The Story of Opal: The Journal of an Understanding Heart
by Opal Stanley Whiteley · English · Gutenberg #43818 · 424,700 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Story of Opal: The Journal of an Understanding Heart
Author: Opal Stanley Whiteley
Author of introduction, etc.: Ellery Sedgwick
Release date: September 26, 2013 [eBook #43818]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43818
Credits: Produced by Marie Bartolo from page images made available
by the Internet Archive: American Libraries
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF OPAL: THE JOURNAL OF AN UNDERSTANDING HEART ***
[Transcriber’s Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and
small-capital text by =equal signs=.]
The Story of Opal
The Journal of
An Understanding Heart
[Photograph: _Photograph by Bachrach_
OPAL WHITELEY RECONSTRUCTING HER DIARY]
The Story of Opal
The Journal of
An Understanding Heart
By Opal Whiteley
[Illustration: Publisher’s logo]
_With Illustrations_
The Atlantic Monthly Press
Boston
=Copyright, 1920, by The Atlantic Monthly Company=
=Copyright, 1920, by the Atlantic Monthly Press=
_All rights reserved_
PREFACE
I
For those whom Nature loves, the Story of Opal is an open book. They
need no introduction to the journal of this Understanding Heart. But
the world, which veils the spirit and callouses the instincts, makes
curiosity for most people the criterion of interest. They demand facts
and backgrounds, theories and explanations, and for them it seems
worth while to set forth something of the child’s story undisclosed
by the diary, and to attempt to weave together some impressions of
the author.
Last September, late one afternoon, Opal Whiteley came into the
_Atlantic_’s office, with a book which she had had printed in
Los Angeles. It was not a promising errand, though it had brought
her all the way from the Western coast, hoping to have published in
regular fashion this volume, half fact, half fancy, of _The Fairyland
Around Us_, the fairyland of beasts and blossoms, butterflies and
birds. The book was quaintly embellished with colored pictures,
pasted in by hand, and bore a hundred marks of special loving care.
Yet about it there seemed little at first sight to tempt a publisher.
Indeed, she had offered her wares in vain to more than one publishing
house; and as her dollars were growing very few, the disappointment
was severe. But about Opal Whiteley herself there was something to
attract the attention even of a man of business--something very
young and eager and fluttering, like a bird in a thicket.
The talk went as follows:--
“I am afraid we can’t do anything with the book. But you must have
had an interesting life. You have lived much in the woods?”
“Yes, in lots of lumber-camps.”
“How many?”
“Nineteen. At least, we moved nineteen times.”
It was hard not to be interested now. One close question followed
another regarding the surroundings of her girlhood. The answers
were so detailed, so sharply remembered, that the next question was
natural.
“If you remember like that, you must have kept a diary.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Yes, always. I do still.”
“Then it is not the book I want, but the diary.”
She caught her breath. “It’s destroyed. It’s all torn up.” Tears
were in her eyes.
“You loved it?”
“Yes; I told it everything.”
“Then you kept the pieces.”
The guess was easy (what child whose doll is rent asunder throws
away the sawdust?), but she looked amazed.
“Yes, I have kept everything. The pieces are all stored in
Los Angeles.”
We telegraphed for them, and they came, hundreds, thousands, one might
almost say millions of them. Some few were large as a half-sheet of
notepaper; more, scarce big enough to hold a letter of the alphabet.
The paper was of all shades, sorts, and sizes: butchers’ bags pressed
and sliced in two, wrapping-paper, the backs of envelopes--anything
and everything that could hold writing. The early years of the diary
are printed in letters so close that, when the sheets are fitted, not
another letter can be squeezed in. In later passages the characters
are written with childish clumsiness, and later still one sees the
gradually forming adult hand.
The labor of piecing the diary together may fairly be described
as enormous. For nine months almost continuously the diarist has
labored, piecing it together sheet by sheet, each page a kind of
picture-puzzle, lettered, for frugality (the store was precious),
on both sides of the paper.
The entire diary, of which this volume covers but the two opening
years, must comprise a total of a quarter of a million words. Upwards
of seventy thousand--all that is contained in this volume--can
be ascribed with more than reasonable definiteness to the end of
Opal’s sixth and to her seventh year. During all these months Opal
Whiteley has been a frequent visitor in the _Atlantic_’s office. With
friendliness came confidence, and little by little, very gradually,
an incident here, another there, her story came to be told. She
was at first eager only for the future and for the opportunity to
write and teach children of the world which she loved best. But as
the thread of the diary was unraveled, she felt a growing interest
in what her past had been, and in what lay behind her earliest
recollections and the opening chapters of her printed record.
Her methods were nothing if not methodical. First, the framework
of a sheet would be fitted and the outer edges squared. Here the
adornment of borders in childish patterns, and the fortunate fact
that the writer had employed a variety of colored crayons, using
each color until it was exhausted, lent an unhoped-for aid. Then,
odd sheets were fitted together; later, fragments of episodes.
Whenever one was completed, it was typed by an assistant on a card,
and in this way there came into being a card-system that would do
credit to a scientific museum of modest proportions. Finally the
cards were filed in sequence, the manuscript then typed off and
printed just as at first written, with no change whatever other than
omissions, the adoption of reasonable rules of capitalization (the
manuscript for many years has nothing but capitals), and the addition
of punctuation, of which the manuscript is entirely innocent. The
spelling--with the exception of occasional characteristic examples
of the diarist’s individual style--has, in the reader’s interest,
been widely amended.
II
Opal Whiteley--so her story runs--was born about twenty-two years
ago--where, we have no knowledge. Of her parents, whom she lost
before her fifth year, she is sure of nothing except that they loved
her, and that she loved them with a tenacity of affection as strong
now as at the time of parting. To recall what manner of people they
were, no physical proof remains except, perhaps, two precious little
copybooks, which held their photographs and wherein her mother and
father had set down things which they wished their little daughter
to learn, both of the world about her and of that older world of
legend and history, with which the diarist shows such capricious
and entertaining familiarity. These books, for reasons beyond her
knowledge, were taken away from Opal when she was about twelve years
of age, and have never been returned, although there is ground for
believing that they are still in existence.
Other curious clues to the identity of her father and mother come
from the child’s frequent use of French expressions, and sometimes
of longer passages in French, and from her ready use of scientific
terms. It is, perhaps, a fair inference that her father was a
naturalist by profession or native taste, and that either he or her
mother was French by birth or by education.
After her parents’ death, there is an interlude in Opal’s recollection
which she does not understand, remembering only that for a brief
season the sweet tradition of her mother’s care was carried on by
an older woman, possibly a governess, from whom, within a year,
she was taken and, after recovering from a serious illness, given
to the wife of an Oregon lumber-man, lately parted from her first
child,--Opal Whiteley,--whose place and name, for reasons quite
unknown, were given to the present Opal.
From some time in her sixth year to the present, her diary has
continued without serious interruption; and from the successive
chapters we shall see that her life, apart from the gay tranquillity
of her spirit, was not a happy one. Her friends were the animals and
everything that flies or swims; her single confidant was her diary,
to which she confided every trouble and every satisfaction.
When Opal was over twelve years old, a foster-sister, in a tragic
fit of childish temper, unearthed the hiding-place of the diary
and tore it into a myriad of fragments. The work of years seemed
destroyed, but Opal, who had treasured its understanding pages,
picked up the pitiful scraps and stored them in a secret box. There
they lay undisturbed for many years.
