and here every lady stopped eating and sat up straight that the Sawyer girls have lost money they don't know a thing about business and never did and Miranda's too secret and contrary to ask advice the most of what they've got is in government bonds I always heard money on them Jane had the timber land left her and Miranda had the brick house she probably took it awful hard the Rebecca's fifty dollars had to be swallowed up in a mortgage instead of going toward school expenses the more I think of it the more I think Adam Ladd intended Rebecca should have that prize when he gave it the mind of Holda's mother ran toward the idea that her daughter's rights had been assailed and the clock exclaimed Mrs. Perkins you don't suppose he could tell what composition the committee was going to choose and why should he offer another fifty dollars for a boys prize if he wasn't interested in helping along the school he's give Emma Jane about the same present as Rebecca every Christmas for five years that's the way he does some time he'll forget one of them and give to the other or drop them both and give to some new girls said deal you weeks with an experience born of fifty years of spinster hood like is not assented Mrs. Peter me serve though it's easy to see he ain't the Marian kind there's men that would marry once a year if their wives would die fast enough and there's men that seem to want to live alone if Ladd was a Mormon I guess he could have every woman in North River Borough that's a suitable age according to what my cousins say remarked Perkins taint likely he could be kitsch by any North River Borough girl to murder Mrs. Robinson not when he probably has to pick a Boston I guess Marthy hit it when she said there's men that ain't the Marian kind I wouldn't trust any of them when Miss Wright comes along laugh Mrs. Cobb cheenily you never can tell what and who's going to please him you know Jeremiah's contrary horse buster he won't let anybody put the bit into his mouth if he can help it he'll fight Jerry and he'll fight me till he has to give in Rebecca didn't know nothing about his tricks and the other day she went into the barn to hitch up I followed right along knowing she'd have trouble with the head stall and I declare if she won't patent Buster's nose and talking to him and when she put her little fingers into his mouth he opened it so fur I thought he'd swallow her for sure he just smacked his lips over the bit and if it was a lump of sugar land Rebecca I says how'd you persuade him to take the bit I didn't she says he seemed to want it perhaps he's tired of his stall and wants to get out in the fresh air end of chapter 26 chapter 27 of Rebecca Sunnybrook Farm this is a Libervox recording all Libervox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit Libervox.org recording by Mary Anderson Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wigan chapter 27 the vision splendid a year had elapsed since Adam Ladd's prize had been discussed over the tea cups and river borough the months had come and gone and at length the great day had dawned for Rebecca the day to which she had been looking forward for five years as the first goal to be reached on her little journey through the world and the mystic function known to the initiated as a graduation was about to be celebrated it was even now heralded by the sun dawning in the eastern sky Rebecca stole softly out of bed crept to the window drew open the blinds and welcomed the rosy light that meant a cloudless morning even the sun looked different somehow larger redder more important than usual and if it were really so there was no member of the graduating class who would have thought it strange or unbecoming in view of all the circumstances Emma Jane stirred on her pillow woke and seeing Rebecca at the window came and knelt on the floor beside her it's going to be pleasant she sighed gratefully if it wasn't wicked I could thank the lord I'm so relieved in mind did you sleep not much the words of my class poem kept running through my head and the accompaniments of the songs and worse than anything Mary Queen of Scots prayer in Latin it seemed as if adoro imploro ut libris me were burned in my brain no one who is unfamiliar with life in rural neighborhoods can imagine the gravity the importance the solemnity of this last day of school in a matter of preparation wealth of detail and general excitement it far surpasses a wedding for that is commonly a simple day in the country sometimes even beginning and ending in a visit to the parsonage nothing quite equals graduation in the minds of the graduates themselves their families and the younger students unless it be the inauguration of a governor at the state capitol werem then was shaken to its very center on this day of days mothers and fathers of the scholars as well as relatives had been coming on the train and driving into the town since breakfast time old pupils both married and single with and without families streamed back to the dear old village the two livery stables were crowded with vehicles of all sorts in lines of buggies and wagons were drawn up along the sides of the shady roads the horses switching their tails in luxurious idleness the streets were filled with people wearing their best clothes and the fashions included not only the latest thing but the well preserved relic of a bygone day there were all sorts and conditions of men and women for there were sons and daughters of storekeepers lawyers butchers doctors shoemakers professors ministers and farmers at the werem schools either as boarders or day scholars in the seminary building there was an excitement so deep and profound that it expressed itself in a kind of hushed silence a transient suspension of life as those most interested approached the crucial moment the feminine graduates to be receded in their own bedrooms dressed with the completeness of detail to which all their past lives seemed to have been but a prelude at least this was the case with their bodies but their heads owing to the extreme heat of the day were one and all ornamented with leads or papers or dozens of little braids to issue later in every sort of curl known to the girl of that period rolling the hair on leads or papers was a favorite method of attaining the desired result and though it often entailed a sleepless night there were those who gladly paid the