 CHAPTER 1, PART 1 OF LADDY LADDY by Gene Stratton Porter CHARACTERS LADDY who loved and asked no questions THE PRINCESS from the House of Mystery Leon, our angel-child, little sister, who tells what happened Mr. and Mrs. Stanton, who faced life shoulder to shoulder Sally and Peter, who married each other Elizabeth, Shelley, May, and other Stanton children Mr. and Mrs. Pryor, father and mother of the Princess Robert Padgett, a Chicago lawyer Mrs. Freshett, who offered her life for her friend Candace, the cook Miss Amelia, the schoolmistress Interested relatives, friends, and neighbors CHAPTER 1, PART 1, LITTLE SISTER And could another child world be my share? I'd be a little sister there Have I got a little sister anywhere in this house? inquired LADDY at the door in his most coaxing voice Yes, sir, I answered, dropping the trousers I was making for Hezekiah My pet Blue Jay, and running as fast as I could There was no telling what minute May might take it into her head That she was a little sister, and reach him first Maybe he wanted me to do something for him And I loved to wait on Lattie Ask mother if you may go with me awhile Mother doesn't care where I am If I come when the supper bell rings All right, said Lattie He led the way around the house Sat on the front step, and took me between his knees Oh, is it going to be a secret? I cried Secrets with Lattie were the greatest joy in life He was so big and so handsome He was so much nicer than anyone else in our family Or among our friends That to share his secrets, run his errands And love him blindly was the greatest happiness Sometimes I disobeyed father and mother I minded Lattie like his right hand The biggest secret yet, he said gravely Tell quick, I begged, holding my lip to his ears Not so fast, said Lattie, not so fast I have doubts about this I don't know that I should send you Possibly you can't find the way You may be afraid Above all, there is never to be a whisper Not to anyone, do you understand? What's the matter, I asked Something serious, said Lattie You see, I expected to have an hour or two for myself this afternoon So I made an engagement to spend the time with the fairy princess and our baked woods Father and I broke the reaper taking it from the shed just now And you know how he is about fairies I did know how he was about fairies He had a particle of patience with them A princess would be the queen's daughter My father's people were English And I had heard enough talk to understand that I was almost wild with excitement Tell me the secret, hurry, I cried It's just this, he said It took me a long time to coax the princess into our big woods I had to fix a throne for her to sit on Spread a magic carpet for her feet And build a wall to screen her Now what is she going to think If I'm not there to welcome her when she comes She promised to show me how to make sunshine on dark days Tell father and he can have Leon help him But it's a secret with the princess And it's hers as much as mine If I tell she may not like it And then she won't make me her prince And send me on her errands Then you don't dare tell a breath, I said Will you go in my place and carry her a letter To explain why I'm not coming, little sister Of course, I said stoutly And then my heart turned right over For I had never been in our big woods alone And neither mother nor father wanted me to go Passing gypsies sometimes laid down the fence And went there to camp Father thought all the wolves and wildcats were gone He hadn't seen any in years But every once in a while someone said they had And he was not quite sure yet And that wasn't the beginning of it Patty Ryan had come back from the war Wrong in his head He wore his old army overcoat Summer and winter Slept on the ground And ate whatever he could find Once Letty and Leon Hunting squirrels to make broth from other On one of her bad days Saw him in our big woods And he was eating snakes If I found Pat Ryan eating a snake It would frighten me so I would stand still And let him eat me if he wanted to And perhaps he wasn't too crazy to see how plump I was I seemed to see swarthy dark faces Big sleek cats dropping from limbs And Patty Ryan's matted gray hair The flying rags of the old blue coat And a snake in his hands Letty was slipping the letter into my apron pocket My knees threatened to let me down Must I lift the leaves and hunt for her? Or will she come to me? I wavered That's the biggest secret of all, said Letty Since the princess entered them Our woods are enchanted And there is no telling what wonderful things May happen any minute One of them is this Whenever the princess comes there She grows in size until she is as big as Say our Sally And she fills all the place with glory Until you are so blinded You can scarcely see her face What is she like, Letty? I questioned So filled with awe and interest That fear was forgotten She is taller than Sally, said Letty Her face is oval and her cheeks are bright Her eyes are big moonlit pools of darkness And silken curls fall over her shoulders One hair is strong enough for a lifeline That will draw a drowning man ashore Or strangle an unhappy one But you will not see her I'm purposely sending you early You can do what you are told And come back to me Before she even reaches the woods What am I to do, Letty? You must put one hand in your apron pocket And take the letter in it And as long as you hold it tight Nothing in the world can hurt you Go out our lane to the big woods Climb the gate And walk straight back the wagon road To the water When you reach that You must turn to your right And go towards Hoods Until you come to the Paw-Paw Thicket Go around that, look ahead You'll see the biggest beach-tree you ever saw You know a beach, don't you? Of course I do, I said indignantly Father taught me beach with the other trees Well then, said Letty, Straight before you will be a purple beach And under it is the throne of the princess The magic carpet and the walls I made Among the beach-roots there is a stone hidden with moss Roll the stone back and there will be a piece of bark Lift that, lay the letter in the box you'll find And scamper to me like flying See at the barn with father Is that all? Not quite, said Letty It's possible that the fairy queen may have set the princess Spinning silk for the caterpillars to weave their little houses with this winter And if she has, she may have left a letter there to tell me If there is one, put it in your pocket Hold it close every step of the way And you'll be safe coming home as you were going But you mustn't let a soul see it You must slip it into my pocket when I'm not looking If you let anyone see it, then the magic will be spoiled And the fairy won't come again No one shall see, I promised I knew you could be trusted, said Letty Kissing and hugging me hard Now go, if anything gets after you That such a big girl as you really wouldn't be ashamed to be afraid of Climb on a fence and call I'll be listening, and I'll come flying Now I must hurry Father will think it's going to take me the remainder of the day To find the bolts he wants We went down the front walk between the rows of hollyhocks And tassled lady slippers Out the gate and followed the road Letty held one of my hands tight And in the other I gripped the letter in my pocket So long as Letty could see me And the lane lay between open fields I wasn't afraid I was thinking so deeply about our woods being enchanted And a tiny fairy growing big as our Sally Because she was in them That I stepped out bravely Every few days I followed the lane as far back as the big gate This stood where four fields cornered And opened into the road leading to the woods Beyond it I had walked on Sunday afternoons with Father While he taught me all the flowers, vines, and bushes he knew Only he didn't know some of the prettiest ones I had to have books for them And I was studying to learn enough that I could find out Or I had ridden on the wagon with Letty and Leon When they went to bring wood for the cook stove Out oven and big fireplace But to walk, to go all alone Not that I didn't walk by myself Over every other foot of the acres and acres Of beautiful land my father owned But plowed fields, grassy meadows, wood pasture And the orchard were different I played in them without a thought of fear The only things to be careful about Were a little shiny slender snake With a head as bright as Mother's copper kettle And a big thick one with patterns on its back Like those in Letty's geometry books And a whole rattle-box on its tail Not to eat any berry or fruit I didn't know first without asking Father And always to be sure to measure how deep the water was Before I waded in alone But our big woods Leon said the wild cats would get me there I sat in our kaltapa And watched the gypsies drive past every summer Mother hated them as hard as ever she could hate anyone Because once they had stolen some fine shirts With linen bosoms That she had made by hand for Father And was bleaching on the grass If gypsies should be in our west woods today And steal me She would hate them worse than ever Because my mother loved me now Even if she didn't want me when I was born But you could excuse her for that She had already bathed, spanked, sewed for And reared eleven babies So big and strong Not one of them ever even threatened to die When you thought of that You shouldn't be likely to implore the Almighty To send her another Just to make her family even numbers I never felt much hurt at her But some of the others I never have forgiven And maybe I never will As long as there had been eleven babies They should have been so accustomed to children That they needn't all of them have objected to me All except Ladi, of course That was the reason I loved him so And tried to do every single thing he wanted me to Just the way he liked it done That was why I was facing the only spot in our land Where I was in the slightest afraid Because he asked me to If he had told me to dance a jig on the ridge-pull of our barn I would have tried it So I clasped the note, set my teeth And climbed over the gate I walked fast and kept my eyes straight before me If I looked on either side Sure as life I would see something I never had before And be down digging up a strange flower Chasing a butterfly or watching a bird Besides, if I didn't look in the fence corners that I passed Maybe I wouldn't see anything to scare me I was going along finely And feeling better every minute as I went down the bank Of an old creek that had gone dry And started up the other side toward the sugar camp Not far from the big woods The bed was full of weeds and as I passed through Away went something among them Beside the camp shed there was corded wood And the first thing I knew I was on top of it The next my hand was on the note in my pocket My heart jumped until I could see my apron move And my throat went all stiff and dry I gripped the note and waited Father believed God would take care of him I was only a little girl and needed help much more than a man Maybe God would take care of me There was nothing wrong in carrying a letter to the fairy princess I thought perhaps it would help if I should kneel on the top of the woodpile And ask God to not let anything get me The more I thought about it the less I felt like doing it though Because really you have no business to ask God to take care of you Unless you know you are doing right This was right but in my heart I also knew that if Lattie had asked me I would be shivering on top of that cordwood on a hot August day When it was wrong On the whole I thought it would be more honest to leave God out of it And take the risk myself That made me think of the crusaders And the little gold trinket in Father's chest till There were four shells on it And each one stood for a trip on foot or horseback to the Holy City When you had to fight almost every step of the way Those shells meant that my father's people had gone four times So he said There although it was a way far back Still each of us had a tiny share of the blood of the crusaders in our veins And that it would make us brave and strong And whenever we were afraid If we would think of them We never could do a cowardly thing How could anyone else do one before us? He said anyone with crusader blood Had to be brave as Richard the Lion hearted Thinking about that helped ever so much So I gripped the note and turned to take one last look at the house Before I made a dash for the gate that led into the big woods Beyond our land lay the farm of Jacob Hood And Mrs. Hood always teased me Because Lattie had gone racing after her when I was born She was in the middle of Monday's washing And the bluing settled in the rinse water And stained her white clothes and streaks It took months to bleach out I always liked Sarah Hood for coming and dressing me though Because our Sally, who was big enough to have done it Was upstairs crying and wouldn't come down I liked Lattie too because he was the only one of our family Who went to my mother and kissed her Said he was glad and offered to help her Maybe the reason he went was because he had an awful scare But anyway he went and that was enough for me You see it was this way No one wanted me as there had been eleven of us Everyone felt that was enough May was six years old and in school And my mother thought there would never be any more babies She had given away the cradle and divided the baby clothes Among my big married sisters and brothers And was having a fine time and enjoying herself The most she ever had in her life The land was paid for long ago The house she had planned, build it as she wanted it She had a big team of matched grays And a carriage with side lamps And patent leather trimmings And sometimes there was money in the bank I do not know that there was very much But any at all was a marvel Considering how many of us there were to feed Clothe and send to college Mother was forty-six and father was fifty So they felt young enough yet to have a fine time And enjoy life And just when things were going best I announced that I was half way over My journey to earth You can't blame my mother so much She must have been tired of babies And disliked to go back and begin all over After resting six years And you mustn't be too hard on my father If he was not just overjoyed He felt sure the cook would leave And she did He knew Sally would object to a baby When she wanted to begin having bows So he and mother talked it over And sent her away for a long visit to Ohio With father's people and never told her They intended to leave her there But she was over the colic at least They knew the big married brothers and sisters Would