III
Such in briefest outline is the story Opal told; and month after
month, while chapters of the diary were appearing in the _Atlantic_,
snatches of the same history, together with descriptions of many
unrecorded episodes, came in the editor’s mail; and though the weaving
is of very different texture, the pattern is unmistakably the pattern
of the diary. Dates and names, peregrinations and marriages, births,
deaths, and adventures less solemn and less apt to be accurately
recollected, occurred just as the diary tells them. The existence
of the diary itself was well remembered, though for many years Opal
had never spoken of it; a friend recalled the calamitous day when
the abundant chronicle of six years was destroyed; and a cloud of
witnesses bore testimony to the multitudinous family of pets, and some
even to the multicolored names they bore. There were many letters
besides, which came not to the _Atlantic_ at all, but were part of
Opal’s own correspondence with people “of understanding,” members by
instinct of that free-masonry which, as she learned long ago, binds
folk of answering hearts and minds. Many of these letters (which rest
for safety in the _Atlantic_’s treasury) are messages of thanks for
copies of that first book of Opal’s--engaging letters, very personal
most of them, bearing signatures to delight the eyes of collectors of
autographs: M. Clemenceau, M. Poincaré, Lord Rayleigh, Lord Curzon,
members of the French cabinet, scientists, men of letters, men of
achievement. Opal has sought her friends all through the world; but
her lantern is bright and she has found them. Her old Oregon teachers
also have been quick to bear witness to her talents, and to recall
the formal lessons which often she would not remember, and the other
more necessary lessons which she could not forget. They would ask too
whence came the French which they had never taught her. An attempt
to answer that would take us far afield. All we need do here is to
recall that first time, when Opal, full of puzzlement over letters
that simply would not shape themselves into familiar phrases, turned
to her editors and was told that they were French.
“But they can’t be French! I never studied French.”
But French they are, nevertheless.
IV
If the story of Opal were written by another hand than her own,
the central theme of it would be faith. No matter how doubtful the
enterprise, the issue she always holds as certain, simply because the
world is good and God loves his children. Loving herself all created
things, from her barrel-full of caterpillars, whose evolution she
would note and chronicle from day to day, to the dogs and horses,
squirrels, raccoons, and bats which peopled the world she lived
in, she would thank God daily for them, and very early in her life
determined to devote the rest of it to spreading knowledge of them
and of their kind far and wide among little children.
To accomplish this, needed education, and an education she would
have. Those about her showed no interest; but by picking berries,
washing, and work of all rough sorts, Opal paid for the books which
the high school required. But she must do more than this. She
must go to college. To the State University she went, counting it
nothing that she should live in a room without furniture other than
a two-dollar cot, and two coats for blankets. Family conditions,
however, made college impossible for her. After the illness and death
of Mrs. Whiteley, Opal borrowed a little money from friends in Cottage
Grove, Oregon, and started alone for Los Angeles, determined to seek
her livelihood by giving nature lessons to classes of children.
The privations and disappointments of the next two years would make an
heroic tale; but she persevered, and her classes became successful.
The next step was her nature book, for which, by personal canvass
for subscriptions, she raised not less than the prodigious sum of
$9400. But the printers with a girl for a client, demanded more and
still more money, and when the final $600 necessary to make the booty
mount to $10,000 was not forthcoming, with a brutality that would
do credit to a Thénardier, first threatened, and then destroyed the
plates.
A struggle for mere existence followed, but gradually Opal triumphed,
when she was overtaken by a serious illness and taken to the hospital.
New and merciful friends, such as are always conjured up by such a
life as Opal’s, came to her assistance, and after her recovery she
soon started eastward, to find a publisher for her ill-fated volume.
The rest we know.
Yet, after all, our theme should not be Opal, but Opal’s book.
She is the child of curious and interesting circumstance, but of
circumstance her journal is altogether independent. The authorship
does not matter, nor the life from which it came. There the book
is. Nothing else is like it, nor apt to be. If there is alchemy in
Nature, it is in children’s hearts the unspoiled treasure lies, and
for that room of the treasure-house, the Story of Opal offers a tiny
golden key.
=Ellery Sedgwick.=
=The Atlantic Office=, _June_, 1920.
CONTENTS
=Characters in the Narrative= xxi
=Introduction by the Author= 1
=Chapter I=
How Opal Goes along the Road beyond the Singing Creek,
and of all she Sees in her New Home 5
=Chapter II=
How Lars Porsena of Clusium Got Opal into Trouble, and
how Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael and Sadie McKibben
Gave her Great Comfort 9
=Chapter III=
Of the Queer Feels that Came out of a Bottle of
Castoria, and of the Happiness of Larry and Jean 14
=Chapter IV=
How Peter Paul Rubens Goes to School 21
=Chapter V=
How Opal Comforted Aphrodite, and how the Fairies
Comforted Opal when there Was Much Sadness at School 25
=Chapter VI=
Opal Gives Wisdom to the Potatoes, Cleanliness to the
Family Clothes, and a Delicate Dinner to Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus 35
=Chapter VII=
The Adventure of the Tramper; and what Happens on Long
and on Short Days 47
=Chapter VIII=
How Opal Takes a Walk in the Forest of Chantilly; she
Visits Elsie and her Baby Boy, and Explains Many
Things to the Girl that Has no Seeing 55
=Chapter IX=
Of an Exploring Trip with Brave Horatius; and how Opal
Kept Sadness away from her Animal Friends 69
=Chapter X=
How Brave Horatius is Lost and Found again, but Peter
Paul Rubens is Lost Forever 75
=Chapter XI=
How Opal Took the Miller’s Brand out of the Flour-Sack,
and Got Many Sore Feels thereby; and how Sparks Come
on Cold Nights; and how William Shakespeare Has
Likings for Poems 81
=Chapter XII=
Of Elsie’s Brand-New Baby, and all the Things that Go
with it; and the Goodly Wisdom of the Angels, who
Bring Folks Babies that Are like them 91
=Chapter XIII=
How Felix Mendelssohn and Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil Go
for a Ride; William Shakespeare Suffers One Whipping
and Opal Another 100
=Chapter XIV=
How Opal Feels Satisfaction Feels, and Takes a Ride on
William Shakespeare; and all that Came of it 104
=Chapter XV=
Of Jenny Strong’s Visit, its Gladness and its Sadness 114
=Chapter XVI=
Of the Woods on a Lonesome Day, and the Friendliness of
the Wood-Folks on December Days when you Put your Ears
Close and Listen 122
=Chapter XVII=
Of Works to be Done; and how it Was that a Glad Light
Came into the Eyes of the Man who Wears Gray Neckties
and Is Kind to Mice 127
=Chapter XVIII=
How Opal Pays One Visit to Elsie and Another to Dear
Love, and Learns how to Mend her Clothes in a
Quick Way 131
=Chapter XIX=
Of the Camp by the Mill by the Far Woods; of the
Spanking that Came from the New Way of Mending
Clothes; and of the Long Sleep of William Shakespeare 138
=Chapter XX=
Of the Little Song-Notes that Dance about Babies; and of
the Solemn Christening of Solomon Grundy 146
=Chapter XXI=
How Opal Names Names of the Lambs of Aidan of Iona, and
Seeks for the Soul of Peter Paul Rubens 158
=Chapter XXII=
How Solomon Grundy Falls Sick and Grows Well again; and
Minerva’s Chickens are Christened; and the Pensée
Girl, with the Far-Away Look in her Eyes, Finds
Thirty-and-Three Bunches of Flowers 165
=Chapter XXIII=
How Opal and Brave Horatius Go on Explores and Visit the
Hospital.--How the Mamma Dyes Clothes and Opal Dyes
Clementine 177
=Chapter XXIV=
How the Mamma’s Wish Came True, and how Opal was Spanked
for it; and of the Likes which Aphrodite Had for a
Clean Place to Live in 185
=Chapter XXV=
Of Many Washings and a Walk 193
=Chapter XXVI=
Why it Was that the Girl who Has no Seeing Was not at
Home when Opal Called 197
=Chapter XXVII=
Of a Cathedral Service in the Pig-Pen.--How the World
Looks from a Man’s Shoulder 204
=Chapter XXVIII=
How Opal Piped with Reeds, and what a Good Time Dear
Love Gave Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus 212
=Chapter XXIX=
How Opal Feels the Heat of the Sun, and Decorates
a Goodly Number of the White Poker-Chips of the
Chore Boy 218
=Chapter XXX=
How Opal and the Little Birds from the Great Tree Have
a Happy Time at the House of Dear Love 226
=Chapter XXXI=
How Lola Wears her White Silk Dress at Last 231
=Chapter XXXII=
Of the Ways that Fairies Write, and the Proper Way to
Drink in the Song of the Wood 234
=Chapter XXXIII=
Of the Death of Lars Porsena of Clusium, and of the
Comfort that Sadie McKibben can Give 242
=Chapter XXXIV=
Of the Fall of the Great Tree, and the Funeral of
Aristotle 249
=Chapter XXXV=
How the Man of the Long Step that Whistles Most of the
Time Takes an Interesting Walk 253
=Chapter XXXVI=
Of Taking-Egg Day, and the Remarkable Things that Befell
thereon 259
=Chapter XXXVII=
Of the Strange Adventure in the Woods on the Going-Away
Day of Saint Louis 270
=Chapter XXXVIII=
How Opal Makes Prepares to Move. How she Collects all
the Necessary Things, Bids Good-bye to Dear Love, and
Learns that her Prayer has been Answered 275
=Postscript= 284
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
=Opal Whiteley Reconstructing her Diary= _Frontispiece_
=The Author and the Fragments of Her Diary= 1
=A Specimen Page of Opal’s Diary Written on a Paper Bag= 13
=Lumber-Camp Folk= 33
=At the Pasture-Bars= 78
=“After we were across the rivière we went in a more
slow way”= 108
=“I wonder why it is the lumber-camp folk do cut off their
overalls where they do meet the boots”= 140
=A Path to “Explores” in the Far Woods= 187
CHARACTERS IN THE NARRATIVE
=Agamemnon Menelaus Dindon=, a pet turkey.