price others in whose veins the blood of martyrs did not flow substituted rags for leads and pretended that they made a more natural and less woolly curl heat however will melt the proudest head and reduce to fiddling strings the finest product of the waving pin so anxious mothers were stationed over their offspring waving palm leaf fans it having been decided that the supreme instant when the town clock struck ten should be the one chosen for releasing prisoners from their self imposed tortures dotted or plain swiss muslin was the favorite garb though there were those who were streaming in white cashmere or alpaca because in some cases such frogs were thought more useful afterwards blue and pink waist ribbons were lying over the backs of chairs and the girl who had a roman sash was praying that she might be kept from vanity and pride the way to any graduating dress at all had not seen clear to rebecca until a month before then in company with emma jane she visited the perkins attic found piece after piece of white butter muslin or cheese cloth and decided that at a pinch it would do the rich blacksmith's daughter cast the thought of dotted swiss behind her and elected to follow rebecca in cheese cloth as she had in higher matters straight away devising costumes that included such drawing of threads such hem stitching and pin tucking such insertions of fine thread tatting that in order to be finished rebecca's dress was given out in sections the sash to hannah waist and sleeves to mrs. cob and skirt to aunt jane the stitches that went into the despise material worth only three or four pennies a yard made the dresses altogether lovely and as for the folds and lines into which they fell they could have given points to satins and procades the two girls were waiting in their room alone emma jane and rather a cheerful state of mind she kept thinking that it was the last day that they would be together in this altogether sweet and close intimacy the beginning of the end seemed to have dawned for two positions had been offered by mrs. morris in the day before one in which she would play for singing in calisthenics and superintend the piano practice of the younger girls in the boarding school the other an assistance place in the edgewood high school both were very modest as to salary but the former included educational advantages that mrs. maxwell thought might be valuable rebecca's mood had passed from that of excitement into a sort of exultation and when the first bell rang through the corridors announcing that in five minutes a class would proceed in a body to the church for the exercises she stood motionless and speechless at the window with her hand on her heart it is coming emmy she said presently do you remember in the mill on the floss when maggie tulliver closed the golden gates of childhood behind her i can almost see them swing almost hear them clang and i can't tell whether i'm glad or sorry i shouldn't care how they swung her clang senem and jane if only you and i were on the same side of the gate but we shan't be i know we shan't emmy don't dare to cry for i'm just on the brink myself if only you were graduating with me that's my only sorrow there i hear the rumble of the wheels people will be seeing our grand surprise now hug me once for luck dear emmy a careful hug remembering our butter muslin frailty ten minutes later adam lad who had just arrived from portland and was wending his way to the church came suddenly into the main street and stopped short under a tree by the wayside riveted to the spot by a scene of picturesque loveliness such as his eyes had seldom witnessed before the class of which rebecca was president was not likely to follow accepted customs instead of marching two by two from the seminary to the church they had elected to proceed thither by royal chariot a hay cart had been decked with the green vines and bunches of long stemmed field daisies those gay darlings of new england meadows every inch of the rail the body even the spokes all were twined with yellow and green and white there were two white horses flower trimmed rains and in the floral bower seated on maple boughs were the twelve girls of the class while the ten boys marched on either side of the vehicle wearing buttonhole bouquets of daisies the class flower rebecca drove seated on the green covered bench it looked not unlike a throne no girl clad in white muslin no happy girl of seventeen plain and the twelve little country maids from the vantage ground of their setting looked beautiful as the june sunlight filtered down on their uncovered heads showing their bright eyes their fresh cheeks their smiles and their dimples rebecca adam thought as he took off his hat as he panorama rebecca with her tall slenderness her thoughtful brow the fire of young joy in her face her filet of dark braided hair might have been a young muse or civil and the flowery hayrack with its frayed of blooming girlhood might have been painted as an allegorical picture of the morning of life it all passed him as he stood under the elms in the old village street where his mother had walked half a century ago and he was turning with the crowd toward the church when he heard a little sob behind a hedge in the garden near where he was standing was a forlorn person in white whose neat nose chestnut hair and blue eyes he seemed to know he stepped inside the gate and said what's wrong miss Emma oh is it you Mr. Lad Rebecca won't let me cry for fear of spoiling her looks but I must have just one chance before I go in I can be as homely as I like after all for I only have to sing with the school I'm not graduating I'm just leaving not that I mind that it's only being separated from Rebecca that I never can stand the two walked along together Adam comforting the disconsulate Emma Jane until they reached the old meeting house where the commencement exercises were always held the interior with its decorations of yellow green and white was crowded the air hot and breathless the essays and songs and recitations precisely like all others that have been since the world began one always fears that the platform may sink under the weight of youthful platitudes uttered on such occasions yet one can never be properly critical as the sight of the boys and girls themselves those young and hopeful makers of tomorrow disarms one scorn we on desperately at the essays