object and they did They said it would be embarrassing for their children To be the nieces and nephews of an aunt Or uncle younger than themselves They said it so often and so emphatically That father was provoked and mother cried Shelly didn't like it because she was going To school in Groveville where Lucy One of our married sisters lived And she was afraid I would make so much work She would have to give up her books And be friends and remain at home There never was a baby born who was Any less wanted than I was I knew as much about it as anyone else Because from the day I could understand All of them, father, mother, Shelly, Sarah Hood Everyone who knew, took turns telling me How badly I was not wanted, how much Trouble I made, and how Laddie Was the only one who loved me at first Because of that I was on the cordwood Trying to find courage to go farther Over and over Laddie had told me himself He had been to visit our big sister Elizabeth Over Sunday, and about eight o'clock Monday morning he came riding down the road And saw the most dreadful thing There was not a curl of smoke from the chimneys Not a tablecloth or pillow slip on the line Not a blind raised Laddie said his heart went Just like minded when the something Jumped in the creek bed, no doubt Then he laid on the whip and rode He flung the rain over the hitching post Leaped the fence and reached the back door The young green girl, who was all father Could get when the cook left, was crying So were Shelly and Little May Although she said afterward she had a boil On her heel, and there was no one to poultice it Laddie leaned against the door casing And it is easy enough to understand What he thought. He told me he had to try twice Before he could speak, and then he could only ask What's the matter? Probably May never thought she would have the chance But the others were so busy crying harder Now that they had an audience That she was the first to tell him We have got a little sister Great day! cried Laddie You made me think we had a funeral Where is mother, and where is my little sister? He went bolting right into mother's room And kissed her like the gladdest boy alive Because he was only a boy then And he told her how happy he was That she was safe, and then he asked for me He said I was the only living creature in that house Who was not shedding tears And I didn't begin for about six months afterward In fact, not until Shelly taught me By pinching me if she had to rock the cradle Then I would cry so hard mother would have to take me He said he didn't believe I'd ever have learned by myself He took a pillow from the bed Fixed it in the rocking chair, and laid me on it When he found that father was hitching the horses To send Leon for Dr. Fenner Laddie rode back after Sarah Hood And spoiled her washing It may be that the interest he always took in me Had its beginning in all of them Scaring him with their weeping Even Sally, whom father had to telegraph to come home Was upstairs crying, and she was almost a woman It may be that all the tears they shed Over not wanting me so scared Laddie That he went further in his welcome Then he ever would have thought of going If he hadn't done it for joy When he learned his mother was safe I don't care about the reason It is enough for me that from the hour of my birth He came to me little sister Seldom called me anything else And cared for me all he possibly could to rest mother He took me to the fields with him in the morning And brought me back on the horse before him at noon He could plow with me riding the horse Drive a reaper with me on his knees And hoe corn while I slept on his coat in a fence corner The winters he was away at college left me lonely And when he came back for a vacation I was too happy for words Maybe it was wrong to love him most I knew my mother cared for and wanted me now And all my secrets were not with Laddie I had one with father that I was never to tell So long as he lived But it was about the one he loved best Next after mother Perhaps I should never tell it But I wouldn't be surprised if the family knew I followed Laddie like a faithful dog When I was not gripping his waving hair And riding in triumph on his shoulders He never had to go so fast He couldn't take me on his back He never was in too big a hurry to be kind He always had patience to explain every shell, leaf, bird and flower I asked about I was just as much his when pretty young girls were around And the house full of company as when we were alone That was the reason I was shivering on the cordwood Gripping his letter and thinking of all these things In order to force myself to go farther I was excited about the fairies too I often had close chances of seeing them But I always just missed Now here was Laddie writing letters And expecting answers Our big woods enchanted A magic carpet And the queen's daughter becoming our size So she could speak with him No doubt the queen had her grow big as Shelley When she sent her on an errand to tell Laddie About how to make sunshine Because she was afraid if she went her real size He would accidentally step on her He was so dreadfully big Or maybe her voice was so fine He could not hear what she said He had told me I was to hurry And I had gone as fast as I could Until something jumped Since I had been settled on that cordwood Like Robinson Crusoe on his desert island I had to get down sometime I might as well start I gripped the letter, slid to the ground And ran toward the big gate straight before me I climbed it, clutched the note again And ran blindly down the road Through the forest toward the creek I could hurry there On either side of it I could not have run The big trees reached so high above me It seemed as if they would push through The floor of heaven I tried to shut my ears and run so fast I couldn't hear a sound And so going I soon came to the creek bank There I turned to my right and went slower Watching for the Paw-Paw thicket On leaving the road I thought I would have to crawl over logs And make my way But there seemed to be kind of a path Not very plain, but traveled enough to follow It led straight to the thicket On the edge I stopped to look for the beach It could be reached in one breathless dash But there seemed to be a green enclosure So I walked around until I found an entrance Once there I was so amazed I stood and stared I was half indignant too Let he hadn't done a thing But make an exact copy of my playhouse Under the biggest maidens blush In our orchard He used the immense beach for one corner Where I had the apple tree His magic carpet was woolly dog moss And all the magic about it Was that on the damp woods floor In the deep shade The moss had taken root and was growing As if it always had been there He had been able to cut and stick Much larger willow sprouts for his wall than I could And in the wet black mold They didn't look as if they ever had wilted They were so fresh and green No doubt they had taken root and were growing Where I had a low bench under my tree He had used a log But he had hewed the top flat And made a moss cover In each corner he had set a fern As high as my head On either side of the entrance He had planted a cluster of cardinal flower That was in full bloom And around the walls and a few places Thrifty bunches of oswego tea and foxfire That I would have walked miles To secure for my wild garden Under the Bartlett pear tree It was so beautiful that it took my breath away If the queen's daughter doesn't like this I said softly She'll have to go to heaven Before she finds anything better For there can't be another place on earth So pretty End of chapter one part one Chapter one part two of Laddie This Librivox recording is in the public domain Recording by Bridget Gage Laddie by Jean Stratton Porter Chapter one part two Little sister It was wonderful how the sound Of my own voice gave me courage Even if it did seem a little strange So I hurried to the beach, knelt And slipped the letter in the box And put back the bark and stone Laddie had said that nothing could hurt me While I had the letter, so my protection Was gone as soon as it left my hands There was nothing but my feet to save me now I thanked goodness I was a fine runner And started for the paw-paw thicket Once there I paused only One minute to see whether the way To the stream was clear And while standing tense and gazing I heard something. For an instant It was every bit as bad as at the dry creek Then I realized that this was a soft voice singing And I forgot everything else And a glow of delight The princess was coming Never in all my life was I so Surprised and astonished And bewildered She was even larger than our Sally Her dress was pale green Like I thought a fairies should be Her eyes were deep and dark As Laddie had said Her hair hung from a part in the middle Of her shoulders. And if she had been In the sun it would have gleamed Like a blackbird's wing. She was just as Laddie said she would be She was so much more beautiful Than you would suppose any woman could be I stood there, dumbly staring. I wouldn't have asked for anyone More perfectly beautiful or more like Laddie had said the princess would be But she was no more the daughter Of the fairy queen than I was She was not any more of a princess If father would tell all about The noble he kept in the till of his big chest Maybe she was not as near She was no one on earth But one of those new English people Who had moved on the land that cornered With ours on the northwest. She had ridden over the roads And been at our meeting-house There could be no mistake. And neither father nor mother Would want her on our place They didn't like her family at all Mother called them the neighborhood mystery And father spoke of them as the infidels Everywhere mother said Bought that splendid big farm Moved on and shut everyone out Before anyone knew people were shut out Mother dressed in her finest With Laddie driving Went in the carriage all shining To make friends with them This very girl opened the door And said that her mother was Indisposed and could not see callers Indisposed that's a good word That fills your mouth But our mother didn't like having it And she told us that she could see She could see Chit was insulting Then the man came and he said He was very sorry but his wife Would see no one. He did invite mother in But she wouldn't go. She told us she could see past him Into the house and there was such Finery as never in all her days Had she laid eyes on. She said he was mannerly as could be But he had the coldest, Severest face she ever saw. About why those people acted as they did. They said horse and house And England. They talked so funny you couldn't Have understood them anyway. They never plowed or put in a crop. They made everything into a meadow And had more horses, cattle, And sheep than a county fair. And everything you ever knew With feathers, even peacocks. We could hear them scream Whenever it was going to rain. Father said they sounded heathenish. Father was mightily pleased at first Because Mr. Pryor seemed to have books And to know everything And father thought it would be fine to be neighbors But the minute Mr. Pryor finished business He began to argue that every single thing Father and mother believed was wrong He said write out in plain English That God was a myth. Father told him pretty quickly That no man could say that in his life. He said he could see past her And he said he could see past her And he said he could see past her And pretty quickly that no man could say that in his house. So he left suddenly And had not been back since. And father didn't want him ever to come again. Then their neighbors often saw the woman Around the house and garden. She looked and acted quite as well as anyone. So probably she was not half so sick As my mother, who had nursed three of us Through typhoid fever And then had it herself when she was All tired out. She wouldn't let a soul know she had a pain Until she dropped over and couldn't take Another step. And father or laddie carried her to bed. But she went everywhere, Saw all her friends, And did more good from her bed Than any woman in our neighborhood Could on her feet. So we thought mighty little of those Prior people. Everyone said the girl was pretty. Then her clothes drove the other woman crazy. Some of our neighborhood came from Far down east, like my mother. Our people back a little were from Many of the others were from Kentucky And Virginia. And they were well dressed, proud, handsome women. None better looking anywhere. They followed the fashions and spent Much time and money on their clothes. When it was quarterly meeting, Or the bishop dedicated the church, Or they went to town on court days, You should have seen them. Until priors came. Then something new happened, And not a woman in our neighborhood liked it. Pamela Pryor didn't follow the fashions. They followed them. If every other woman made long tight Sleeves to their wrists, She let hers flow to the elbow And filled them with silk lining, Ruffled with lace. If they wore high neck bands, She had none, and used a flat lace collar. If they cut their waist straight Around and gathered their skirts On six yards full, She ran hers down to a little Point front and back that made her Look slenderer and put only He couldn't manage a horse any better. And aside from him there wasn't A man we knew who would have tried To ride some of the animals she did. If she ever worked a stroke No one knew it. All day long she sat in the parlor, The very best one, every day, Or on benches under the trees, With embroidery frames or books. Some of them fearful, big, Difficult looking ones. Or rode over the country. She rode in sunshine and she rode in storm. I think she couldn't see her way through her Tangled black hair. She rode through snow and in pouring rain When she could have stayed out of it If she had wanted to. She didn't seem to be afraid Of anything on earth or in heaven. Everyone thought she was like her father And didn't believe there was any God. So when she came among us at church Or any public gathering, As she sometimes did, People were in no hurry to be friendly While she looked straight ahead And then she was precise and cold, I tell you. Men took off their hats, Got out of the road when she came pounding along And stared after her like beaddled mummies, My mother said. But that was all she or anyone else could say. The young fellows were wild about her. And if they tried to sidle up to her In the hope that they might lead her horse Or get to hold her foot when she mounted They always saw when they reached her That she wasn't there. But she was here. She was here only a