=Adamnan of Iona=, a sheep.
=Alan of Bretagne=, a fir tree.
=Aidan of Iona= come from Lindisfarne, the shepherd.
=Albéric de Briançon=, a sheep.
=Alcuin=, a sheep.
=Alfric of Canterbury=, a sheep.
=Anacreon Herodotus=, a lamb a little more little than the other
little lamb.
=Andromeda=, sister hen of Clementine.
=Anthonya Mundy=, Solomon Grundy’s little pig sister that has not
got as much curl in her tail as has Solomon Grundy.
=Aphrodite=, the mother-pig.
=Aristotle=, a pet bat who died of eating too many mosquitoes.
=Bébé Blanche= }
=Bébé William= } two little trees by Edward III.
=Bede of Jarrow=, a sheep.
=Ben Jonson=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Brave Horatius=, the shepherd dog.
=Byron=, a fir tree in the lane.
=Cassiopée=, a neighbor’s pig.
=Cardinal Richelieu=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Charlemagne=, the most tall tree of all the trees growing in
the lane.
=Clementine=, a Plymouth Rock hen.
=Cynewulf=, a sheep.
=Dallan Forgaill=, a sheep.
=Dear Love and her Young Husband=, neighbors and dear friends.
=Edmund Spenser=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Edward III=, a fir tree near the singing creek where the
willows grow.
=Edward, Prince of Wales=, a younger tree growing near unto
Edward III.
=Edwin of Diera=, a sheep.
=Elidor=, a sheep.
=Elizabeth Barrett Browning=, a pet cow with poetry in her tracks.
=Elsie and her Young Husband=, neighbors and interesting friends.
=Epicurus Pythagoras=, a lamb.
=Étienne of Blois=, a fir tree in the woods.
=Felix Mendelssohn=, a very dear pet mouse.
=Felix of Croyland=, a sheep.
=Francis Beaumont=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Geoffroi Chaucer=, a little squirrel that was hurt by the
black cat.
=Godefroi of Bouillon=, a fir tree in the woods.
=Good King Edward I=, a fir tree growing in the lane.
=Grandpère=, Mrs. Whiteley’s father.
=Guy de Cavaillon=, a sheep.
=Gwian=, a sheep.
=Homer Archimedes Chilon=, a little lamb more big than all the
other lambs.
=Hugh Capet=, a fir tree growing in the lane.
=Isaiah=, a plain dog.
=Jean de la Fontaine=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Jean Molière=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Jean Racine=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Jenny Strong=, a visitor with an interesting bonnet.
=John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster=, a tree growing near unto
Edward III.
=John Fletcher=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Keats=, an oak tree in the lane.
=Lars Porsena of Clusium=, a pet crow with a fondness for collecting
things.
=Lionel, Duke of Clarence=, a tree growing near unto Edward III.
=Lola=, a little girl in school, who had wants for a white silk
dress.
=Louis II, le Grand Condé=, a wood-mouse with likes to ride in the
sleeve of my red dress.
=Louis VI=, a grand fir tree in the woods.
=Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil=, a toad.
“=Mamma, The=,” Mrs. Whiteley.
=Marcus Aurelius=, a lamb.
=Mathilde Plantagenet=, the baby calf of the gentle Jersey cow,
that came on the night of the coming of Elsie’s baby.
=Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides=, a most dear lamb that
had needs to be mothered.
=Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael=, a grand fir tree with an
understanding soul.
=Nannerl Mozart=, a very shy mouse.
=Napoleon=, the Rhode Island Red rooster.
=Nicholas Boileau=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Oliver Goldsmith=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Orderic=, a sheep.
“=Papa, The=,” Mr. Whiteley.
=Peace=, a mother hen that has got all her children grown up.
=Periander Pindar=, a lamb.
=Peter Paul Rubens=, a very dear pet pig.
=Pius VII=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Plato= }
=Pliny= } twin bats.
=Plutarch Demosthenes=, a lamb.
=Queen Eleanor of Castile=, a fir tree in the lane growing by
Edward I.
=Queen Philippa of Hainault=, a fir tree growing by Edward III.
=Raoul de Houdenc=, a sheep.
=Raymond of Toulouse=, a fir tree in the woods.
=Sadie McKibben=, a comforter in time of trouble.
=Saint Louis=, a fir tree growing in the lane.
=Samuel Taylor Coleridge=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Savonarola=, a sorrel horse.
=Shelley=, a fir tree growing in the lane.
=Sir Francis Bacon=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Sir Philip Sidney=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Sir Walter Raleigh=, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
=Solomon Grundy=, a very dear baby pig.
=Solon Thales=, a lamb.
=Sophocles Diogenes=, a lamb with a short tail and a question-look
in his eyes.
=Theodore Roosevelt=, a fir tree in the lane.
=Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus=, a most dear velvety wood-rat.
=Tibullus Theognis=, a fuzzy lamb with very long legs.
=William Makepeace Thackeray=, a little bird that was hurt.
=William Shakespeare=, an old gray horse with an understanding soul.
=William Wordsworth=, an oak tree in the lane.
The Story of Opal
The Journal of
An Understanding Heart
[Photograph: _Photograph by Bachrach_
THE AUTHOR AND THE FRAGMENTS OF HER DIARY]
THE STORY OF OPAL
INTRODUCTION BY THE AUTHOR
Of the days before I was taken to the lumber camps there is little I
remember. As piece by piece the journal comes together, some things
come back. There are references here and there in the journal to
things I saw or heard or learned in those days before I came to the
lumber camps.
There were walks in the fields and woods. When on these walks, Mother
would tell me to listen to what the flowers and trees and birds were
saying. We listened together. And on the way she told me poems and
other lovely things, some of which she wrote in the two books and
also in others which I had not with me in the lumber camps. On the
walks, and after we came back, she had me to print what I had seen
and what I had heard. After that she told me of different people and
their wonderful work on earth. Then she would have me tell again to
her what she had told me. After I came to the lumber camp, I told
these things to the trees and the brooks and the flowers.