but our hearts go out to the essayists all the same for the vision splendid is shining in their eyes and there is no fear of the inevitable yoke that the years are so surely bringing them Rebecca saw Hannah and her husband in the audience and Anne also and felt a pang at the absence of her mother though she had known there was no possibility of seeing her for poor Aurelia was kept at Sunnybrook by the cares of children and farm and lack of money either for the journey or for suitable dress the cobs she saw too no one indeed could fail to see Uncle Jerry for he shed tears more than once and in the intervals between the essays discanted to his neighbors concerning the marvelous gifts of one of the graduating class whom he had known ever since she was a child in fact had driven her from Maplewood to Riverboro when she left her home and he had told mother that same night that there weren't nary rung on the ladder of fame that that child wouldn't mount before she got through with it the cobs then had come and there were other Riverboro faces but where was Aunt Jane her black silk made over especially for this occasion Aunt Miranda had not intended to come she knew but where on this day of days was her beloved Aunt Jane however this thought like all others came and went in a flash for the whole morning was like a series of magic lantern pictures crossing and recrossing her field of vision she played she sang she recited Queen Mary's Latin prayer like one in a dream only brought to consciousness by meeting Mr. Aladdin's eyes as she spoke the last line then at the end of the program came her class poem Makers of Tomorrow and there as on many a former occasion her personality played so great a part that she seemed to be uttering innocence instead of schoolgirl verse her voice, her eyes, her body breathed conviction, earnestness, emotion and when she left the platform the audience felt that they had listened to a masterpiece most of her hearers knew little of Carlisle or Emerson or they might have remembered that the one said we are all poets when we read a poem well and the other reader makes the good book it was over the diplomas had been presented and each girl after giving furtive touches to her hair sly tweaks to her muslin skirts and caressing pats to her sash had gone forward to receive the role of parchment with a bow that had been the subject of anxious thought for weeks rounds of applause greeted each graduate at this thrilling moment in Jeremiah Cobb's behavior when Rebecca came forward was the talk of Warram and Riverboro for weeks Old Mrs. Webb avowed that he, in the space of two hours, had worn out her pew more, the carpet the cushions and woodwork than she had by sitting in it for forty years yes it was over and after the crowd had thinned a little Adam Ladd made his way to the platform Rebecca turned from speaking to some strangers and met him in the aisle oh Mr. Aladdin I am so glad you could come tell me and she looked at him half shyly for his approval was dearer to her and more difficult to win than that of the others tell me Mr. Aladdin were you satisfied more than satisfied he said glad I met the child proud I know the girl longing to meet the woman end of chapter 27 chapter 28 of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Mary Anderson Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wigan chapter 28 The Inevitable Yoke Rebecca's heart beat high at this sweet praise from her hero's lips but before she had found words to thank him Mr. and Mrs. Cobb who had been modestly biting their time in a corner approached her and she introduced them to Mr. Ladd where where is Aunt Jane she cried holding Aunt Sarah's hand on one side and Uncle Jerry's on the other I'm sorry lovey but we've got bad news for you is Aunt Miranda worse she is I can see it by your looks and Rebecca's color faded she had a second stroke yesterday morning just when she was helping Jane lay out her things to come here today Jane said you weren't to know anything about it till the exercises was all over and we promised to keep it secret till then I will go right home with you Aunt Sarah I must just run to tell Miss Maxwell for after I had packed up tomorrow I was going to Brunswick with her poor Aunt Miranda and I have been so gay and happy all day except that I was longing for mother and Aunt Jane there ain't no harm in being gay lovey that's what Jane wanted you to be and Miranda's got her speech back for your aunt has just sent a letter saying she's better and I'm going to set up tonight so you can stay here and have a good sleep and get your things together comfortably tomorrow I'll pack your trunk for you becky dear and attend to all our room things said Emma Jane who had come towards the group and heard the sorrowful news from the brick house they moved into one of the quiet side pews where Hannah and her husband and John found them from time to time some straggling acquaintance or old schoolmate would come up to congratulate Rebecca and ask why she had hidden herself in a corner then some member of the class would call to her excitedly reminding her not to be late at the picnic luncheon or begging her to be early at the class party in the evening all this in the midst of the happy excitement of the last two days when blushing honors had been falling thick upon her and behind the delicious exultation of the morning had been the feeling that the condition was a transient one and that the burden the struggle the anxiety would soon loom again on the horizon she longed to steal away into the woods with dear old John grown so manly and handsome and get some comfort from him meantime Alan Ladd and Mr. Cobb had been having an animated conversation I suppose up to Boston girls like that one are as thick as blackberries Uncle Jerry said jerking his head interrogatively in Rebecca's direction they may be smiled at him taking in the old man's mood only I don't happen to know one man my eyesight being poor the reason she looked handsome must have any girl on the platform I suppose there's no failure in my eyes responded Adam but that was how the thing seemed to me what did you think of her voice anything extray about it made the others sound poor and thin I thought well I'm glad to hear your opinion you being a traveled man her mother says I'm foolish about Rebecca and have been since the first mother scolds me for