few times. But this was the prior girl, Just as sure as I would have known If it had been Sally. What dazed me was that she answered In every particular the description Laddie had given me of the queen's daughter. And worst of all, From the day she came among us, Moving so proud and cold, Blabbing old Hannah Dover Said she carried herself like a princess. As if Hannah Dover knew how a princess Carried herself. At first it was because She was like they thought a princess would be. But later they did it in meanness To make fun. After they knew her name, They were used to calling her the princess. So they kept it up. But some of them were secretly proud of her Because she could look and do And be what they would have given anything to. And they knew they couldn't to save them. I was never in such a fix in all my life. She looked more as Laddie had said the princess would Have thought any woman could. But she was Pamela Pryor nonetheless. Everyone called her the princess. But she couldn't make reality out of that. She just couldn't be the fairy queen's daughter. So the letter couldn't possibly be for her. She had no business in our woods. You could see that they had plenty of their own. She went straight to the door of the willow room And walked in as if she belonged there. What if she found the hollow And took Laddie's letter? Fast as I could slip over the leaves, I went back. She was on the moss carpet, On her knees, and the letter was in her fingers. It's a good thing to have your manners Soundly thrashed into you. You've got to be scared stiff before you forget them. I wasn't so afraid of her As I would have been If I had known she was the princess And have Laddie's letter. She should not. What had the kind of girl she was From a home like hers To teach anyone from our house About making sunshine? I went through, so I just parted it a little, And said, Please put back that letter where you got it. It isn't for you. She knelt on the mosses, the letter in her hand, And her face, as she turned to me, Was rather startled. But when she saw me, she laughed, And said in the sweetest voice I ever heard, Are you so very sure of that? Well, I ought to be, I said, I put it there. Might I inquire for whom you put it there? No, ma'am, that's a secret. You should have seen the light flame in her eyes, The red deep in on her cheeks, And the little curl of laughter that curved her lips. How interesting, she cried. I wonder now if you are not little sister? I am to Laddie, and our folks, I said, You are a stranger. All the dancing lights went from her face. She looked as if she were going to cry, Unless she hurried up and swallowed it down Hard and fast. That is quite true, she said, I am a stranger. Do you know that being a stranger Is the hardest thing that can happen to anyone In all this world? Then why don't you open your doors And invite your neighbors in, Go to see them, and stop your father From saying such dreadful things? They are not my doors, she said, And could you keep your father From saying anything he chooses? I stood and blinked at her. Of course, I wouldn't even dare try that. I'm so sorry, was all I could think to say. I couldn't ask her to come to our house. I knew no one wanted her. But if I couldn't speak for the others, Surely I might for myself. I let go the willows and went to the door. The princess arose and sat on the seat Laddie had made for the queen's daughter. It was an awful pity to tell her She shouldn't sit there. For I had my doubts if the real true princess Would be half as lovely when she came If she ever did. Someway the princess, Who was not a princess, Appeared so real, I couldn't keep from being confused And forgetting that she was only just Pamela prior. Already the lovely lights had gone from her face Until it made me so sad I wanted to cry And I was no easy cry-baby either. If I couldn't offer friendship for my family I would for myself. You may call me little sister if you like, I said. I won't be a stranger. Why how lovely, cried the princess. You should have seen the dancing lights Fly back to her eyes. Probably you won't believe this. But the first thing I knew I was beside her on the throne Her arm was around me And it's the gospel truth that she hugged me tight. I just had sense enough to reach over And pick Laddie's letter from her fingers And then I was on her side. I don't know what she did to me But all at once I knew that she was Dreadfully lonely That she hated being a stranger That she was sorry enough to cry Because their house was one of mystery And that she would open the door I could. I like you, I said, reaching up to touch her curls. I never had seen her That I did not want to They were like what I thought they would be Father and Laddie and some of us had wavy hair But hers was crisp And it clung to your fingers And wrapped around them And seemed to tug at your heart Like it does when a baby grips you. I drew away my hand And the hair stretched out until it was long as any of ours And then curled up again That no tins had stabbed into her head To make those curls I began trying to single out one hair What are you doing? she asked I want to know if only one hair Is strong enough to draw a drowning man from the water Or strangle an unhappy one, I said Believe me, no, cried the princess It would take all I have Woven into a rope to do that Laddie knows curls that just one Hair of them is strong enough, I boasted I wonder now, said the princess I think he must have been making poetry Or telling fairy tales He was telling the truth, I assured her Father doesn't believe in fairies And mother laughs But Laddie and I know Do you believe in fairies? Of course I do, she said Then you know that this could be An enchanted wood I have found it so, said the princess And maybe this is a magic carpet It surely is a magic carpet And you might be the daughter of the queen Your eyes are moonlit pools of darkness If only your hair were stronger And you knew about making sunshine Maybe it is stronger than I think It never has been tested Perhaps I do know about making sunshine Possibly I am as true as the wood in the carpet I drew away and stared at her The longer I looked, the more uncertain I became Maybe her mother was the queen Perhaps that was the mystery It might be the reason she did a magic carpet It might be the reason she didn't want the people to see her Maybe she was so busy making sunshine For the princess to bring to Laddie That she had no time to sew carpet rags And go to quiltings and funerals and make visits It was hard to know what to think I wish you'd tell me plain out If you are the queen's daughter I said, it's most important You can't have this letter unless I know It's the very first time Laddie ever trusted me with a letter And I just can't give it to the wrong person Then why don't you leave it where he told you? But you have gone and found the place You started to take it once You would again soon as I left Look me straight in the eyes, little sister Said the princess softly Am I like a person who would take anything That didn't belong to her? No, I said instantly How do you think I happen to come to this place? Maybe our woods are prettier than yours How do you think I knew where the letter was? I shook my head If I show you some others Exactly like the one you have there Then will you believe that it is for me? Yes, I answered I believed it anyway It just seemed so, the better you knew her The princess slipped her hand Among the folds of the trailing pale green skirt And from a hidden pocket Drew other letters exactly like the one I held She opened one and ran her finger Along the top line and I read To the princess And then she pointed to the ending And it was merely signed, Laddie But all the words written between were his writing Slowly I handed her the letter You don't want me to have it? She asked Yes, I said I want you to have it if Laddie wrote it for you But mother and father won't Not at all What makes you think so? She asked gently Don't you know what people say about you? Some of it perhaps Well, do you think it is true? You're up and hateful and proud Not that you don't want to be neighborly with other people No, I don't think that But your father said in our home That there was no God And you wouldn't let my mother in When she put on her best dress and went in the carriage And wanted to be friends I have to believe that Yes, you can't help believing that Said the princess Then can't you see why you'll be likely To show Laddie the way to find trouble Instead of sunshine? Oh, princess, you won't do it, will you? I cried Don't you think such a big man as Laddie Can take care of himself, she asked And the dancing lights that had begun to fade Came back Over there she pointed through our woods Toward the south west Lives a man you know What do his neighbors call him? Stiff necked Johnny, I answered promptly And the man who lives next to him Pinch fist Williams Her finger veered to another neighbor's That house? Gigglehead Smithson's What about the man who lives over there? He beats his wife And the house beyond? Mother whispers about them, I don't know And the woman on the hill? She doesn't do anything but gossip And make everyone trouble Exactly, said the princess Yet most of these people come to your house And your family goes to theirs Do you suppose people they know nothing about Are so much worse than these others? Your father will take it back about God And your mother will let people in My father and mother both wanted to be friends, you know That I can't possibly do, she said But maybe I could change their feelings toward me Do it, I cried Oh, I'd just love you to do it I wish you would come to our house and be friends Sally is pretty as you are Only a different way And I know she'd like you And so would Shelly If Laddie writes you letters I'd be delighted if mother knew you Because she loves him best of any of us She depends on him most as much as father Then will you keep the secret until I have time to try? Say, until this time next year? I'll keep it just as long as Laddie wants me to Good, said the princess No wonder Laddie thinks you the finest little sister Anyone ever had Does Laddie think that? I asked He does indeed, said the princess That I'm not afraid to go home, I said And I'll bring his letter the next time he can't come Were you scared this time? I told her about that something in the dry bed The wolves, wild cats, Patty Ryan, and the gypsies You little goosey, said the princess I am afraid that brother Leanne of yours Is the biggest rogue loose in this part of the country Didn't it ever occur to you that people named wolf lived over there And they called that crowd next to us, wild cats Because they just went on some land and took it And began living there without any more permission Than real wild cats asked to enter the woods Do you suppose I would be here, and everywhere else I want to go If there were any danger? Did anything really harm you coming? You're harmed when you're scared until you can't breathe, I said Anyway, nothing could get me coming Because I held the letter tight in my hand Like Laddie said If you'd write me one to take back I'd be safe going home I see, said the princess No pencil and no paper Unless I used the back of one of Laddie's letters And that wouldn't be polite You can make new fashions, I said But you don't know much about the woods, do you? I could fix fifty ways to send a message to Laddie How would you, asked the princess Running to the Paw-Paw bushes I pulled some big tender leaves Then I took the bark from the box And laid a leaf on it Press with one of your rings, I said And print what you want to say There are fairies every day that way Only I use an old knife-handle She tried She spoiled two or three By bearing down so hard she cut the leaves She didn't even know enough to write on the frosty side Until she was told But pretty soon She got along so well she printed all over two big ones Then I took a stick and punched little holes And stuck a piece of fox-fire bloom through What makes you do that? She asked That's the stamp, I explained But it's my letter and I didn't put it there Has to be there, or the fairies won't like it, I said Well then, let it go, said the princess I put back the bark and replaced the stone Gathered up the scattered leaves And put the two with writing on between fresh ones Now I must run, I said, or Laddie will think The gypsies have got me sure I'll go with you past the dry creek, she offered You'd better not, I said, I'd love to have you But it would be best for you to change their opinion Before father or mother sees you on their land Perhaps it would, said the princess I'll wait here until you reach the fence And then you call, and I'll know you are in the open And feel comfortable I am most all over being afraid now, I told her Just to show her, I walked to the creek, climbed the gate And went down the lane Almost to the road, I began wondering What I could do with the letter When looking ahead, I saw Laddie coming I was just starting to find you You've been an aged child, he said I held up the letter No one is looking, I said And this won't go in your pocket You should have seen his face Where did you get it, he asked I told him all about it I told him everything About the hair that maybe was stronger than she thought And that she was going to change father's and mother's opinions And that I put the red flower on But she left it And when I was done Laddie almost hugged the life out of me I never did see him so happy If you be very, very careful Never to breathe a whisper Keep you with me some day, he promised End of chapter one Chapter two part one of Laddie This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by Bridget Gage Laddie by Jean Stratton Porter Chapter two part one Our angel boy I had a brother once, a gracious boy Full of all gentleness Of calmest hope Of sweet and quiet joy There was the look of heaven upon his face It was supper time when we reached home And Bobby was at the front gate to meet me He always hunted me all over the place When the big bell in the yard rang at mealtime Because if he crowed nicely when he was told He was allowed to stand on the back of my chair And every little while I held up my plate And shared bites with him I have seen many white bantams But never another like Bobby My big brothers bought him for me in Fort Wayne And sent him in a box, alone on the cars Father and I drove to Groveville to meet him The minute father pried off the lid Bobby hopped on the edge of the box and crowed The biggest crow you ever heard From such a might of a body He wasn't in the least afraid of us And we were pleased