There were five words my mother said to me over and over again, as
she had me to print what I had seen and what I had heard. These words
were: What, Where, When, How, Why. They had a very great influence
over all my observations and the recording of those observations
during all the days of my childhood. And my Mother having put such
strong emphasis on these five words accounts for much of the detailed
descriptions that are throughout my diary.
No children I knew. There were only Mother and the kind woman who
taught me and looked after me and dressed me, and the young girl
who fed me. And there was Father in those few days when he was home
from the far lands. Those were wonderful days--his home-coming days.
Then he would take me on his knee and ride me on his shoulder and
tell me of the animals and birds of the far lands. And we went for
many walks, and he would talk to me about the things along the way.
It was then he taught me _comparer_.
There was one day when I went with Mother in a boat. It was a little
way on the sea. It was a happy day. Then something happened and we
were all in the water. Afterward, when I called for Mother, they said
the sea waves had taken her and she was gone to heaven. I remember
the day because I never saw my Mother again.
The time was not long after that day with Mother in the boat, when
one day the kind woman who taught me and took care of me did tell
me gently that Father too had gone to heaven while he was away in
the far lands. She said she was going to take me to my grandmother
and grandfather, the mother and father of my Father.
We started. But I never got to see my dear grandmother and
grandfather, whom I had never seen. Something happened on the way
and I was all alone. And I did n’t feel happy. There were strange
people that I had never seen before, and I was afraid of them. They
made me to keep very still, and we went for no walks in the field.
But we traveled a long, long way.
Then it was they put me with Mrs. Whiteley. The day they put me with
her was a rainy day, and I thought she was a little afraid of them
too. She took me on the train and in a stage-coach to the lumber
camp. She called me Opal Whiteley, the same name as that of another
little girl who was the same size as I was when her mother lost her.
She took me into the camp as her own child, and so called me as we
lived in the different lumber camps and in the mill town.
With me I took into camp a small box. In a slide drawer in the bottom
of this box were two books which my own Mother and Father, the Angel
Father and Mother I always speak of in my diary, had written in. I
do not think the people who put me with Mrs. Whiteley knew about the
books in the lower part of the box, for they took everything out
of the top part of the box and tossed it aside. I picked it up and
kept it with me, and, being as I was more quiet with it in my arms,
they allowed me to keep it, thinking it was empty. These books I
kept always with me, until one day I shall always remember, when I
was about twelve years old, they were taken from the box I kept then
hid in the woods. Day by day I spelled over and over the many words
that were written in them. From them I selected names for my pets.
And it was the many little things recorded there that helped me to
remember what my Mother and Father had already told me of different
great lives and their work; and these books with these records made
me very eager to be learning more and more of what was recorded in
them. These two books I studied much more than I did my books at
school. Their influence upon my life has been great.
CHAPTER I
_How Opal Goes along the Road beyond the Singing Creek, and of all
she Sees in her New Home._
To-day the folks are gone away from the house we do live in. They
are gone a little way away, to the ranch-house where the grandpa
does live. I sit on our steps and I do print. I like it--this house
we do live in being at the edge of the near woods. So many little
people do live in the near woods. I do have conversations with them.
I found the near woods first day I did go explores. That was the
next day after we were come here. All the way from the other logging
camp in the beautiful mountains we came in a wagon. Two horses were
in front of us. They walked in front of us all the way. When first
we were come, we did live with some other people in the ranch-house
that was n’t all builded yet. After that we lived in a tent, and
often when it did rain many raindrops came right through the tent.
They did fall in patters on the stove and on the floor and on the
table. Too, they did make the quilts on the beds some damp--but that
did n’t matter much because they soon got dried hanging around the
stove.
By and by we were come from the tent to this lumber shanty. It has
got a divide in it. One room we do have sleeps in. In the other room
we do have breakfast and supper. Back of the house are some nice
wood-rats. The most lovely of them all is Thomas Chatterton Jupiter
Zeus. By the wood-shed is a brook. It goes singing on. Its joy song
does sing in my heart. Under the house live some mice. I give them
bread-scraps to eat. Under the steps lives a toad. He and I--we are
friends. I have named him. I call him Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil.
Between the ranch-house and the house we live in is the singing
creek where the willows grow. We have conversations. And there I
do dabble my toes beside the willows. I feel the feels of gladness
they do feel. And often it is I go from the willows to the meeting
of the road. That is just in front of the ranch-house. There the
road does have divides. It goes three ways. One way the road does
go to the house of Sadie McKibben. It does n’t stop when it gets to
her house, but mostly I do. The road just goes on to the mill town
a little way away. In its going it goes over a hill. Sometimes--the
times Sadie McKibben is n’t at home--I do go with Brave Horatius to
the top of the hill. We look looks down upon the mill town. Then
we do face about and come again home. Always we make stops at the
house of Sadie McKibben. Her house--it is close to the mill by the
far woods. That mill makes a lot of noise. It can do two things at
once. It makes the noises and also it does saw the logs into boards.
About the mill do live some people, mostly men-folks. There does
live the good man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice.
Another way, the road does go the way I go when I go to the
school-house where I go to school. When it is come there, it does
go right on--on to the house of the girl who has no seeing. When
it gets to her house, it does make a bend, and it does go its way
to the blue hills. As it goes, its way is near unto the way of the
_rivière_ that sings as it comes from the blue hills. There are
singing brooks that come going to the rivière. These brooks--they
and I--we are friends. I call them Orne and Loing and Yonne and
Rille and Essonne.
Near unto the road, long ways between the brooks, are ranch-houses.
I have not knowing of the people that do dwell in them. But I do
know some of their cows and horses and pigs. They are friendly
folk. Around the ranch-houses are fields. Woods used to grow where
now grows grain. When the mowers cut down the grain, they also do
cut down the cornflowers that grow in the fields. I follow along
after and I do pick them up. Of some of them I make a _guirlande_.
When the guirlande is made, I do put it around the neck of William
Shakespeare. He does have appreciations. As we go walking down the
lane, I do talk with him about the one he is named for. And he does
have understanding. He is such a beautiful gray horse, and his ways
are ways of gentleness. Too, he does have likings like the likings I
have for the hills that are beyond the fields--for the hills where
are trails and tall fir trees like the wonderful ones that do grow
by the road.
So go two of the roads. The other road does lead to the upper logging
camps. It goes only a little way from the ranch-house and it comes to
a rivière. Long time ago, this road did have a longing to go across
the rivière. Some wise people did have understandings and they did
build it a bridge to go across on. It went across the bridge and it
goes on and on between the hills--the hills where dwell the talking
fir trees. By its side goes the railroad track. Its appears are
not so nice as are the appears of the road, and it has got only a
squeaky voice. But this railroad track does have shining rails--they
stretch away and away, like a silver ribbon that came from the moon
in the night. I go a-walking on these rails. I get off when I do
hear the approaches of the dinky engine. On this track on every day,
excepting Sunday, comes and goes the logging train. It goes to the
camps and it does bring back cars of logs and cars of lumber. These
it does take to the mill town. There engines more big do take the
cars of lumber to towns more big.
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus has been waiting in my sunbonnet a
long time. He wants to go on explores. Too, Brave Horatius and Isaiah
are having longings in their eyes. And I hear Peter Paul Rubens
squealing in the pig-pen. Now I go. We go on explores.
CHAPTER II
_How Lars Porsena of Clusium Got Opal into Trouble, and how Michael
Angelo Sanzio Raphael and Sadie McKibben Gave her Great Comfort._
To-day was a warm, hot day. It was warm in the morning and hot at
noon. Before noon and after noon and after that, I carried water
to the hired men in the field in a jug. I got the water out of the
pump to put into the jug. I had to put water in the pump before any
would come out. The men were glad to have that water in the jug.