spoiling her but I noticed mother ain't fur behind when it comes to spoiling land it made me sick thinking of them parents traveling miles to see their young ones graduate and then when they got here heaven to compare them with Rebecca goodbye Mr. Ladd drop in some day when you come to river borough I will said Adam shaking the old man's hand cordially perhaps tomorrow if I drive Rebecca home as I shall offer to do do you think Miss Sawyer's condition is serious well the doctor don't seem to know but anyhow she's paralyzed and she'll never walk fur again poor soul she ain't lost her speech that'll be a comfort to her Adam left the church and the common came upon Miss Maxwell doing the honors of the institution as she passed from group to group of strangers and guests knowing that she was deeply interested in all Rebecca's plans he told her as he drew her aside that the girl would have to leave Wareham for river borough the next day that is almost more than I can bear exclaimed Miss Maxwell sitting down on a bench and stabbing the woman's word with her parasol it seems to me Rebecca never has any respite I had so many plans for her this next month in fitting her for her new position and now she will settle down to housework again and to nursing of that poor sick cross old aunt if it had not been for the cross old aunt Rebecca would still have been at Sunnybrook and from the standpoint of educational advantages or indeed advantages of any sort she might as well have been in the backwoods returned Adam that is true I was vexed when I spoke for I thought an easier and happier day was donning for my prodigy in pearl our prodigy in pearl corrected Adam oh yes she laughed I always forget that it pleases you to pretend you discovered Rebecca I believe though that happier days are donning for her continued Adam it must be a secret for the present but Mrs. Randall's farm will be bought by the new railroad we must have right away through the land and the station will be built on her property she will receive six thousand dollars which though not a fortune will yield her three or four hundred dollars a year if she will allow me to invest it for her there is a mortgage on the land that paid and Rebecca self-supporting the mother ought to push the education of the oldest boy who was a fine ambitious fellow he should be taken away from farm work and settled at his studies we might form ourselves into a Randall protective agency limited mused Miss Maxwell I confess I want Rebecca to have a career I don't said Adam promptly of course you don't men have no interest in the careers of women but I know Rebecca better than you you understand her mind better but not necessarily her heart you are considering her for the moment as prodigy I am thinking of her more as pearl well side Miss Maxwell whimsically prodigy or pearl the Randall protective agency may pull Rebecca in opposite directions but nevertheless she will follow her saint that will content me said Adam gravely particularly if the saint beckons your way and Miss Maxwell looked up and smiled provokingly Rebecca did not see her aunt Miranda till she had been at the brick house for several days Miranda steadily refused to have anyone but Jane in the room until her face had regained its natural look but her door was always ajar and Jane fancied she liked to hear Rebecca's quick light step her mind was perfectly clear now and save that she could not move she was most of the time quite free from pain and alert in every nerve to all that was going on within or without the house were the windfall apples being picked up for sauce were the potatoes thick in the hills was the corn tossling out were they cutting the upper field were they keeping flypaper laid out everywhere were there any ants in the dairy was the kindling wood holding out had the bank sent the coupons poor Miranda Sawyer hovering on the verge of the great beyond her body struck and no longer under control of her iron will no divine visions floated across her tired brain nothing but petty cares and sordid anxieties not all at once can the soul talk to God be he ever so near if the heavenly language never has been learned quick as is the spiritual sense in seizing the facts it needs then the poor soul must use the words and phrases it has lived on and grown into day by day poor Miss Miranda held fast within the prison walls of her own nature blind in the presence of revelation because she had never used the spiritual eye deaf to angelic voices because she had not used the spiritual ear there came a morning when she asked for Rebecca the door was open into the dim sick room and Rebecca stood there with the sunlight behind her her hands full of sweet peas Miranda's pale sharp face framed in its nightcap looked haggard on the pillow and her body was pitifully still under the counterpane come in she said I ain't dead yet don't mess up the bed with them flowers will ye oh no they're going in a glass pitcher said Rebecca turning to the wash stand as she tried to control her voice and stop the tears that spring to her eyes let me look at ye come closer what dress are ye wearing said the old aunt in her cracked weak voice my blue calico is your cashmere holding its color yes aunt Miranda do you keep it in a dark closet hung on the wrong side as I told ye always has your mother made her jelly she hasn't said she always had the knack of writing letters with nothing in it what's mark broke since I've been sick nothing at all aunt Miranda why what's the matter with him getting lazy ain't he how's John turning out he's going to be the best of us all I hope you don't slight things in the kitchen because I ain't there do you scald the coffee pot and turn it upside down on the windowsill yes aunt Miranda it's always yes with you and you it's always yes with you it's always yes with you and yes with Jane grown Miranda trying to move her stiffened body but all the time I lay here knowing there's things done the way I don't like them there was a long pause during which Rebecca sat down by the bedside and timidly touched her aunt's hand her heart swelling with tender pity at the gaunt face and closed eyes I was dreadful ashamed to have you graduate in cheesecloth Rebecca couldn't help it know how you'll hear the reason sometime and know I tried to make it up to you I'm afraid you was a laughing stock no Rebecca answered ever so