about it You could scarcely see his beady black eyes For his bushy topknot His wingtips touched the ground His tail had two beautiful plumi feathers Much longer than the others His feet were covered with feathers And his knee-tuffs stragged His sponkiest little fellow And white as muslin We went to supper together But no one asked where I had been And because I was so bursting full of importance I talked only to Bobby In order to be safe After supper I finished Hezekiah's trousers And may cut his coat for me School would begin in September And our clothes were being made So I used the scraps to dress him His suit was done by the next four noon And father never left harder So I went down the walk to meet him Dressed in pink trousers and coat The coat had flowing sleeves Like the princess wore So Hezekiah could fly And he seemed to like them His suit was such a success I began a sun bonnet And when that was tied on him The folks almost had spasms They said he wouldn't like being dressed That he would fly away to punish me But he did no such thing He stayed around the house Down the lane leading to our meadow Where Leon was killing thistles with a grubbing hoe I thought he would be glad to see me And he was Everyone had been busy in the house So I went to the cellar the outside way And ate all I wanted from the cupboard Then I spread two big slices of bread The best I could with my fingers Putting apple butter on one And mashed potatoes on the other Leon leaned on the hoe and watched me coming He was a hungry boy And lonesome too I went before Stasso Laddie is at work in the barn, he said I'm going to play in the meadow, I answered Crossing our meadow There was a stream that had grassy banks Big trees, willows, bushes And vines for shade A solid, pebbly bed It was all turns and bends So that the water hurried until it bubbled And sang as it went In it, lively, tiny fish Colored brightly as flowers Beside it ran kill-deer, plover Came from the river to fish For a place to play on an August afternoon It couldn't be beaten The sheep had been put in the lower pasture So the cross-old Shropshire ram Was not there to bother us Come to the shade, I said to Leon And when we were comfortably seated under a big maple Weighted down with trailing grapefines I offered the bread Leon took a piece in each hand And began to eat as if he were starving Laddie would have kissed me and said What a fine treat, thank you, little sister Leon was different. He ate so greedily You had to know he was glad to get it But he wouldn't say so Not if he never got any more When you knew him you understood He wouldn't forget it And he'd be certain to do something nice for you Before the day was over to pay back We sat there talking about everything we saw And at last Leon said with a grin Shelly isn't getting much grape sap, is she? I didn't know she wanted grape sap She'd read about it in a paper It said to cut the vine of a wild grape Catch the drippings and moisten your hair This would make it glossy and grow faster What on earth does Shelly want With more hair than she has Oh, she has heard it bragged on so much She thinks people would say more If she could improve it I looked, and there was the vine Dry as could be, and a milk crock beneath it Didn't the silly know she had to cut the vine In the spring when the sap was running? Bear witness, oh, vine, that she did not Said Leon, and smelt it And smelt it, and smelt it And that she did not, said Leon And speak, ye voiceless pottery And testified that she expected to find you overflowing Too bad that she's going to be disappointed She isn't, she's going to find Ample liquid to bathe her streaming tresses Keep quiet and watch me He picked up the crock, carried it to the creek And dipped it full of water That's too much, I objected She'll know she never got a crock full From a dry vine She'll think the vine bled itself dry for her sake She isn't that silly Well, then, how silly is she, Asked Leon, spilling out half About so? Not so bad as that, less yet Anything to please the ladies, said Leon Pouring out more, then we sat And giggled a while What are you going to do now, asked Leon Play in the creek, I answered All right, I'll work near you He rolled his trousers above his knees And took the hoe, but he was in the water Most of the time. We had to climb On the bank when we came to the deep curve Under the stump of the old oak That father cut because Peter Billings Would climb it and yowl like a wild cat On cold winter nights. Pete was wrong in his head, like Patty Ryan Only worse. As we passed, we heard the faintest sounds So we lay and looked, and there In the dark place under the roots Where the water was deepest, huddled Some of the cunningest little downy Wild ducks you ever saw. We looked at each other and never said a word They came out with a hoe, and they swam downstream Faster than old ones. I stood in the shallow water behind them And kept them from going back to the deep Place, while Leon worked to catch them Every time he got one, he brought it to me And I made a bag of my apron front To put them in. This upper bell rang Before we caught all of them. We were dripping wet with creek water And perspiration, but we had the ducks Every one of them, and proudly started Home. All wager Leon Was sorry he didn't wear aprons To carry them. He did keep the last one In his hands, and held its little fluffy body Against his cheeks every few minutes. Couldn't be anything prettier Than a young duck. Except a little guinea, I said. That so, said Leon, they are Most as pretty as quail. I guess all young things they have down Are about as cunning as they can be. I don't believe I know which I like best myself. Baby kill, dears. I mean tame, things we raise. I'll take guineas. I'll say white turkeys. They seem so innocent. Nothing of ours as pretty as these. But these are wild. So they are, said Leon. Twelve of them. Won't mother be pleased? She was not in the least. She said we were a sight to behold That she was ashamed to be the mother Of two children who didn't know Tamed ducks from wild ones. She remembered instantly that Amanda Deem Had set a speckled dorking hen On millered duck eggs, where she got the eggs And what she paid for them. She said the ducks had found the creek That flowed beside Deem's barnyard Before it entered our land And they had swum away from the hen And both the hen and Amanda would be frantic. She put the ducks into a basket And said to take them back Soon as ever we got our suppers And we must hurry because we had to bathe And learn our texts for Sunday school In the morning. We went through the orchard down the hill And across the meadow until we came to the creek. By that time we were tired of the basket. The water had woven himself Of shaved and soaked hickory strips And it was heavy. The sight of water suggested the proper place For ducks anyway. We tucked it over and decided that they Would be much more comfortable swimming Than in the basket. And it was more fun to wait than to walk. So we went above the deep place. I stood in the creek to keep them from going down. And Leon poured them on the water. Pigs couldn't have acted more contrary. Those ducks liked us. They just fought to swim back to us. Anyway, we had the worst time you ever saw. Leon caught long switches to herd them with. And both of us waited And tried to drive them. But they would dart under embankments and roots And dive and hide. Before we reached the deems I wished that we had carried them, as mother told us. For we had lost three. And if we stopped to hunt them More would hide. By the time we drove them under the flood gate Crossing the creek between our land and the deems We were gone. Leon left me on the gate with both switches To keep them from going back. And he ran to call Mrs. Deem. She had red hair and a hot temper. And we were not very anxious to see her. But we had to do it. While Leon was gone I was thinking pretty fast. And I knew exactly how things would happen. First time mother saw Mrs. Deem She would ask her if the ducks were all right. And she would tell her that four were gone. Mother would ask how many she had. Then mother would remember that she started us With twelve in the basket. Oh, what's the use? Something had to be done. It had to be done quickly, too. For I could hear Amanda Deem, her boy Sammy And Leon coming across the barnyard. I looked around in despair. But when things are at the very worst There is almost always some way out. On the dry straw worked between And pushing against the panels of the flood gate. Not far from me. I saw a big black water snake. I took one good look at it. No coppery head. No geometry patterns. No rattle box. So I knew it wasn't poisonous, and wouldn't bite until it was hurt. And if it did, all you had to do was to suck the place. And it wouldn't amount to more than two little pricks As if pins had stuck you. But a big snake was a good excuse. I rolled from the flood gate among the ducks And cried, Snake! They scattered everywhere. The snake lazily uncoiled and slid across the straw Thank goodness. Amanda Deem got a fair look at it. She immediately began to jump up and down and scream. Leon grabbed a stick And came running to the water. I cried so he had to help me out first. Don't let her count them, I whispered. Leon gave me one swift look And all the mischief in his blue eyes peeped out. He was the funniest boy you ever knew anyway. Mostly he looked scowly and abused. He had a grievance against everybody And everything. He said none of us liked him. And we imposed on him. Father said that if he tanned Leon's jacket for anything And set him down to think it over He would pout a while Then he would look thoughtful Suddenly his face would light up And he would go away sparkling And you could depend upon it He would do the same thing over Or something worse inside an hour When he wanted to He could smile the most winning smile And he could coax you into anything Mother said she dreaded to have to borrow a dime from him If a peddler caught her without change Because she knew she'd be kept paying it back For the next six months. Right now he was the busiest kind of a boy. Where is it? Let me get a good look at it. Don't scare the ducks, he would cry And chase them from one bank to the other While Amanda danced and fought imaginary snakes. For a woman who had seen as many As she must have in her life It was too funny. I don't think I could laugh harder Or Leon and Sammy. We enjoyed ourselves so much That at last she began to be angry. She quit dancing, and commenced Hunting ducks for sure. She held her skirts high, poked along The banks, jumped the creek, and Didn't always get clear across. Her hair shook down, she lost a side comb And she couldn't find half the ducks. You young-uns pack right out of here She said, me and Sammy can Get them better ourselves. And if we don't find all of them We'll know where they are. I said angrily. But Leon smiled, his most angelic smile And it seemed as if he were going to cry. Of course If you want to accuse mother of stealing Your ducks, you can, he said plaintively But I should think you'd be ashamed to do it After all the trouble we took to catch Them before they swam to the river Where you never would have found one of them Come on, little sister, let's go home. He started, and I followed As soon as we got around the bend We sat on the bank, hung our feet In the water, leaned against each other And laughed. We just laughed ourselves almost sick. When Amanda's face got fire red And her hair came down, and she jumped And didn't go quite over. She looked a perfect fright. Will she ever find all of them? I asked at last. Of course, said Leon. She will comb the grass and strain the water Until she gets every one. Hoo, hoo! I looked at Leon. He went when it was very cold outside From not just the air, but the sun, And the desert, hanging in the air. He never heard the call that meant it was time For us to be home and cleaning up for Saturday. It was difficult to hurry, for after We had been soaked and scoured, We had to sit on the back steps And commit to memory versus from the Bible. At last we waited toward home. Two of the ducks we had lost Swam before us all the way. So we knew they were alive, And all they needed was finding. If she had an accused mother Even she thinks we are so mean, I'll just let her and little Sammy find them." Then we heard their voices as they came down the creek, so Leon reached me his hand and we scampered across the water and meadow, never stopping until we sat on the top rail of our back orchard fence. There we heard another call, but that was only two. We sat there, rested, and looked at the green apples above our heads, wishing they were ripe, and talking about the ducks. We could see Mrs. Deem and Sammy coming down the creek, one on each side. We slid from the fence and ran into a queer hollow that was cut into the hill between the never-fail and the Baldwin apple trees. That hollow was overgrown with weeds and full of trimmings from trees, stumps, everything that no one wanted anyplace else in the orchard. It was the only unkept spot on our land, and I always wondered why father didn't clean it out and make it look respectable. I said so to Leon as we crouched there watching down the hill where Mrs. Deem and Sammy hunted ducks with not such very grand success. They seemed to have so many they couldn't decide whether to go back or go on, so they must have found most of them. You know, I've always had my suspicions about this place, said Leon. There is somewhere on our land that people can be hidden for a long time. I can remember well enough before the war ever so long, and while it was going worst, we would find the wagon covered with more mud in the morning than had banana at night, and the horses would be splashed and tired. Once I was awake in the night and heard voices. It made me want a drink, so I went downstairs for it and ran right into the biggest blackest man who ever grew. If father and mother hadn't been there, I'd have been scared into fits. Next morning he was gone, and there wasn't a whisper. Father said I'd had bad dreams. That night the horses made another mysterious trip. Now where did they keep the black man all that day? What did they have a black man for? They were helping him run away from slavery to be free in Canada. That was all right. I'd have done the same thing. They helped a lot. Father was a friend of the governor. There were letters from him, and there was some good reason why father stayed at home when he was crazy about the war. I think this farm was what they called an underground station. What I want to know is where the