While I was taking the water in the jug to the men in the field, from
her sewing-basket Lars Porsena of Clusium took the mamma’s thimble,
and she did n’t have it and she could n’t find it. She sent me to
watch out for it in the house and in the yard and everywhere. I know
how Lars Porsena of Clusium has a fondness for collecting things of
bright colors, like unto my fondness for collecting rocks; so I ran
to his hiding-place in the old oak tree. There I found the mamma’s
thimble; but she said the pet crow’s having taken it was as though I
had taken it, because he was my property; so I got a spanking with
the hazel switches that grow near unto our back steps. Inside me I
could n’t help feeling she ought to have given me thanks for finding
the thimble.
Afterwards I made little vases out of clay. I put them in the oven
to bake. The mamma found my vases of clay. She threw them out the
window. When I went to pick them up, they were broken. I felt sad
inside. I went to talk things over with my chum, Michael Angelo
Sanzio Raphael. He is that most tall fir tree that grows just back
of the barn. I scooted up the barn door. From there I climbed onto
the lower part of the barn roof. I walked up a ways. Up there I took
a long look at the world about. One gets such a good wide view of
the world from a barn roof. After, I looked looks in four straight
ways and four corner ways. I said a little prayer. I always say a
little prayer before I jump off the barn into the arms of Michael
Angelo Sanzio Raphael, because that jump is quite a long jump, and
if I did not land in the arms of Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael, I
might get my leg or neck broken. That would mean I’d have to keep
still a long time. Now I think that would be the most awful thing
that could happen, for I do so love to be active. So I always say
a little prayer and do that jump in a careful way. To-day, when I
did jump, I did land right proper in that fir tree. It is such a
comfort to nestle up to Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael when one is
in trouble. He is such a grand tree. He has an understanding soul.
After I talked with him and listened unto his voice, I slipped down
out of his arms. I intended to slip into the barn corral, but I
slid off the wrong limb in the wrong way. I landed in the pig-pen
on top of Aphrodite, the mother-pig. She gave a peculiar grunt. It
was not like those grunts she gives when she is comfortable.
I felt I ought to do something to make up to her for having come into
her home out of the arms of Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael instead of
calling on her in the proper way. I decided a good way to make it up
to her would be to pull down the rail fence in that place where the
pig-pen is weak, and take her for a walk. I went to the wood-shed.
I got a piece of clothes-line rope. While I was making a halter for
the mother-pig, I took my Sunday-best hair-ribbon--the blue ribbon
the Uncle Henry gave to me. I made a bow on that halter. I put the
bow just over her ears. That gave her the proper look. When the
mamma saw us go walking by, she took the bow from off the pig. She
put that bow in the trunk; me she put under the bed.
By-and-by--some time long it was--she took me from under the bed and
gave me a spanking. She did not have time to give me a spanking when
she put me under the bed. She left me there until she did have time.
After she did it she sent me to the ranch-house to get milk for the
baby. I walked slow through the oak grove, looking for caterpillars.
I found nine. Then I went to the pig-pen. The chore boy was fixing
back the rails I had pulled down. His temper was quite warm. He was
saying prayer words in a very quick way. I went not near unto him.
I slipped around near Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael. I peeked in
between the fence-rails. Aphrodite was again in the pig-pen. She was
snoozing, so I tiptoed over to the rain-barrel by the barn. I raised
mosquitoes in the rain-barrel for my pet bats. Aristotle eats more
mosquitoes than Plato and Pliny eat.
On my way to the house I met Clementine, the Plymouth Rock hen, with
her family. She only has twelve baby chickens now. The grandpa say
the other one she did have died of new monia because I gave it too
many baths for its health. When I came to the house one of the cats, a
black one, was sitting on the doorstep. I have not friendly feelings
for that big black cat. Day before the day that was yesterday I saw
him kill the mother hummingbird. He knocked her with his paw when
she came to the nasturtiums. I did n’t even speak to him.
Just as I was going to knock on the back door for the milk, I heard
a voice on the front porch. It was the voice of a person who has an
understanding soul. I hurried around to the front porch. There was
Sadie McKibben with a basket on her arm. She beamed a smile at me. I
went over and nestled up against her blue gingham apron with cross
stitches on it. The freckles on Sadie McKibben’s wrinkled face are as
many as are the stars in the Milky Way, and she is awful old--going
on forty. Her hands are all brown and cracked like the dried-up
mud-puddles by the roadside in July, and she has an understanding
soul. She always has bandages ready in her pantry when some of my
pets get hurt. There are cookies in her cookie-jar when I don’t get
home for meals, and she allows me to stake out earthworm claims in
her back yard.
[Photograph: A SPECIMEN PAGE OF OPAL’S DIARY WRITTEN ON A PAPER
BAG]
She walked along beside me when I took the milk home. When she came
near the lane, she took from her basket wrapping-papers and gave
them to me to print upon. Then she kissed me good-bye upon the cheek
and went her way to her home. I went my way to the house we live in.
After the mamma had switched me for not getting back sooner with the
milk, she told me to fix the milk for the baby. The baby’s bottle
used to be a brandy bottle, but it evoluted into a milk bottle when
they put a nipple onto it.
I sit here on the doorstep printing this on the wrapping-paper Sadie
McKibben gave me. The baby is in bed asleep. The mamma and the rest
of the folks is gone to the ranch-house. When they went away, she
said for me to stay in the doorway to see that nothing comes to
carry the baby away. By the step is Brave Horatius. At my feet is
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. I hear songs--lullaby songs of the
trees. The back part of me feels a little bit sore, but I am happy
listening to the twilight music of God’s good world. I’m real glad
I’m alive.
CHAPTER III
_Of the Queer Feels that Came out of a Bottle of Castoria, and of
the Happiness of Larry and Jean._
The colic had the baby to-day, and there was no Castoria for the
pains; there was none because yesterday Pearl[1] and I climbed upon
a chair and then upon the dresser and drank up the new bottle of
Castoria; but the bottle had an ache in it and we swallowed the ache
with the Castoria. That gave us queer feels. Pearl lay down on the
bed. I did rub her head. But she said it was n’t her head--it was
her back that hurt. Then she said it was her leg that ached. The
mamma came in the house then, and she did take Pearl in a quick way
to the ranch-house.
[1] A foster-sister.
It was a good time for me to go away exploring, but I did n’t feel
like going on an exploration trip. I just sat on the doorstep. I did
sit there and hold my chin in my hand. I did have no longings to
print. I only did have longings not to have those queer feels. Brave
Horatius came walking by. He did make a stop at the doorstep. He
wagged his tail. That meant he wanted to go on an exploration trip.
Lars Porsena of Clusium came from the oak tree. He did perch on the
back of Brave Horatius. He gave two caws. That meant he wanted to
go on an exploration trip. Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus came from
under the house. He just crawled into my lap. I gave him pats and
he cuddled his nose up under my curls. Peter Paul Rubens did squeal
out in the pig-pen. He squealed the squeals he does squeal when he
wants to go on an exploration trip.
Brave Horatius did wait and wait, but still those queer feels would
n’t go away. Pretty soon I got awful sick. By-and-by I did have
better feels. And to-day my feels are all right and the mamma is gone
a-visiting and I am going on an exploration trip. Brave Horatius
and Lars Porsena of Clusium and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus and
Peter Paul Rubens are waiting while I do print this. And now we are
going the way that does lead to the blue hills.
* * * * *
Sometimes I share my bread and jam with Yellowjackets, who have a
home on the bush by the road, twenty trees and one distant from the
garden. To-day I climbed upon the old rail fence close to their home
with a piece and a half of bread and jam and the half piece for them
and the piece for myself. But they all wanted to be served at once, so
it became necessary to turn over all bread and jam on hand. I broke
it into little pieces, and they had a royal feast there on the old
fence-rail. I wanted my bread and jam; but then Yellowjackets are
such interesting fairies, being among the world’s first paper-makers;
and baby Yellowjackets are such chubby youngsters. Thinking of these
things makes it a joy to share one’s bread and jam with these wasp
fairies.