many people said our dresses were the very prettiest they looked like soft lace you're not to be anxious about anything here I am all grown up and graduated number three in a class of 22 aunt Miranda the musicians offered me already look at me big and strong and young all ready to go into the world and show what you and aunt Jane have done for me if you want me near I'll take the Edgewood school so that I can be here nights and Sundays to help and if you get better then I'll go to Augusta for that's a hundred dollars more with music lessons and other things besides you listen to me said Miranda Quaveringly take the best place regardless of my sickness I'd like to live long enough to know you'd paid off that mortgage but I guess I shan't here she ceased abruptly having talked more than she had for weeks and Rebecca still out of the room to cry by herself and wonder if old age must be so grim so hard that it slipped into the valley of the shadow the days went on and Miranda grew stronger and stronger her will seemed unassailable and before long she could be moved into a chair by the window her dominant thought being to arrive at such a condition of improvement that the doctor need not call more than once a week instead of daily thereby diminishing the bill that was mounting to such a terrifying outcome that it haunted her thoughts by day and dreams by night little by little hope still back into Rebecca's young heart Aunt Jane began to clear starch her handkerchiefs and collars and purple muslin dress so that she might be ready to go to Brunswick at any moment when the doctor pronounced Miranda well on the road to recovery everything beautiful was to happen in Brunswick if she could get there by August everything that heart could wish or imagination conceive for she was to be Miss Emily's very own visitor and sit at table with college professors and other great men at length the day dawned when the few clean simple dresses were packed in the hair trunk together with her beloved coral necklace her cheesecloth graduating dress her claspin Aunt Jane's lace cape and the one new hat which she tried on every night before going to bed it was a white chip with a wreath of cheap white roses and green leaves and cost between two and three dollars an unprecedented sum in Rebecca's experience the effect of its glories when worn with her night dress was dazzling enough but if ever it appeared in conjunction with the cheesecloth gown Rebecca felt that even reverend professors might regard it with respect it is probable indeed that any professorial gaze lucky enough to meet a pair of dark eyes shining under that white rose garland would never have stopped at respect then when all was ready in a bija flag at the door came a telegram from Hannah come at once her mother has had bad accident in less than an hour Rebecca was started on her way to Sunnybrook her heart palpitating with fear as to what might be awaiting her at her journey's end death at all events was not there to meet her but something that looked at first only too much like it her mother had been standing on the haymow superintending some changes in the barn in the darkness they thought and slipped the right knee was fractured and the back strained and hurt but she was conscious and in no immediate danger so Rebecca wrote when she had a moment to send Aunt Jane I don't know how Tiz grumbled Miranda who was not able to sit up that day but from a child I could never lay a bed without Arellia's getting sick too I don't know she could help though it ain't any place for a woman a haymow but if it hadn't been that would have been something else Arellia was born unfortunate now she'll probably be a cripple and Rebecca'll have to nurse her instead of earning a good income somewhere else her first duties to her mother said Aunt Jane I hope she'll always remember that nobody remembers anything they ought to at seventeen responded Miranda now that I'm strong again there's things I want to consider with you Jane things that are on my mind night and day we've talked them over before now we'll settle them when I'm laid away do you want to take Arellia and the children down here to the brick house there's an awful parcel of them Arellia, Jenny and Fanny but I won't have Mark Hannah can take him I won't have a great boy stomping out the carpets and ruining the furniture though I know when I'm dead I can't hinder ye if you make up your mind to do anything I shouldn't like to go against your feelings especially in laying out your money Miranda said Jane don't tell Rebecca I've willed her the brick house she won't get it till I'm gone and I want to take my time about dying and not be hurried off by them that's going to profit by it nor I don't want to be thanked neither I suppose she'll use the front stairs as common as the back unlike as not have water brought into the kitchen but maybe when I've been dead a few years I shan't mind she's set such store by you she'll want you to have your home here as long as you live but anyway I've rode it down that way the lawyer burns wills don't hold more in half the time it's cheaper but I guess it comes out just the same in the end I won't go into have the first man Rebecca picks up for a husband turning you outdoors there was a long pause during which Jane knit silently wiping the tears from her eyes from time to time as she looked at the pitiful figure lying weekly on the pillows suddenly Miranda said slowly and feebly I don't know after all but you might as well take a look at the mark I suppose there's tame boys as well as wild ones there ain't a might of sense in having so many children but it's a terrible risk splitting up families and farming them out here and there they'd never come to no good and everybody would keep remembering their mother was a Sawyer now if you'll draw down the curtain I'll try to sleep End of Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org this reading by Lucy Burgoyne Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wigan Chapter 29 Mother and Daughter two months had gone by two months of steady fagging work of cooking, washing, ironing of mending and caring for the three children although journey was fast becoming a notable little housewife quick, ready and capable they were months in which there had been many a weary night of watching by Allia's bedside of soothing and bandaging and rubbing