station was. Maybe it's here. Let's hunt, I said. If the black men were here some time they would have to be fed, and this is not far from the house. So we took long sticks, and began poking into the weeds. Then we moved to the brush, and sure as you live, we found an old door with a big stone against it. I looked at Lien, and he looked at me. Who, who, came mother's voice? And that was the third call. Hmm, must be for us, said Lien. We'd better go, as soon as we get a little drier. He slid down the bank on one side, and I on the other, and we pushed at the stone. I thought we never would get it rolled away so we could open the door a crack. But when we did, what we saw was most surprising. There was a little room, dreadfully small, but a room. There was straw scattered over the floor, very deep on one side, where an old blanket showed that it had been a bed. Across the end there was a shelf, on it was a candlestick, with a half-burned candle in it, a pie pan with some moldy crumbs, crusts, bones in it, and a tin can. Lien picked up the can and looked in. I could see too. It had been used for water or coffee, as the plate had for food, once, but now it was stuffed full of money. I saw Lien pulse him out and then shove it back, and he came to the door white as could be, shut it behind him, and began to push at the stone. When we got in place, we put the brush over it, and fixed everything like it had been. At last Lien said, That's the time we got into something not intended for us, and if father finds it out, we are in for a good thrashing. Are you just a blubbering baby, or are you big enough to keep still? I am old enough that I could have gone to school two years ago, and I won't tell, I said stoutly. All right, come on then, said Lien. I don't know, but mother has been calling us. We started up the orchard path at the fourth call. Who, who? answered Lien, and a sick little voice, to make it sound far away. Must have made mother think we were on Deems Hill. Then we went on, side by side. Say, Lien, you found the station, didn't you? Didn't talk about it, snapped Lien. I changed the subject. Whose money do you suppose that is? Oh, cracky, you can depend on a girl to see everything, grown Lien. Do you think you'll be able to stand the switching that job will bring you, without getting sick in bed? Now I never had been sick in bed, and from what I had seen of other people who were, I never wanted to be. The idea of being switched until it made me sick was too much for me. I shut my mouth tight, and I never opened it about the station place. As we reached the maiden's blush apple tree came another call, and it sounded pretty cross, I can tell you. Lien reached his hand. Now it's time to run. Let me do the talking. We were out of breath when we reached the back door. There stood the tub, on the kitchen floor, the boiler on the stove, soap, towels, and clean clothing on chairs. Lien had his turn at having his ears washed first, because he could bathe himself, while mother did my hair. Was Mrs. Deem glad to get her ducks back? She asked, as she fine combed Lien. Ah, you never can tell whether she's glad about anything or not, growled Lien. You'd have thought from the way she acted, that we'd been trying to steal her ducks. She said if she missed any she'd know where to find them. Well, as I live, cried mother, why I wouldn't have believed that of Amanda Deem. You told her you thought they were wild, of course. I didn't have a chance to tell her anything. The minute the ducks struck the water they started right back downstream, and there was a big snake, and we had an awful time. We got wet trying to head them back, and then we didn't find all of them. They are like little eels. You should have helped Amanda. Well, you called so cross we thought you would come after us, so we had to run. One never knows, side-mother. I thought you were loitering. Of course, if I had known you were having trouble with the ducks. I think you had better go back and help them. Didn't I do enough to take them home? Didn't Sammy Deem catch ducks as fast as I can? I suppose so, said mother, and I must get your bathing out of the way of supper. You use the tub while I do little sister's hair. I almost hated Sunday because of what had to be done to my hair on Saturday to get ready for it. All week it hung in two long braids that were brushed and arranged each morning. But on Saturday it had to be combed with a fine comb, oiled, and rolled around strips of tin until Sunday morning. Mother did everything thoroughly. She raked that fine comb over our scalps until she almost raised the blood. She hadn't time to fool with tangles, and we had so much hair she didn't know what to do with all of it anyway. When she was busy talking she reached around too far and combed across her foreheads, or raked the tip of an ear. But on Sunday morning we forgot all that when we walked down the aisle with shining curls hanging below our waists. Mother was using the fine comb when she looked up, and there stood Mrs. Freshett. We could see at a glance that she was out of breath. Have I beat them? She cried. Whom are you trying to beat? Asked mother, as she told me to set a chair for Mrs. Freshett, and bring her a drink. The grave-kiver men, she said, I wanted to get to you first. While you have, said mother, rest awhile, and then tell me. But Mrs. Freshett was so excited she couldn't rest. I thought they were coming straight on down, she said, but they must have turned off at the crossroads. I want to do what's right by my children here or there, panted Mrs. Freshett. And these men seemed to think the contrivance they was selling perfectly grand and likely to be an aid to the soul's salvation. Nikes as it seemed, and convinced in as they talked, I couldn't get the consent of my mind to order, until I knowed if you was going to kiver your dead with a contraption. None of the rest of my neighbors seemed overly friendly to me, and I've told Josiah many's the time that I didn't care a wrap if they weren't, so long as I had you. Says I, Josiah, to my way of thinking, she is top crust in this neighborhood, and I'm on the safe side, apin' her ways as close as possible. I'll gladly help you all I can, said my mother. Thank ye, said Mrs. Freshett, I knowed you would. Josiah, he says to me, don't you be apin' nobody? Josiah, says I, it takes a pretty smart woman in this world to realize what she doesn't know. Now I know what I know, well enough, but all I know is like to keep me and my children in a log cabin, and on log cabin ways to the end of our time. You ain't even gotten the remains of the cabin you started in for a cow shed. Says I, Josiah, Miss Stanton knows how to get out of a cabin, and into a grand big palace, fit for a queen woman. She's a ridin' and a shinin' carriage, stid of a spring wagon. She goes abroad to dress so's you men all stand starin' like cabbage heads. Will hern go to church, and Sunday school, and college, and come out on the top of the heap? She does just what I'd like to, if I knowed how. And she ain't come upity one morsel. If I was to strike across fields to them stuck-up priors, I'd get the door slammed in my face if it was the missus. A sneer if it was the man, and at best a nod cold as an iceberg if it was the girl. Them is want to call her Princess, and encourage her, and become an more stuck-up, and she was born to be. I can, but to my mind a princess is a person who thinks of someone beside herself once in a while. I don't find the priors easy to become acquainted with, said mother. I have never met the woman. I know the man very slightly. He has been here on business once or twice. But the girl seems as if she would be nice, if one knew her. Well, I wouldn't have supposed she was your kind, said missus Freshit. If she is, I won't open my head against her any more. Anyway, it was the grave-kivers I came about. Asked what is it, missus Freshit? asked mother. It's two men selling a patent iron-kiver for to protect the graves of your dead from the sun and the rain. Who wants the graves of their dead protected from the sun and the rain? demanded my mother sharply. I said to Josiah, I don't know how she'll feel about it, but I can't do more than ask. Do they carry a sample? What is it like? Just the length and width of a grave. They got from baby to six-footer sizes. They are cast iron like the bottom of a cook's stove on the underside, but atop they are polished so they shine something beautiful. You can get them in a solid piece, or with a hole in the center about the size of a milk-crack to set flowers through. They come ten to the grave, and they are mighty stylish-looking things. I have been saving all I could skimp from butter and eggs to get some mantha and organ. But says I to her, you are getting all I can do for you every day. There lays your poor brother, and ain't had a finger lifted for him since he was took so sudden, he was gone before I knowed he was going. I never can get over Henry being took the way he was, so I says, if this would be a nice thing to have for Henry's grave, and the neighbors are going to have them for there, looks to me like some of the organ money will have to go, and we'll make it up later. I don't allow for Henry to be slighted, because he rid himself to death trying to make a president out of his pa's general. You never told me how you lost your son, said mother. Being so badly, she wiped one of my eyes full of oil. Law now didn't I? inquired Mrs. Freshet. Well, maybe that is because I ain't had a chance to tell you much of anything, you were being always so busy like, and me not wanted to wear out my welcome. It was like this. All enduring the war, Henry and me did the best we could without pa at home, but by the time it was over Henry was most a man. Seemed as if when he got home his pa was all tired out and glad to sit down and rest, but Henry was a fire to be up and going. His pa filled him so full a grant, it was running out of his ears. Come the second run the general made, peered like Henry set out to lect him all by his self. He wore every horse on the place out, ride into rallies. Sometimes he was gone three days at a stretch. He'd get one place and hear of a rally, and ten miles or so further, and blessed if he didn't ride plumb across the state, for he got through with one trip. He set out in July, and he rid straight through to November, nigh on to every day of his life. He got white and thin and nervous, from loss of sleep and lack of food, and his pa got restless, said Henry was taken the election more serious than he ever took the war. Last few days before voting was cold and raw, and Henry rid constant. Election day he couldn't vote, for he lacked a year of being of age, and he rid in with a hard chill, and white is a ghost, and he says, ma says he, I've lected Grant, but I'm all tuckered out. Put me to bed, and kiver me warm. CHAPTER II. Our Angel Boy. I forgot the sting in my eyes, watching Mrs. Freshette. She was the largest woman I knew, and strong as most men. Her hair was black and glistening. Her eyes black, her cheeks red. Her skin a clear, even dark tint. She was handsome, she was honest, and she was in earnest over everything. There was something about her, or her family, that had to be told in whispers, and some of the neighbors would have nothing to do with her. But mother said Mrs. Freshette was doing the very best she knew, and for the sake of that, and of her children, anyone who wouldn't help her was not a Christian, and not to be a Christian was the very worst thing that could happen to you. I stared at her steadily. She talked straight along, so rapidly you scarcely could keep up with the words. You couldn't if you wanted to think about any of them between. There was not a quiver in her voice, but from her eyes there rolled steadily the biggest, roundest tears I ever saw. They ran down her cheeks, formed a stream in the first groove of her double chin, overflowed it, and dripped, drop, drop, a drop at a time, unto the breast of her stiffly starched calico dress, and from there shot to her knees. No time at all till he was choking and burning red with fever, and his paw in me, stout was weebie, couldn't hold him down, nor keep him kivbered. He was speech-ifying to be anything you ever heard. His paw said he was repeating what he'd heard said by every big stump-speaker from Greeley to Logan. When he got so hoarse we couldn't tell what he said any more. He just mouthed it, and at last he dropped back, and laid like he was pinned to the sheets, and I thought he was resting. But twain't an hour till he was gone. Finally Mrs. Freshett lifted her apron, covered her face, and sobbed, until her broad shoulders shook. Oh, you poor soul, said my mother, I'm so sorry for you. I never know'd he was a-going until he was gone, she said. He was the only one of mine I ever lost, and I thought it would just lay me out. I couldn't a-stud it if I hadn't a-know'd he was saved. I well know my Henry went straight to heaven. Why, Miss Staten, he rizzed right up in bed at the last, and clear and strong. He just yelled it, hurrah for Grant. My mother's fingers tightened in my hair, until I thought she would pull out a lot, and I could feel her knees stiffen. Leon just whooped. Mother sprang up and ran to the door. Leon, she cried, then there was a slam. What in the world is the matter? She asked. Stepped out of the tub right on the soap, and it threw me down, explained Leon. For mercy's sake be careful, said my mother, and shut the door. It wasn't a minute, before the knob turned, and it opened again a little. I never saw mother's face look so queer. But at last, she said softly, you were thinking of the grave cover for him? Yes, but I wanted to ask you before I bound myself. I heard you lost, too, when the scarlet fever was raging, and I'm going to do just what you do. If you have kivers, I will. If you don't like them when you see how bright and shiny they are, I won't get any either. I can tell you without seeing them, Mrs. Freshett, said my mother. Wrapping a strand of hair around the tin so tight, I slipped up my fingers to feel whether my neck wasn't like a bull-eye-hole looks, and it was. I don't want any covers for the graves of my dead, but grass and flowers and sky and clouds. I like the rain to fall on them, and the sun to shine, so that the grass and flowers will grow. If you are satisfied that the soul of Henry is safe in heaven, that is all that is necessary. Laying a slab of iron on top of earth six feet above his body will make no difference to him. If he is singing with the angels, by all means save your money for the organ. I don't know about the singing, but I'd