When I was coming back from feeding them I heard a loud noise. That
Rob Ryder was out there by the chute, shouting at God in a very quick
way. He was begging God to dam that chute right there in our back
yard. Why, if God answered his prayer, we would be in an awful fix.
The house we live in would be under water, if God dammed the chute.
Now I think anger had Rob Ryder or he would not pray kind God to be
so unkind.
When I came again to the house we live in, the mamma was cutting out
biscuits with the baking-powder can. She put the pan of biscuits on
the wood-box back of the stove. She put a most clean dish-towel over
the biscuits, then she went to gather in clothes. I got a thimble
from the machine drawer. I cut little round biscuits from the big
biscuits. The mamma found me. She put the thimble back in the machine
drawer. She put me under the bed. Here under the bed I now print.
By-and-by, after a long time, the mamma called me to come out from
under the bed. She told me to put on my coat and her big fascinator
on my head. She fastened my coat with safety-pins, then she gave me
a lard-pail with its lid on tight. She told me to go straight to the
grandpa’s house for the milk, and to come straight home again. I
started to go straight for the milk. When I came near the hospital,
I went over to it to get the pet mouse, Felix Mendelssohn. I thought
that a walk in the fresh air would be good for his health. I took
one of the safety-pins out of my coat. I pinned up a corner of
the fascinator. That made a warm place next to my curls for Felix
Mendelssohn to ride in. I call this mouse Felix Mendelssohn because
sometimes he makes very sweet music.
Then I crossed to the cornfield. A cornfield is a very nice place,
and some days we children make hair for our clothes-pin dolls from
the silken tassels of the corn that grow in the grandpa’s cornfield.
Sometimes, which is quite often, we break the cornstalks in getting
the silk tassels. That makes bumps on the grandpa’s temper.
To-night I walked zigzag across the field to look for things. Into
my apron pocket I put bits of little rocks. By a fallen cornstalk I
met two of my mouse friends. I gave them nibbles of food from the
other apron pocket. I went on and saw a fat old toad by a clod. Mice
and toads do have such beautiful eyes. I saw two caterpillars on an
ear of corn after I turned the tassels back. All along the way I
kept hearing voices. Little leaves were whispering, “Come, petite
Françoise,” over in the lane. I saw another mouse with beautiful
eyes. Then I saw a man and woman coming across the field. The man
was carrying a baby.
Soon I met them. It was Larry and Jean and their little baby. They
let me pat the baby’s hand and smooth back its hair, for I do so
love babies. When I grow up I want twins and eight more children,
and I want to write outdoor books for children everywhere.
To-night, after Larry and Jean started on, I turned again to wave
good-bye. I remembered the first time I saw Larry and Jean, and the
bit of poetry he said to her. They were standing by an old stump in
the lane where the leaves whispered. Jean was crying. He patted her
on the shoulder and said:--
“There, little girl, don’t cry,
I’ll come back and marry you by-and-by.”
And he did. And the angels looking down from heaven saw their
happiness and brought a baby real soon, when they had been married
most five months; which was very nice, for a baby is such a comfort
and twins are a multiplication table of blessings. And Felix
Mendelssohn is yet so little a person, and the baby of Larry and
Jean is growed more big. On the day I did hear him say to her that
poetry--it was then I did find Felix Mendelssohn there in the lane
near to them. He was only a wee little mouse then. And every week
that he did grow a more week old, I just put one more gray stone in
the row of his growing. And there was nineteen more gray stones in
the row when the Angels did bring the dear baby to Larry and Jean
than there was stones in the row when they was married. And now there
are a goodly number more stones in the row of Felix Mendelssohn’s
weeks of growing old. I have feels that there will be friendship
between the dear mouse Felix Mendelssohn and the dear baby of Larry
and Jean. For by the stump where he did say that poetry to her was
the abiding place of Felix Mendelssohn when I did have finding of
him. This eventime he did snuggle more close by my curls. I have so
much likes for him. I did tell him that this night-time he is to
have sleeps close by. When we were gone a little way, I did turn
again to wave good-bye to the baby of Larry and Jean.
After I waved good-bye to the dear baby, I thought I’d go around by
the lane where I first saw them and heard him say to her that poetry.
It is such a lovely lane. I call it our lane. Of course, it does
n’t belong to Brave Horatius and Lars Porsena of Clusium and Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus and I and all the rest of us. It belongs to
a big man that lives in a big house, but it is our lane more than
it is his lane, because he does n’t know the grass and flowers that
grow there, and the birds that nest there, and the lizards that run
along the fence, and the caterpillars and beetles that go walking
along the roads made by the wagon wheels. And he does n’t stop to
talk to the trees that grow all along the lane.
All those trees are my friends. I call them by names I have given to
them. I call them Hugh Capet and Saint Louis and Good King Edward I;
and the tallest one of all is Charlemagne, and the one around where
the little flowers talk most is William Wordsworth, and there are
Byron and Keats and Shelley. When I go straight for the milk, I do
so like to come around this way by the lane and talk to these tree
friends. I stopped to-night to give to each a word of greeting. When
I got to the end of the lane, I climbed the gate and thought I had
better hurry straight on to get the milk.
When I went by the barn, I saw a mouse run around the corner and a
graceful bat came near unto the barn-door. I got the milk. It was near
dark time, so I came again home by the lane and along the corduroy
road. When I got most home, I happened to remember the mamma wanted
the milk in a hurry, so I began to hurry.
I don’t think I’ll print more to-night. I printed this sitting on
the wood-box, where the mamma put me after she spanked me after
I got home with the milk. Now I think I shall go out the bedroom
window and talk to the stars. They always smile so friendly. This
is a very wonderful world to live in.
CHAPTER IV
_How Peter Paul Rubens Goes to School._
In the morning of to-day, when I was come part way to school, when I
was come to the ending of the lane, I met a glad surprise. There was
my dear pet pig awaiting for me. I gave him three joy pats on the
nose, and I did call him by name ten times. I was so glad to see him.
Being as I got a late start to school, I did n’t have enough time
to go around by the pig-pen for our morning talk. And there he was
awaiting for me, at the ending of the lane. And his name it is Peter
Paul Rubens. His name is that because the first day I saw him was
on the twenty-ninth of June. He was little then--a very plump young
pig with a little red ribbon squeal and a wanting to go everywhere
I did go. Sometimes he would squeal and I would n’t go to find out
what he wanted. Then one day, when his nose was sore, he did give
such an odd pain squeal. Of course I run a quick run to help him.
After that, when he had a chance he would come to the kitchen door
and give that same squeal. That Peter Paul Rubens seemed to know
that was the only one of all his squeals that would bring me at once
to where he was.
And this morning, when I did start on to school, he gave that same
squeal and came a-following after. When he was caught up with me he
gave a grunt, and then he gave his little red ribbon squeal. A lump
came up in my throat and I could n’t tell him to turn around and go
back to the pig-pen. So we just went along to school together.
When we got there school was already took up. I went in first. The
new teacher came back to tell me I was tardy again. She did look out
the door. She saw my dear Peter Paul Rubens. She did ask me where
that pig came from. I just started in to tell her all about him,
from the day I first met him. She did look long looks at me. She did
look those looks for a long time. I made pleats in my apron with my
fingers. I made nine on one side and three on the other side. When
I was through counting the pleats I did make in my apron, I did ask
her what she was looking those long looks at me for. She said, “I’m
screwtineyesing you.” I never did hear that word before. It is a
new word. It does have an interest sound. I think I will have uses
for it. Now when I look long looks at a thing I will print I did
screwtineyes it.
After she did look more long looks at me, she went back to her desk
by the blackboard. She did call the sixth grade fiziologie class.