of reading and nursing even of feeding and bathing the ceaseless care was growing less now and the family breathed more freely for the mother's sigh of pain no longer came from the stifling bedroom where during a hot and humid August Allia had lain suffering with every breath she drew there would be no question for many a month to come but blessings seemed to multiply when the blinds could be opened and the bed drawn near the window when mother with pillows behind her could at least sit and watch the work going on could smile at the past agony and forget the weary hours that had led to her present comparative ease and comfort no girl of seventeen passed through such an ordeal and come out unchanged no girl of Rebecca's temperament could go through it without some inward repining and rebellion she was doing tasks in which she could not be fully heavy and trying tasks which perhaps she could never do with complete success or satisfaction and like promise of nectar to thirsty lips was the vision of joy she had had to put aside for the performance of dull daily duty how brief, how fleeting had been those splendid visions when the universe seemed open for her young strength to battle and triumph in how soon they had faded into the light of common day at first sympathy and grief were so keen for the thought of nothing but her mother's pain no consciousness of self interpose between her and her filian service then as the weeks passed little blighted hopes begun to stir an ache in her breast defeated ambitions raised their heads as if testing her unattainable delights teased her by their very nearness by the narrow line of separation that lay between her and their realisation it is easy for the moment to treat the narrow way looking neither to the right nor left upborn by the sense of right doing but that first joy of self denial the joy that is like fire in the blood dies away the path seems drearier and the footsteps falter such a time came to Rebecca and her bright spirit flag when the letter was received saying that her position in Augusta had been filled there was a mutinous leap of the heart then a beating of wings against the door of the cage a longing for the freedom of the big world outside it was the stirring of the powers within her though she called it by no such brand name she felt as if the wind of destiny were blowing her flame hither and thither burning consuming her but kindling nothing all this meant one stormy night in her little room at Sunnybrook but the clouds blew over the sun shone again a rainbow stretched across the sky while hope clad in April green smiled into her upturned face and beckoned her on saying grow old along with me the best is yet to be threads of joy ran in and out of the grey tangled web of daily living there was the attempt at odd moments to make the bare little house less bare by bringing in out of doors taking a leaf from nature's book and noting how she conceals ugliness wherever she finds it then there was the satisfaction of being mistress of the poor domain of planning, governing, deciding of bringing order out of chaos of implanting gaiety in the place of inert resignation to the inevitable another element of comfort was the children's love for they turned to her as flowers to the sun drawing confidently on her fund of stories serene in the conviction that there was no limit to Rebecca's power of make-believe in this and yet greater things little as she realized it the law of compensation was working in her behalf for in those anxious days mother and daughter found anew each other as never before a new sense was born in Rebecca as she hung over her mother's bed of pain and unrest a sense that comes only of ministry a sense that grows only when the strong bend toward the weak as for Aulia words could never have expressed her dumb happiness her motherhood was vouchsafed to her in all the earlier years when her babies were young karkin cares and anxiety darkened the fireside with their brooding wings then Rebecca had gone away and in the long months of absence her mind and soul had grown out of her mother's knowledge so that now when Aulia had time and strength to be her child she was like some enchanting changeling Aulia and Hannah had gone on in the dull round and the common task growing duller and duller but now on a certain stage of life's journey who should appear but this bewildering being who gave wings to thoughts that had only crept before who brought color and grace into the dull brown texture of existence you might harness Rebecca to the heaviest plough and while she had youth on her side she would always remember the green earth under her feet and the blue sky over her head her physical eyes saw the cake she was stirring and the loaf she was needing her physical ear heard the kitchen fire crackling and the tea kettle singing but ever and and on her fancy mounted on pinions rested itself renewed its strength in the upper air the bare little farmhouse was a fixed fact but she had many a palace into which she now and then withdrew palace's people were stirring and gallant figures belonging to the world of romance palaces not without their heavenly apparitions too breathing celestial counsel every time she retired to a citadel of dreams she came forth radiant and refreshed as one who has seen the evening star or heard sweet music or smell the rose of joy all the art could have understood the feeling of a narrow minded conventional hen who has brought a strange intrepid duckling into the world but her situation was still more wonderful for she could only compare her sensations to those of some quiet brown dorking who has brooded an ordinary egg and hatched a bird of paradise such an idea had crossed her mind more than once during the past and it flashed to and fro this mellow october morning when rebecca came into the room with her arms full of golden rod and flaming autumn leaves just a hint at the fall styles mother she said slipping the stem of the gorgeous red and yellow sapling between the mattress and the foot of the bed this was leaning over the pool and i was afraid it would be vain if i left it there too long looking at its beautiful reflection so i took it away from danger isn't it wonderful how i wish i could carry one to poor aunt miranda today there's never a flower in the brick house when i'm away it was a marvellous morning the sun had