stake my last red scent he's still hollering for grant. I was kind of took with the idea that things was so shiny and skilped at the edges, peered like it was pain considerable respect to the dead to giveer them that away. What good would it do? asked mother. The sun shining on the iron would make it so hot it would burn any flower you tried to plant in the opening. The water couldn't reach the roots, and all that fell on the slab would run off and make it that much wetter at the edges. The iron would soon rust and grow dreadfully ugly lying under winter snow. There is nothing at all in it. Save a method to work on the feelings of the living, and get them to pay their money for something that wouldn't affect their dead a particle. To it be a poor idea for me, said Mrs. Freshett, I said to the men that I wanted to honor Henry all I could. But with my bulk I'd have all I could do, come judgment day, to bust my box and heave up the clouds without having to heist up a piece of iron and climb from under it. Mother stiffened, and Leon slipped again. He could have more accidents than any boy I ever knew. But it was only a few minutes until he came to mother and gave her a Bible to mark the verses he had to learn to recite at Sunday school next day. Mother couldn't take the time when she had company, so she asked if he weren't big enough to pick out ten proper verses and learn them by himself. And he said, of course he was. He took his Bible, and he and May and I sat on the back steps and studied our verses. He and May were so big they had ten, but I had only two, and mine were not very long. Leon giggled half the time he was studying. I haven't found anything so very funny in the Bible. Every few minutes he would whisper to himself, that's a good one. He took the book and heard May do hers until she had them perfectly. Then he went and sat on the back fence with his book, and studied as I never before had seen him. Mrs. Frecious stayed so long, mother had no time to hear him. But he told her he had them all learned so he could repeat them without a mistake. Next morning mother was busy, so she had no time then. Father Shelley and I rode on the front seat, mother May and Sally on the back, while the boys started early and walked. When we reached the top of the hill, the road was lined with carriages, wagons, spring wagons, and saddle horses. Father found a place for our team, and we went down the walk between the hitching-rack and the cemetery fence. Mother opened the gate, and knelt beside two small graves, covered with grass, shaded by yellow rose-bushes, and marked with little white stones. She laid some flowers on each, and wiped the dust from the carved letters with her handkerchief. The little sisters who had scarlet fever and whooping cough lay there. Mother was still a minute, and then she said softly, "'The Lord has given, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord!' She was very pale when she came to us, but her eyes were bright, and she smiled as she put her arms around as many of us as she could reach. "'What a beautiful horse,' said Sally. Look at that saddle and bridle. The prior girl is here.' "'Why should she come?' asked Shelley. "'To show her fine clothes, and queen it over us.' "'Children, children,' said Mother, judge not. This is a house of worship. The Lord may be drawing her in his own way. It is for us to help him by being kind and making her welcome.' At the church door we parted, and sat with our teachers. But for the first time, as I went down the aisle, I was not thinking of my linen dress, my patent leather slippers, and my pretty curls. It suddenly seemed cheap to me to twist my hair when it was straight as a shingle, and cut my head on tin. If the Lord had wanted me to have curls, my hair would have been like Sally's. Seemed to me hers tried to see in what big soft curls it could roll. May said ours was so straight, it bent back the other way. Anyway, I made up my mind to talk it over with Father, and always wear braids after that, if I could get him to coax Mother to let me. Our church was quite new, and it was beautiful. All the casings were oiled wood, and the walls had just a little yellow in the last skin-coating used to make them smooth, so they were a creamy color, and the blinds were yellow. The windows were wide open, and the wind drifted through, while the birds sang as much as they ever do in August, among the trees and bushes of the cemetery. Everyone had planted so many flowers of all kinds on the graves, you could sense sweet odors. Often a big black-striped brown butterfly came sailing in through one of the windows, followed the draft across the room, and out of the other. I was thinking something funny. It was about what the princess had said of other people, and whether hers were worse. I looked at my father sitting in calm dignity in his Sunday suit, and thought him quite as fine and handsome as Mother did. Every Sabbath he wore the same suit. He sat in the same spot. He worshipped the Lord in his calm, earnest way. The ministers changed, but Father was as much a part of the service as the Bible on the desk, or the communion table. I wondered if people said things about him, and if they did, what they were. I never had heard. Twisting in my seat, one by one, I studied the faces on the men's side, and then the woman. It was a mighty good-looking crowd. Some had finer clothes than others. That is always the way. But as a rule, everyone was clean, neat, and good to see. From some you scarcely could turn away. There was widowfall. She was French, from Virginia, and she talked like little tinkly notes of music. I just love to hear her. And she walked like high-up royalty. Her dress was always black, with white bands at the neck and sleeves, black, rustly silk, and her eyes and hair were like the dress. There was a little red on her cheeks and lips, and her face was always grave, until she saw you directly before her, and then she smiled the sweetest smile. Maybe Sarah Hood was not pretty, but there was something about her lean face and shining eyes that made you look twice before you were sure of it. And by that time you had got so used to her, you liked her better as she was, and wouldn't have changed her for anything. Mrs. Fritz had a pretty face and dresses and manners, and so did Hannah Dover, only she talked too much. So I studied them, and remembered what the princess had said. And I wondered if she heard someone say that Peter Justice beat his wife, or if she showed it in her face and manner. She reminded me of a scared cow slip that had been cut and laid in the sun an hour. I don't know as that expresses it. Perhaps a flower couldn't look scared, but it could be wilted and faded. I wondered if she ever had bright hair, laughing eyes, and red in her lips and cheeks. She must have been pretty if she had. At last I reached my mother. There was nothing scared or faded about her, and she was dreadfully sick too, once in a while since she had the fever. She was a little bit of a woman, colored like a wild rose petal, face and body, a piece of pink porcelain dutch, father said. She had brown eyes, hair like silk, and she always had three best dresses. There was one of alpaca, or woollen, of black, gray, or brown, and two silks. Always there was a fine, rustly black one, with a bonnet and mantle to match, and then a softer, finer one, of either gold, brown, like her hair, or dainty gray, like a dove's wing. When these grew too old for fine use, she wore them to Sunday school, and had a fresh one for best. There was a new gray in her closet at home, so she put on the old brown today, and she was lovely in it. Usually the minister didn't come for church services until Sunday school was half over, so the superintendent read a chapter. Daddy Debs prayed, and all of us stood up and sang, bring out the joy bells. Then the superintendent read the lessons over, as impressively as he could. The secretary made his report. We sang another song, gathered the pennies, and each teacher took a class and talked over the lesson a few minutes. Then we repeated the verses we had committed to memory to our teachers. The member of each class who had learned the nicest text, and knew them best, was selected to recite before the school. Beginning with the littlest people, we came to the big folks. Each one recited two texts until they reached the class above mine. We walked to the front, stood inside the altar, made a little bow, and the superintendent kept score. I could see that mother appeared worried when Leon's name was called for his class, for she hadn't heard him, and she was afraid he would forget. Among the funny things about Leon was this. While you had to drive other boys of his age to recite, you almost had to hold him to keep him from it. Father said he was born for a politician or preacher, if he would be good, and grow into the right kind of a man to do such responsible work. I forgot several last sabbath, so I have thirteen today, he said politely. Of course no one expected anything like that. You never knew what might happen when Leon did anything. He must have been about sixteen. He was a slender lad, having almost sandy hair, like his English grandfather. He wore a white ruffled shirt with a broad collar, and cuffs turning back over his black jacket, and his trousers fitted his slight legs closely. The wind whipped his soft black tie a little, and ruffled the light hair where it was longest and wavy above his forehead. Such a perfect picture of innocence you never saw. There was one part of him that couldn't be described any better than the way Mr. Renzi told about his brother in his address to the Romans in MacGuffey's sixth. The look of heaven on his face stayed most of the time. Again, there was a delish twinkle that sparkled and flashed while he was thinking up something mischievous to do. When he was fighting angry, and going to thrash Absalom Saunders, or die trying, he was plain white, and his eyes were like steel. Mother called him Weiscope half the time. I can only spell the way that sounds, but it means Whitehead, and she always used that name when she loved him most. The look of heaven was strong on his face now. One, said the recording secretary. Jesus wept, answered Leon promptly. There was not a sound in the church. You could almost hear the butterflies pass. Father looked down, and laid his lower lip in folds with his fingers, like he did sometimes when it wouldn't behave to suit him. Two, said the secretary, after just a breath of pause. Leon looked over the congregation easily, and then fastened his eyes on Abram Saunders, the father of Absalom, and said reprovingly, give not sleep to thine eyes, nor slumber to thine eyelids. Abram straightened up suddenly and blinked in astonishment, while father held fast to his lip. Three, called the secretary hurriedly. Leon shifted his gaze to Betsy Alton, who hadn't spoken to her next door neighbor in five years. Hatred stirreth up strife, he told her softly, but love covereth all sins. Things were so quiet it seemed as if the air would snap. Four, the mild blue eyes traveled back to the men's side and settled on Isaac Thomas, a man too lazy to plow in so land his father had left him. They were not so mild, and the voice was touched with a command, go to the aunt thou sluggard, consider her ways, and be wise. Still that silence. Five, said the secretary hurriedly, as if he wished it were over. Back came the eyes to the woman's side, and past all question, looked straight at handed over. As a jewel of gold and a swine snout, so is a fair woman without discretion. Six, said the secretary, and looked appealingly at father, whose face was filled with dismay. Again Leon's eyes crossed the aisle, and he looked directly at the man, whom everybody in the community called stiff-necked Johnny. I think he was rather proud of it. He worked so hard to keep them doing it. Lift not your horn on high, speak not with a stiff neck, Leon commanded him. Toward the door someone tittered. Seven, called the secretary hastily. Leon glanced her on the room. But how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity. He announced and delighted tones, as if he had found it out by himself. Eight, called the secretary, with something like a breath of relief. Our angel boy never had looked so angelic, and he was beaming on the princess. Thou art all fair, my love. There is no spot in thee, he told her. Laddie would thrash him for that. Instantly after, nine, he recited straight at Laddie. I made a covenant with mine eyes. Why then should I think upon a maid? More than one giggled that time. Ten, came almost sharply. Leon looked scared for the first time. He actually seemed to shiver. Maybe he realized at last that it was a pretty serious thing he was doing. When he spoke, he said these words in the most surprised voice you ever heard. I was almost in all evil in the midst of the congregation and assembly. Eleven. Perhaps these words are in the Bible. They are not there to read the way Leon repeated them, for he put a short pause after the first name, and he glanced toward our father. Jesus Christ. The same, yesterday and today and forever. Sure as you live, my mother's shoulders shook. Twelve. Suddenly, Leon seemed to be forsaken. He surely shrank in size and appeared abused. When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up. He announced, and looked as happy over the ending as he had seemed forlorn at the beginning. Thirteen. The Lord is on my side. I will not fear what can man do unto me, inquired Leon of everyone in the church. Then he soberly made a bow and walked to his seat. Father's voice broke that silence. Let us kneel in prayer, he said. He took a step forward. Nelt laid his hand on the altar, closed his eyes and turned his face upward. Our heavenly Father, we come before thee in a trying situation, he said. Thy word of truth has been spoken to us by a thoughtless boy, whether in a spirit of helpfulness or of jest, thou knowest. Since we are reasoning creatures, it little matters in what form thy truth comes to us. The essential thing is that we soften our hearts for its entrance and grow in grace by its application. Tears of compassion, such as our dear Savior wept, are in our eyes this morning as we plead with thee to help us apply these words to the betterment of this community. Then Father began to pray. If the Lord had been standing six feet in front of him and his life had depended on what he said, he could have prayed no harder. Goodness knows how fathers remember. He began at Jesus wept and told about this sinful world and why he wept over it. Then one at a time he took those other 12 verses