I went to my seat. I only sat half way in it. I so did so I would
have seeing of my dear Peter Paul Rubens. He did wait at the steps.
He looked long looks toward the door. It was n’t long until he
walked right in. I felt such an amount of satisfaction having him
at school. Teacher felt not so. Now I have wonders about things. I
wonder why was it teacher did n’t want Peter Paul Rubens coming to
school. Why, he did make such a sweet picture as he did stand there
in the doorway looking looks about. And the grunts he gave, they
were such nice ones. He stood there saying: “I have come to your
school. What class are you going to put me in?” He said in plain
grunts the very same words I did say the first day I came to school.
The children all turned around in their seats. I’m sure they were
glad he was come to school--and him talking there in that dear way.
But I guess our teacher does n’t have understanding of pig-talk.
She just came at him in such a hurry with a stick of wood. And when
I made interferes, she did send us both home in a quick way.
We did have a most happy time coming home. We did go on an exploration
trip. Before we were gone far, we did have hungry feels. I took
the lid off the lard-bucket that my school lunch was in. I did
make divides of all my bread and butter. Part I gave to Peter Paul
Rubens and he did have appreciations. He did grunt grunts for some
more. Pretty soon it was all gone. We did go on. We went on to the
woods. I did dig up little plants with leaves that do stay green all
winter. We saw many beautiful things. Most everything we did see
I did explain about it to Peter Paul Rubens. I told him why--all
about why I was digging up so many of the little plants. I did want
him to have understanding that I was going to plant them again. When
I did have almost forty-five, and it was come near eventime, Brave
Horatius and Lars Porsena of Clusium did come to meet us. When I did
have forty-five plants, we all did go in the way that does lead to
the cathedral, for this is the borning day of Girolamo Savonarola.
And in the cathedral I did plant little plants as many years as he
was old. Forty-five I did so plant. And we had prayers and came home.
CHAPTER V
_How Opal Comforted Aphrodite, and how the Fairies Comforted Opal
when there Was Much Sadness at School._
Aphrodite has got a nice blue ribbon all her very own, to wear when
we go walking down the lane and to services in the cathedral. The
man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice did give to Sadie
McKibben the money to buy it last time she went to the mill town.
That was on the afternoon of the day before yesterday. On yesterday,
when I was coming my way home from school, I did meet with Sadie
McKibben. It was nice to see her freckles and the smiles in her eyes.
She did have me to shut my eyes, and she did lay in my hand the new
blue ribbon for Aphrodite that the man that wears gray neckties and
is kind to mice did have her to get. I felt glad feels all over. I
gave her all our thanks. I did have knowing all my animal friends
would be glad for the remembers of the needs of Aphrodite, for a
blue ribbon.
I did have beginnings of hurry feels to go to the pig-pen. I have
thinks Sadie McKibben saw the hurrys in my eyes. She said she would
like to go hurrys to the pig-pen too, but she was on her way to the
house of Mrs. Limberger. She did kiss me good-bye--two on the cheeks
and one on the nose. I run a quick run to the pig-pen to show it to
Aphrodite. I gave her little pats on the nose and long rubs on the
ears, and I did tell her all about it. I did hold it close to her
eyes so she could have well seeing of its beautiful blues like the
blues of the sky. She did grunt thank grunts, and she had wants to
go for a walk right away. I did make invest tag ashuns where there
used to be a weak place in the pig-pen. It was not any more. I did
look close looks at it. I made pulls, but nothing made little slips.
Before it was not like that. I have thinks that chore boy is giving
too much at ten chuns to the fence of this pig-pen that Aphrodite
has living in all of the time I am not taking her on walks. I did
feel some sad feels when I could not take her walking down the lane
with her nice new blue ribbon on. While I did feel the sad feels so,
I did carry bracken ferns to make her a nice bed. It brought her
feels of where we were going for walks where the bracken ferns grew.
When I did have her a nice bed of bracken fern and some more all
about her, I went goes to get the other folks. Back with me came
Brave Horatius and Lars Porsena of Clusium and Thomas Chatterton
Jupiter Zeus and Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil and Felix Mendelssohn
and Louis II, le Grand Condé. When we were all come, I did climb
into the pig-pen and I did tie on Aphrodite’s new ribbon so they all
might have seeing of its blues like the sky. I sang a little thank
song, and we had prayers, and I gave Aphrodite little scratches on
the back with a little stick, like she does so like to have me do.
That was to make up for her not getting to go for a walk where the
bracken ferns grow.
Now teacher is looking very straight looks at me. She says, “Opal,
put that away.” I so do.
* * * * *
To-day it is I do sit here at my desk while the children are out
for play for recess-time. I sit here and I do print. I cannot have
goings to talk with the trees that I do mostly have talks with at
recess-time. I cannot have goings down to the rivière across the
road, like I do so go sometimes at recess-time. I sit here in my
seat. Teacher says I must stay in all this whole recess-time.
It was after some of our reading lessons this morning--it was then
teacher did ask questions of all the school. First she asked Jimmy
eight things at once. She did ask him what is a horse and a donkey
and a squirrel and a engine and a road and a snake and a store and a
rat. And he did tell her all. He did tell her in his way. They she
asked Big Jud some things, and he got up in a slow way and said, “I
don’t know,”--like he most always does,--and he sat down. Then she
asked Lola some things, and Lola did tell her all in one breath.
And teacher marked her a good mark in the book and she gave Lola a
smile. And Lola gave her nice red hair a smooth back and smiled a
smile back at teacher.
Then it was teacher did call my name. I stood up real quick. I did
have thinks it would be nice to get a smile from her like the smile
she did smile upon Lola. And teacher did ask me eight things at once.
She did ask me what is a pig and a mouse and a baby deer and a duck
and a turkey and a fish and a colt and a blackbird. And I did say
in a real quick way, “A pig is a _cochon_ and a mouse is a _mulot_
and a baby deer is a _daine_ and a duck is a _canard_ and a turkey
is a _dindon_ and a fish is a _poisson_ and a colt is a _poulain_
and a blackbird is a _merle_.” And after each one I did say, teacher
did shake her head and say, “It is not”; and I did say, “It is.”
When I was all through, she did say, “You have them all wrong. You
have not told what they are. They are not what you said they are.”
And when she said that I did just say, “They are--they are--they are.”
Teacher said, “Opal, you sit down.” I so did. But when I sat down
I said, “A pig is a cochon--a mouse is a mulot--a baby deer is
a daine--a duck is a canard--a turkey is a dindon--a fish is a
poisson--a colt is a poulain--a blackbird is a merle.” Teacher
says, “Opal, for that you are going to stay in next recess and both
recess-times to-morrow and the next day and the next day.” Then she
did look a look at all the school, and she did say as how my not
getting to go out for recess-times would be an egg sam pull for all
the other children in our school.
They are out at play. It is a most long recess, but I do know a pig
is a cochon, and a mouse is a mulot and a baby deer is a daine and
a duck is a canard and a turkey is a dindon and a fish is a poisson
and a colt is a poulain and a blackbird is a merle. So I do know,
for Angel Father always did call them so. He knows. He knows what
things are. But no one hereabouts does call things by the names Angel
Father did. Sometimes I do have thinks this world is a different
world to live in. I do have lonesome feels.
This is a most long recess. While here I do sit I do hear the
talkings of the more big girls outside the window most near unto my
desk. The children are playing Black Man and the ones more little
are playing tag. I have thinks as how nice it would be to be having
talks with Good King Edward I and lovely Queen Eleanor of Castile
and Peter Paul Rubens and Brave Horatius and Lars Porsena of Clusium
and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus and Aphrodite. And I do think
this is a most long recess.
I still do have hearings of the talkings of the girls outside the
windows. The more old girls are talking what they want. Martha says
she wants a bow. I don’t have seeings why she wants another one.