climbed into a will that held in remembrance only a succession of golden days and starlit nights the air was fragrant with ripening fruit and there was a mad little bird on a tree outside the door nearly bursting his throat with joy of living he had forgotten that summer was over that winter must ever come and who could think of cold winds, bare boughs or frozen streams a painted moth came in at the open window and settled on the tuft of brilliant leaves all there heard the bird and looked from the beauty of the glowing bush to her tall splendid daughter standing like young spring with golden autumn in her arms then suddenly she covered her eyes and cried i can't bear it chained to this bed interfering with everything you want to do it's all wasted all my saving and doing without all your hard study all Miranda's outlay everything that we thought was going to be the making of you mother, mother don't talk so don't think so exclaimed Rebecca sitting down impetuously by the bed and dropping the golden rod by her side why mother i'm only a little past 17 this person in a purple palico apron with flower on her nose is only the beginnings of me do you remember the young tree that john transplanted we had a dry summer and a cold winter and it didn't grow a bit at all we did for it then there was a good year and it made up for lost time this is just my little rooting season mother but don't go and believe my day is over because it hasn't begun the old maple by the well that's in its hundredth year and new leaves this summer so there must be hope for me at 17 you can put a brave face sobbed all out but you can't deceive me you've lost your place you'll never see your friends here and you're nothing but a drudge i look like a drudge said Rebecca mysteriously with laughing eyes but i really am a princess you mustn't tell but this is only a disguise i wear it for reasons of state the king and queen who are at present occupying my throne are very old and toporing and are going to abdicate shortly in my favor isn't it rather a small kingdom i suppose as kingdoms go so there isn't much struggle for it in royal circles and you mustn't expect to see a golden throne set with jewels it will probably be only a library with a nice green of peacock feathers for a background but you shall have a comfortable chair very near it with quantities of slaves to do what they call in novels your light is spitting all the smile in spite of herself and though not perhaps wholly deceived she was comforter i only hope you won't have to wait too long for your thrones and your kingdoms Rebecca and that i shall have a sight of them before i die that life looks very hard and rough to me what with your Aunt Miranda a cripple at the brick house me another here at the farm you tied hand and foot first with one and then with the other to say nothing of Jenny and Fanny and Mark you've got something of your father's happy disposition or it would weigh on as it does on me why mother cried Rebecca clasping her knees with her hands why mother it's enough joy just to be here in the world on a day like this to have the chance of seeing feeling doing becoming when you were 17 mother wasn't it good just to be alive you haven't forgotten no said allia but i wasn't so much alive as you are never in the world i often think Rebecca continued walking to the window and looking out at the trees i often think how dreadful it would be if i were not here at all if Hannah had come and then instead of me John, John and Jenny and Fanny and the others but no Rebecca never any Rebecca to be alive makes up for everything there ought to be fears in my heart but there aren't something stronger sweeps them out something like a wind oh see there is Will driving up the lane mother and he ought to have a letter from the brick house end of chapter 29 chapter 30 Rebecca of Sunnybrook farm this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information all to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org this reading by Lucy Burgoyne Rebecca of Sunnybrook farm by Kate Douglas Wigan chapter 30 goodbye Sunnybrook Will Melville drove up to the window and tossing a letter into Rebecca's lap went off to the barn on an errand sisters no worse then sighed earlier, gratefully or Jane would have telegraphed see what she says Rebecca opened the envelope and read in one flash of an eye the whole brief page your Aunt Miranda passed away an hour ago come at once if your mother is out of danger I shall not have the funeral till you are here she died very suddenly and without any pain oh Rebecca I long for you so Aunt Jane the force of habit was too strong and even in the hour of death Jane had remembered that a telegram was 25 cents and that allia had to pay half a dollar for its delivery Rebecca burst into a passion of tears as she cried poor poor Aunt Miranda she is gone without taking a bit of comfort in her life and I couldn't say goodbye to her poor lonely Aunt Jane what can I do mother I feel torn in two between you and the brick house you must go this very instant said allia starting from her pillows if I was to die while you were away I would say the very same thing your aunts have done everything in the world for you more than I've ever been able to do and it is your turn to pay back some of their kindness and show your gratitude the doctor says I've turned the corner and I feel I have to make out somehow if Hannah will come over once a day but mother I can't go he'll turn you in bed exclaimed Rebecca walking the floor and wringing her hands distractedly and don't make any difference if I don't get turned replied allia if the woman of my age and the mother of the family were not to slip off haymows she'd ought to suffer go put on your black dress and pack your bag I'd give a good deal if I was able to go to my sister's funeral and prove that I've forgotten and forgiven all she said when I was married her acts were softer and her words and she's made up to you for all she ever sinned against me and your father oh Rebecca she continued with quivering voice I remember so well when we were little girls together and she took such pride in curling my hair and another time when we were grown up she lent me her best blue muslin it was when your father had asked me to lead the grain march with him at the Christmas dance and I found out afterwards I ended to ask her here