and hammered them down where they belonged much harder than Leon ever could by merely looking at people. After that he prayed all around each one so fervently that those who had been hit the very worst cried aloud and said, amen. You wouldn't think anyone could do a thing like that, but I heard and saw my father do it. When he arose the tears were running down his cheeks and before him stood Leon. He was white as could be, but he spoke out loudly and clearly. Please forgive me, sir. I didn't intend to hurt your feelings. Please everyone forgive me. I didn't mean to offend anyone. It happened through hunting short verses. All the short ones seemed to be like that and they made me think. He got no farther. Father must have been afraid of what he might say next. He threw his arms around Leon's shoulders, drew him to the seat, and with the tears still rolling he laughed as happily as you ever heard and he cried sweeping through the gates all join in. You never heard such singing in your life. That was another wonderful thing. My father didn't know the notes. He couldn't sing, he said so himself. Neither could half the people there, yet all of them were singing at the top of their voices and I don't believe the angels in heaven could make grander music. My father was leading. These, these are they who win the conflict dire. You could tell Immanuel Ripley had been in the war from the way he roared. Boldly have stood amidst the hottest fire. The widow fall sort above all of them on the next line. Her man was there and maybe she was lonely and would have been glad to go to him. Jesus says now come up higher than my little mother washed in the blood of the lamb. Like thunder all of them roared into the chorus sweeping through the gates to the new Jerusalem. You wouldn't have been left out of that company for anything in all this world and nothing ever could have made you want to go so badly as to hear everyone sing straight from the heart a grand old song like that. It is no right way to have to sit and keep still and pay other people money to sing about heaven to you. No matter if you can't sing by note if your heart and soul are full until they are running over so that you are forced to sing as those people did. Whether you can or not you are sure to be straight on the way to the gates. Before three lines were finished my father was keeping time like a choir master. His face all beaming with shining light. Mother was rocking on her toes like a wood robin on a twig at twilight. And at the end of the chorus she cried glory right out loud and turned and started down the aisle shaking hands with everyone singing as she went. When she reached Betsy Alton she held her hand and led her down the aisle straight towards Rachel Brown. When Rachel saw them coming she hurried to meet them and they shook hands and were glad to make up as any two people you ever saw. It must have been perfectly dreadful to see a woman every day for five years and not to give her a pie when you felt sure yours were better than she could make or loan her a new pattern or tell her first who had a baby or was married or dead or anything like that. It was no wonder they felt glad. Mother came on and as she passed me the verses were all finished and everyone began talking and moving. Johnny Dover forgot his neck and shook hands too and father pronounced the benediction. He always had to when the minister wasn't there because he was ordained himself and you didn't dare pronounce the benediction unless you were. Everyone began talking again and wondering if the minister wouldn't come soon and someone went out to see. There was mother standing only a few feet from the princess and I thought of something. I had seen it done often enough but I never had tried it myself yet I wanted to so badly there was no time to think how scared I would be. I took mother's hand and led her a few steps farther and said, mother this is my friend Pamela Pryor. I believe I did it fairly well. Mother must have been surprised but she put out her hand. I didn't know Miss Pryor and you were acquainted. It's only been a little while, I told her. I met her when I was on some business with the fairies. They know everything and they told me her father was busy. I thought she wouldn't want me to tell that he was plain cross where everyone could hear so I said busy for politeness and her mother not very strong and that she was a good girl and dreadfully lonesome. Can't you do something mother? Well I should think so said mother for her heart was soft as rose leaves. Maybe you won't believe this but it's quite true. My mother took the princess's arm and led her to Sally and Shelley and introduced her to all the girls. By the time the minister came and mother went back to her seat she had forgotten all about the indisposed word she disliked and as you live she invited the princess to go home with us to dinner. She stood tall and straight her eyes very bright and her cheeks a little redder than usual as she shook hands and said a few pleasant words that were like from a book. They fitted and were so right. When mother asked her to dinner she said thank you kindly I should be glad to go but my people expect me at home and they would be uneasy. Perhaps you would allow me to ride over some weekday and become acquainted. Mother said she would be happy to have her and Shelley said so too but Sally was none too cordial. She had dark curls and pink cheeks herself and everyone had said she was the prettiest girl in the county before Shelley began to blossom out and show what she was going to be. Sally never minded that but when the princess came she was a little taller and her hair was a trifle longer and heavier and blacker and her eyes were a little larger and darker and where Sally had pink skin and red lips the princess was dark as olive and her lips and cheeks were like red velvet. Anyway the princess had said she would come over mother and Shelley had been decent to her and Sally hadn't been exactly insulting. It would be a little more than you could expect for her to be wild about the princess. I believe she was pleased over having been invited to dinner and as she was a stranger she couldn't know that mother had what we called the invitation habit. I have seen her ask from 15 to 20 in one trip down the aisle on Sunday morning. She wanted them to come too. The more who came the better she liked it. If the hitching wreck and barnyard were full on Sunday she just beamed. If the sermon pleased her she invited more. That morning she was feeling so good she asked 17 and as she only had dressed six chickens. Third table backs and ham for me as usual but when the prospects were as now I always managed to coax a few gizzards from Candace. She didn't dare give me livers. They were counted. Almost everyone in the church was the happiest that morning they had been in years. When the preacher came he breathed it from the air and it worked on him so he preached the best sermon he ever had and never knew that Leon made him do it. Maybe after all it's a good thing to tell people about their meanness and give them a stirring up once in a while. End of chapter two. Chapter three part one of Lattie. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Bridget Gage. Lattie by Gene Stratton Porter. Chapter three part one, Mr. Pryor's Door. Grief will be joy if on its edge fall soft that holiest ray. Joy will be grief if no faint pledge be there of heavenly day. Have Sally and Peter said anything about getting married yet? Asked my big sister Lucy of mother. Lucy was home on a visit. She was bathing her baby and mother was sewing. Not a word. Are they engaged? Sally hasn't mentioned it. Well, can't you find out? How could I? Asked mother. Why watch them a little and see how they act when they are together. If he kisses her when he leaves, of course they are engaged. It would be best to wait until Sally tells me, laughed mother. I heard this from the back steps. Neither mother nor Lucy knew I was there. I went in to see if they would let me take the baby. Of course they wouldn't. Mother took it herself. She was rocking and softly singing my Dutch song that I loved best. I can't spell it, but it sounds like this. Trust, trust, trill. Deer power ridder fill. Fill spring of ec. Pludge schlitter, power in der dreck. Once I asked mother to sing it in English. And she couldn't, because it didn't rhyme that way. And the words wouldn't fit the notes. It was just trot, trot, trot. A boy wrote a colt. The colt sprang aside. Down went the boy in the dirt. Aw, don't sing my song to that little red pug-nosed bald head, I said. Really, it was a very nice baby. I only said that because I wanted to hold it and mother wouldn't give it up. I tried to coax May to the day I'm snake hunting, but she couldn't go, so I had to amuse myself. I had a doll, but I never played with it, except when I was dressed up on Sunday. Anyway, what's the use of a doll when there's a live baby in the house? I didn't care much for my playhouse, since I had seen one so much finer that Laddie had made for the princess. Of course, I knew moss wouldn't take root in our orchard as it did in the woods. Neither would willow cuttings or the red flowers. Finally, I decided to go hunting. I went into the garden and gathered every ripe touch-me-not pod I could find, and all the portulaca. Then I stripped the tiger lilies of each little black ball at the base of the leaves and took all the four o'clock seed there was. Then I got my biggest alder pop gun and started up the road toward Sarah Hood's. I was going along singing a little verse. It wasn't Dutch either. The old baby could have that if it wanted it. Soon as I got from sight of the house, I made a powder horn of a curled leaf, loaded my gun with portulaca powder, rammed in a tiger lily-bullet, laid the weapon across my shoulder, and stepped high and lightly, as Laddie does when he's in the big woods hunting for squirrel. It must have been my own singing. I am rather good at hearing things, but I never noticed a sound that time until a voice like a rusty saw said, "'Good morning, Nimrod.' I sprang from the soft dust and landed among the dog fennel of a fence corner in a flying heap. Then I looked, it was the princess's father, tall and gray and grim, riding a big black horse that seemed as if it had been curried with a fine comb and brushed with a grease rag. "'Good morning,' I said when I could speak. "'Am I correct in the surmise that you are on the chase with a pop gun?' he asked politely. "'Yes, sir,' I answered, "'getting my breath the best I could.' It came easier after I noticed that he didn't seem to be angry about anything. "'Where is your hunting-ground? And what game are you after?' he asked gravely. "'You can see the great African jungle over there. I am going to hunt for lions and tigers. You always must answer politely anyone who speaks to you, and you get soundly thrashed, at least at our house, if you don't be politest of all, to an older person, especially with white hair. Father is extremely particular about white hair. It is a crown of glory when it is found in the way of the Lord. Malin prior had enough crown of glory for three men, but maybe his wasn't exactly glory, because he wasn't in the way of the Lord. He was in a way of his own. He must have had much confidence in himself. At our house we would rather trust in the Lord. I only told him about the lions and tigers, because he asked me, and that was the way I played. But you should have heard him laugh. You wouldn't have supposed to see him that he could. "'Umpf!' he said at last. I am a little curious about your ammunition. Just how do you bring down your prey?' I used Portulaca powder and Tiger Lily bullets on the tigers, and four o'clock's on the lions. I said, "'You could have heard him a mile, dried up as he was.' I used to wear a red coat and ride to the hounds fox hunting,' he said. "'It's great sport. Won't you take me with you to the jungle?' I didn't want him in the least. But if anyone older asks right out to go with you, what can you do? I am going to tell several things you won't believe, and this is one of them. He got off his horse, tied it to the fence, and climbed over after me. He went on asking questions, and of course I had to tell him. Most of what he wanted to know, his people should have taught him before he was ten years old, but Father says they do things differently in England. There doesn't seem to be many trees in the jungle. "'Well, there's one, and it's about the most important on our land,' I told him. Father wouldn't cut it down for a farm. You see that little dark bag nearly as big as your fist, swinging out there on that limb? Well, every spring one of these birds, yellow as orange peel, with velvet black wings, weaves a nest like that, and over on that big branch, high up, one just as bright red as the other is yellow, and the same black wings builds a cradle for his babies. Father says a red bird and a yellow one keeping house in the same tree is the biggest thing that ever happened in our family. They come every year, and that is their tree. I believe Father would shoot anyone who drove them away. "'Your father is a gunner also,' he asked, and I thought he was laughing to himself. He's enough of a gunner to bring mother in a wagon from Pennsylvania all the way here, and he kept wolves, bears, Indians, and gypsies from her, and shot things for food. Yes, sir, my father can shoot if he wants to, better than any of our family, except Lattie.' "'And does Lattie shoot well?' "'Lattie does everything well,' I answered proudly. He won't try to do anything at all, until he practices so he can do it well.' "'Score one for Lattie,' he said in a queer voice. "'Are you in a hurry about the lions and tigers?' "'Not at all,' he answered. "'Well, here I always stop and let Governor Oggsleby go swimming,' I said. Mr. Mullen Pryor, sat on the bank of our little creek, took off his hat, and shook back his hair as if the wind felt good on his forehead. I fished Dick Ogglesby from the ammunition in my apron pocket, and held him toward the cross-old man, and he wasn't cross at all. It's funny how you come to get such wrong ideas about people.' "'My big married sister, who lives in Westchester, sent him to me last Christmas,' I explained. I have another doll, great big, with a scotch-plad dress, made from pieces of mine, but I only play with her on Sunday when I dare not do much else. I like Dick the best because he fits my apron pocket.' Father wanted me to change his name, and call him Oliver P. Morton, after a friend of his. But I told him this doll had to be called by the name he came with, and if he wanted me to have one named for his friend, to get it, and I'd play with it. What did he do?' He didn't want one named Morton that much. Mr. Pryor took Dick Ogglesby in his fingers, and looked at his curly black hair and blue eyes, his chubby, outstretched arms, like a baby when it wants you to take it, and his plump little feet, and the white shirt with red stripes, all of peace of him, as he was made, and said, "'The honorable governor of our sister's state seems a little weighty. I am at a loss to understand how he swims.' "'It's a new way,' I said. He just stands still, and the water swims around him. It's very easy for him.' Then I carried Dick to the water, waded in, and stood him against a stone. Something funny happened instantly. It always did. I found it out one day when I got some apple butter on the governor, giving him a bite of my bread, and put him in the wash bowl to soak. He was two-and-a-half inches tall, but the minute you stood him in water, he went down to about half that height, and spread out to twice his size around. You should have heard, Mr. Pryor. If you will lie on that bank and watch, you'll have more to laugh at than that, I promised." He lay down, and never paid the least attention to his clothes. Pretty soon a little chubfish came swimming around to make friends with Governor Oglesby, and then a shinor, and some more chub. They nibbled at his hands and toes, and then went flashing away, and from under the stone came backing a big crayfish, and seized the governor by the leg, and started dragging him, so I had to jump in and stop it. I took a shot at the crayfish with a tiger ammunition, and then loaded for lions. We went on until the marsh became a thicket of cattails, bullrushes, willow bushes, and blue flags. Then I found a path where the lions left the jungle, hid Mr. Pryor, and told him he must be very still, or they wouldn't come. At last I heard one. I touched Mr. Pryor's sleeve to warn him to keep his eyes on the trail. Pretty soon the lion came in sight. Really, it was only a little gray rabbit hopping along. But when it was opposite us, I pinged it in the side. It jumped up and turned to Somersault with surprise, and squealed a funny little squeal. Well, I wondered if Mr. Pryor's people didn't hear him, and think he had gone crazy as Patty Ryan. I never did hear anyone laugh so. I thought if he enjoyed it like that, I'd let him shoot one. I do may sometimes. So we went to another place I knew, where there was a tiger's gun, and I loaded with tiger-villi bullets, gave him the gun, and showed him where to aim. After we had waited a long time, out came a musk-wrap, and started for the river. I looked to see why Mr. Pryor didn't shoot. And there he was gazing at it, as if a snake had charmed him, his hands shaking a little, his cheeks almost red, his eyes very bright. Shoot! I whispered. It won't stay all day. He forgot how to push the ramrod like I showed him, so he reached out, and tried to hit it with the gun. Don't do that, I said. But it's getting away, it's getting away, he cried. Well, what if it is, I asked, half-provoked. Do you suppose I really would hurt a poor little musk-wrap? Maybe it has six hungry babies in its home. Oh, that way, he said, but he kept looking at it, so he made me think if I hadn't been there, he would have thrown a stone, or hit it with a stick. It is perfectly wonderful about how some men can't get along without killing things. Such little bits of helpless creatures, too. I thought he'd better be got from the jungle, so I invited him to see the place at the foot of the hill, before our orchard, where some men thought they had discovered gold before the war. They had been to California in forty-nine, and although they didn't come home with millions, or anything else except sick and tired, they thought they had learned enough about gold to know it when they saw it. I told him about it, and he was interested and anxious to see the place. If there had been a shovel, I'm quite sure he would have gone to digging. He kept poking around with his boot-toe, and he said maybe the yokels didn't look good. He said our meadow was a beautiful place, and when he praised the creek, I told him about the wild ducks, and he laughed again. He didn't seem to be the same man when we went back to the road. I pulled some sweet marsh grass, and gave his horse bites, so Mr. Pryor asked if I liked animals. I said I loved horses, laddies best of all. He asked about it, and I told him. Hasn't your father but one thoroughbred? Father hasn't any, I said. Floss really belongs to Laddie, and we are mighty glad he has her. You should have one soon yourself, he said. Well, if the rest of them will hurry up and marry off, so the expenses won't be so heavy, maybe I can. How many of there are you, he asked. Only twelve, I said. He looked down the road at our house. Do you mean to tell me you have twelve children there? He inquired. Oh, no, I answered. Some of the big boys have gone into business in the cities around, and some of the girls are married. Mother says she has only to show her girls in the cities to have them snapped up like hotcakes. I fancy that is the truth, he said. I've passed the one who rides the little black pony, and she has a picture, a fine, healthy, sensible, appearing young woman. I don't think she's as pretty as your girl, I said. Yes, I don't either, he replied, smiling at me. Then he mounted his horse. I don't remember that I ever have passed that house, he said, without hearing someone singing. Does it go on all the time? Yes, unless mother is sick. And what is it all about? Oh, just joy, gladness that we are alive, that we have things to do that we like, and praising the Lord. Ompf! said Mr. Pryor. It's just letting out what our hearts are full of, I told him. Don't you know that song, tis the old-time religion, and you cannot keep it still? He shook his head. It's an awful nice song, I explained. After it sings about all the other things religion is good for, there is one line that says, it's good for those in trouble. I looked at him straight and hard, but he only turned white and seemed sick. So, said Mr. Pryor, well, thank you for the most interesting morning I've had, this side of England. I should be delighted if you would come and hunt lions in my woods with me some time. Oh, do you open the door to children? Certainly we open the door to children, he said. And as I live, he looked so sad, I couldn't help thinking he was sorry to close it against anyone. A mystery is the dreadfulest thing. Then if children don't matter, maybe I can come lion-hunting sometime with the princess. After she has made the visit at our house, she said she would. Indeed, I hadn't been informed that my daughter contemplated visiting your house, he said. When was it arranged? My mother invited her last Sunday. I didn't like the way he said, oh, some way it seemed insulting to my mother. She did it to please me, I said. There was a fairy princess told me the other day that your girl felt like a stranger, and that to be a stranger was the hardest thing in all the world. She sat a little away from the others, and she looked so lonely. I pulled my mother's sleeve and led her to your girl and made them shake hands, and then mother had to ask her to come to dinner with us. She always invites everyone she meets coming down the aisle. She couldn't help asking your girl, too. She said she was expected at home, but she'd come some day and get acquainted. She needn't if you object. My mother only asked her because she thought she was lonely, and maybe she wanted to come. He sat there staring straight ahead, and he seemed to grow whiter, and older, and colder every minute. Suddenly she is lonely, he said at last. This isn't much like the life she left. Perhaps she does feel herself a stranger. It was very kind of your mother to invite her. If she wants to come, I shall make no objections. No, but my father will, I said. He straightened up, as if something had hit him. Why will he object? On account of what you said about God at our house, I told him. And then, too, father's people were from England, and he says real Englishmen have their doors wide open and welcome people who offer friendliness. Mr. Pryor hit his horse an awful blow. It reared and went racing up the road until I thought it was running away. I could see I had made him angry enough to burst. Mother always tells me not to repeat things, but I'm not smart enough to know what to say, so I don't see what is left but to tell what mother or father or lad, he says, when grown people ask me questions. I went home, but everyone was too busy even to look at me. So I took Bobby under my arm, hunted father, and told him all about the morning. I wondered what he would think. I never found out. He wouldn't say anything, so Bobby and I went across the lane and climbed the gate into the orchard to see if Hezekiah were there and wanted to fight. He hadn't time to fight Bobby because he was busy chasing every wild jay from our orchard. By the time he got that done he was tired, so he came hopping along on branches above us as Bobby and I went down the west fence beside the lane. If I had been compelled to choose the side of our orchard I liked best, I don't know which I would have selected. The west side, that is the one behind the dooryard, was running over with interesting things. Two gates opened into it, one from near each corner of the yard. Between these there was quite a wide level space where mother fed the big chickens and kept the hens and coops with little ones. She had to have them close enough that the big hawks were afraid to come to earth, or they would take more chickens than they could pay for by cleaning rabbits, snakes, and mice from the fields. Then came a double row of prized peach trees, rare fruit that mother canned to take to county fairs. One wore big white freestones, and around the seed they were pink as a rose. One was a white cling, and one was yellow. There was a yellow freestone, as big as a yellow sun, and as golden, and the queerest of all was a cling purple as a beet. Sometimes father read about the hairs of the head being numbered, because we were so precious in the sight of the Almighty. Mother was just as particular with her purple tree. Every peach on it was counted, and if we found one on the ground we had to carry it to her, because it might be sound enough to can or spice for a fair, or she had promised the seed to someone half way across the state. At each end of the Petro was an enormous big pear tree. Not far from one the chicken house stood on the path to the barn, and beside the other the smoke house, with the dog kennel a yard away. Father said there was a distinct relationship between a smoke house and a dog kennel, and bulldogs were best. Just at present we were out of bulldogs, but Jones, Jenkins, and Co. could make as much noise as any dog you ever heard. On the left grew the plum trees all the way to the south fence, and I think there was one of every kind in the fruit catalogs. Father spent hours pruning, grafting, and fertilizing them. Instead they required twice as much work as peaches. Around the other side of the orchard were two rows of peach trees of every variety, but one cling on the north was just a little the best of any, and we might eat all we wanted from any tree we liked. After Father tested them and said, peaches are ripe. In the middle were the apple, selected trees, planted, trimmed, and cultivated like human beings. The apples were so big and fine they were picked by hand, wrapped in paper, packed in barrels, and all we could not use at home went to J.B. White in Fort Wayne for the biggest fruit house in the state. My, but Father was proud. He always packed especially fine ones for Mr. White's family. He said he liked him because he was a real sandy Scotchman who knew when an apple was ripe and wasn't afraid to say so. On the south side of the orchard there was the earliest June apple tree. The apples were small, bright red with yellow stripes, crisp, juicy, and sweet enough to be just ripe. The tree was very large, and so heavy it leaned far to the northeast. This sounds like make-believe, but it's gospel truth. Almost two feet from the ground there was a big round growth, the size of a hash-bowl. The tree must have been hurt when very small, and the place enlarged with a trunk. Now it made a grand step. If you understood that no one could keep from running the last few rods of the tree, then figured on the help to be had from this step you could see how we went up at like squirrels. While the bark on the south side was worn away and the trunk was smooth and shiny, the birds loved to nest among the branches, and under the peach tree in the fence-corner opposite was a big bed of my mother's favorite wildflowers, Blue-eyed Mary's. They had dainty stems from six to eight inches high, and delicate heads of bloom made up of little flowers, two petals up, blue, two turning down, white. Perhaps you don't know about anything prettier than that. They were made in hair-furns among them, too. And the biggest leacons you ever saw on the fence, while in the hollow of a rotten rail, a little chippy bird always built a hair-nest. She got the hairs at our barn, for most of them were gray from her carriage-horses, Ned and Joe. All down that side of the orchard, the fence-corner's were filled with long grass and wildflowers, a few alder-bushes left to furnish berries for the birds, and wild roses for us, to keep their beauty impressed upon us, Father said. The east end ran along the brow of a hill so steep we coasted down it on the big meatboard all winter. The board was six inches thick, two and a half feet wide, and six long. Father said slipping over ice and snow gave it the good scouring it needed, and it was thick enough to last all our lives, so we might play with it as we pleased. At least seven of us could go skimming down that hill, and halfway across the meadow on it. In the very place we slid across, in summer lay the cowslip bed. The world is full of beautiful spots, but I doubt if any of them were ever prettier than that. Father called it swale. We didn't sink deep, but all summer there was water standing there. The grass was long and very sweet. There were ferns and a few kalamaz flowers, and there must have been an acre of cowslips, cowslips with big veined, heart-shaped green leaves, and large pale gold flowers. I used to sit on the top rail of that orchard fence and look down at them, and try to figure out what God was thinking when he created them, and I wished that I might have been there where I could watch his face as he worked. End of chapter 3 part 1