allia broke down and wept bitterly for the recollection of the past had softened her heart and brought the comforting tears even more effectually than the news of her sister's death there was only an hour for preparation will would drive Rebecca to temperance and send Jenny back from school he volunteered also for the woman to sleep at the farm in case Mrs Randall should be worse at any time in the night Rebecca flew down over the hill to get a last pale of spring water and as she lifted the bucket from the crystal depths and looked out over the glowing beauty of the autumn landscape she saw a company of surveyors with their instruments making calculations that apparently crossed Sunnybrook at the favourite spot where Mirapool lay clear and placid the yellow leaves on its surface no yellower than its sparkling sands she caught her breath the time has come she thought I am saying goodbye to Sunnybrook and the golden gates that almost swung together that last day we are closed forever now goodbye dear Brook and Hills and Meadows you are going to see life too so we must be hopeful and say to one another grow old along with me the best is yet to be Will Melville had seen the surveyors too and had heard in the temperance post office that morning the probable sum was received from the railway company he was in good spirits at his own improved prospects for his farm was so placed that its value could be only increased by the new road he was also relieved in mind that his wife's family would no longer be in dire poverty directly at his doorstep so to speak John could now be hurried forward and forced into the position of head of the family several years sooner than had been anticipated so Hannah's husband was obliged to exercise great self-control or he would have whistled while he was driving Rebecca to the temperance station he could not understand her sad face or the tears that rolled silently down her cheeks Hannah had always represented her Aunt Miranda as an irresistible parsimonious old woman who would be no lost to the world whenever she should elect to disappear from it Cheer up Becky as he left her at the depot you'll find your mother sitting up when you come back and the next thing you know the whole family will be moving to some nice little house wherever your work is things will never be so bad again as they have been this last year that's what Hannah and I think and he drove away to tell his wife the news Adam Ladd was in the station and came up to Rebecca instantly as she entered the door looking very unlike her bright self the princess is sad this morning he said taking her hand Aladdin must rub the magic lamp then the slave will appear and these tears be dried in a trice he spoke lightly for he thought her trouble was something connected with affairs at Sunnybrook and that he could soon bring the smiles by telling her that the farm was sold and that her mother was to receive a handsome price in return he meant to remind her too that though she must leave the home of her youth it was too remote a place to be a proper dwelling either for herself or for her lonely mother and the three younger children he could hear her say as plainly as if it were yesterday I don't think one ever forgets the spot where one lived as a child he could see the quaint little figure sitting on the Danza at North River and watch it disappear in the lilac bushes when he gave the memorable order for 300 cakes of rose red and snow white soap a word or two soon told him that her grief was of another sort and her mood was so absent so sensitive and tearful that he could only assure her of his sympathy that he might come soon to the brick house to see with his own eyes how she was fearing Adam thought when he had put her on the train and taken his lead that Rebecca was in her sad dignity and gravity more beautiful than he had ever seen her all beautiful and all womanly but in that moment's feet and they were still those of a child there was no knowledge of the world in their shining depths no experience of men or women no passion nor comprehension of it he turned from the little country station to walk in the woods by the wayside until his own train should be leaving and from time to time he threw himself under a tree to think and look at the glory of the foliage he had brought a new copy of the Arabian Nights for Rebecca wishing to replace the well-worn old one that had been the delight of her girlhood but meeting her at such an inauspicious time he had absently carried it away with him he turned the pages idly until he came to the story with a wonderful lamp and presently in spite of his 34 years the old tale held him spellbound as it did in the days when he first read it as a boy but there were certain paragraphs that especially called his eye and arrested his attention paragraphs that he read and reread finding in them he knew not what secret delight there were the quaintly turned phrases describing the effect on the once poor Aladdin of his wonderful riches and those discounting upon the beauty and charm of the sultan's daughter the princess Badr al-Badwa not only those who knew Aladdin when he played in the streets like a vagabond did not know him again those who had seen him for a while before hardly knew him so much were his features altered such were the effects of the lamp as to procure by degrees to those who possessed it perfections agreeable to the rank the right use of it advanced them too the princess was the most beautiful brunette in the world her eyes were large lively and sparkling modest her nose was of a just proportion and without a fault her mouth small her lips of a vermilion red and charmingly agreeable symmetry in a word all the features of her face were perfectly regular it is not therefore surprising that Aladdin who had never seen and was a stranger too so many charms with all these perfections the princess had so delicate a shape so majestic an air that the sight of her was sufficient to inspire respect a adorable princess said Aladdin to her of costing her and saluting her respectfully if I have the misfortune to have displeased you by my boldness in aspiring to the possession of only a creature I must tell you that you ought to blame your bright eyes and charms, not me Prince answered the princess it is enough for me to have seen you to tell you that I obey without reluctance End of Chapter 30