Both her braids were tied back this morningtime with a new bow, and
its color was the color of the blossoms of _camarine_. Lola says
she wants a white silk dress. She says her life will be complete
when she does have on a white silk dress--a white silk dress with a
little ruffle around the neck and one around each sleeve. She says
she will be a great lady then; and she says all the children will
gather around her and sing when she has her white silk dress on. And
while they sing and while she does have her white silk dress on, she
will stand up and stretch out her arms and bestow her blessing on
all the people like the deacon does in the church at the mill town.
Now teacher is come to the door. She does say, “Opal, you may eat
your lunch--at your desk.” I did have hungry feels and all this
is noon-time instead of short recess-time. It so has been a long
recess-time. I did have thinks when came noon-time of all the things
I would do down by the rivière.
* * * * *
Now I do gather seeds along the road and in the field. I lay in rows
side by side the seeds I gather. With them I do play _comparer_. I
look near looks at them. I do so to see how they look not like one
another. Some are big and some are not so. And some are more large
than others are large. And some do have wrinkles on them. And some
have little wings and some do have silken sails. Many so of all I
did see on my way coming home from school on this eventime, and too
I did see four gray squirrels and two chipmunks; and when I was
come near the meeting of the roads I saw a tramper coming down the
railroad track where the dinky engine comes with cars of lumbers
from the upper camps.
This tramper--he did have a big roll on his back and he walked
steps on the ties in a slow tired way. When I was come more near
to the track, I did have thinks he might have hungry feels. Most
trampers do. While I was having thinks about it, I took the lid off
my dinner-pail. There was just a half a piece of bread and butter
left. I was saving that. I was saving it to make divides between
Peter Paul Rubens and Aphrodite and Felix Mendelssohn and Louis II,
le Grand Condé, and the rest of us. I did look looks from that piece
of bread and butter in the dinner-pail to the tramper going down the
railroad track. I did have little feels of the big hungry feels he
might be having. I ran a quick run to catch up with him.
He was glad for it. He ate it in two bites, and I came a quick way
to our lane. I went along it. I made a stop by a hazel bush. I did
stop to watch a caterpillar making his cradle. He did not move about
while he did make it. He did roll himself up in a leaf. That almost
hid him. He did weave white silk about him. I think it must be an
interesting life to live a caterpillar life. Some days I do think I
would like to be a caterpillar and by-and-by make a silk cradle. The
silk a caterpillar makes its cradle from does come from its mouth.
I have seen it so. But not so have I seen come the silk the spider
does make its web of. This silk does come from the back part of
the back of the spider.
When I was come to the house we live in, I did do the works the mamma
did have for me to do. Then I made begins to fill the wood-box. When
I did have ten sticks piled on its top, I looked to the door where
the mamma was talking with Elsie. I did have sorry feels for the
mamma. I heard her say she lost ten minutes. I did have wants to
help her find them. I looked looks under the cupboard, and they were
not there. I looked looks in the cook-table drawers, and they were
not there. I looked looks into every machine-that-sews drawer, and
I did n’t find them. I crawled under the bed, but I had no seeing
of them. Then I did look looks in all the corners of the house that
we do live in. I looked looks all about. But I did n’t find them. I
have wonders where those ten minutes the mamma lost are gone. While
I did look more looks about for them, she did say for me to get out
of her way. I so did.
I went to look for the fairies. I went to the near woods. I hid
behind the trees and made little runs to big logs. I walked along
the logs and I went among the ferns. I did tiptoe among the ferns.
I looked looks about. I did touch fern-fronds and I did have feels
of their gentle movements. I came to a big root. I hid in it. I so
did to wait waits for the fairies that come among the big trees.
While I did wait waits, I did have thinks about that letter I did
write on the other day for more color pencils that I do have needs
of to print with. I thought I would go to the moss-box by the old
log. I thought I would have goes there to see if the fairies yet did
find my letter. I went. The letter--it was gone. Then I did have
joy feels all over. The color pencils--they were come. There was a
blue one and a green one and a yellow one. And there was a purple
one and a brown one and a red one. I did look looks at them a long
time. It was so nice, the quick way the fairies did bring them.
While I was looking more looks at them, some one did come near the
old root. It was my dear friend Peter Paul Rubens. I gave him four
pats and I showed him all the color pencils. Then I did make a start
to go to the mill by the far woods. Peter Paul Rubens went with me
and Brave Horatius came a-following after. All the way along I did
feel glad feels, and I had thinks how happy the man that wears gray
neckties and is kind to mice would be when he did see how quick the
fairies did answer my letter and bring the color pencils.
[Photograph: LUMBER-CAMP FOLK]
When we were come near the mill by the far woods, it was near
gray-light-time. The lumber men were on their home way. They did
whistle as they did go. Two went side by side, and three came after.
And one came after all. It was the man that wears gray neckties and
is kind to mice. Brave Horatius made a quick run to meet him, and I
did follow after. I did have him guess what it was the fairies did
bring this time. He guessed a sugar-lump for William Shakespeare
every day next week. I told him it was n’t a right guess. He guessed
some more. But he could n’t guess right, so I showed them all to him.
He was so surprised. He said he was so surprised the fairies did
bring them this soon. And he was so glad about it. He always is. He
and I--we do have knows the fairies walk often in these woods, and
when I do have needs of more color pencils to make more prints with,
I do write the fairies about it. I write to them a little letter on
leaves of trees and I do put it in the moss-box at the end of the
old log. Then, after they do come walking in the woods and find the
letter in the moss-box, they do bring the color pencils, and they
lay them in the moss-box. I find them there and I am happy.
No one does have knowing of that moss-box but one. He is the man
that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice. He has knowings of
the letters I do print on leaves and put there for the fairies. And
after he does ask me, and after I do tell him I have wrote to them
for color pencils that I have needs of--he does take a little fern
plant and make a fern wish with it that the fairies will bring to
me the color pencils I have needs of. Then we do plant the little
fern by the old log. And the time is not long until I do find the
color pencils in the moss-box by the old log. I am very happy.
CHAPTER VI
_Opal Gives Wisdom to the Potatoes, Cleanliness to the Family Clothes,
and a Delicate Dinner to Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus._
To-day the grandpa dug potatoes in the field. Too, the chore boy
did dig potatoes in the field. I followed along after. My work was
to pick up the potatoes they got out of the ground. I picked them
up and piled them in piles. Some of them were very plump. Some of
them were not big. All of them wore brown dresses. When they were
in piles, I did stop to take looks at them. I walked up close. I
looked them all over. I walked off and took a long look at them.
Potatoes are very interesting folks. I think they must see a lot of
what is going on in the earth; they have so many eyes. And after I
did look those looks as I did go along, I did count the eyes that
every potato did have, and their numbers were in blessings.
To some piles I did stop to give geology lectures, and some I did
tell about the nursery and the caterpillars in it--the caterpillars
that are going to _hiver_ sleep in silken cradles, and some in
woolen so go. To more potatoes I did tell about my hospital at
St.-Germain-en-Laye in the near woods, and all about the folks that
were in it and that are in it, and how much prayers and songs and
mentholatum helps them to have well feels.
And to some other potatoes I did talk about my friends--about the
talks that William Shakespeare and I do have together; and about how
Lars Porsena of Clusium does have a fondness for collecting things,
and how he does hide them in the oak tree near unto the house we
live in; and about Elizabeth Barrett Browning and the poetry in her
tracks. And one I did tell about the new ribbon Aphrodite has to
wear, and how she does have a fondness for chocolate creams. To the
potato most near unto it I did tell of the little bell that Peter
Paul Rubens does wear to cathedral service. To the one next to it I
did tell how Louis II, le Grand Condé, is a mouse of gentle ways,
and how he does have likings to ride in my sleeve.
And all the times I was picking up potatoes I did have conversations
with them. Too, I did have thinks of all their growing days there
in the ground, and all the things they did hear. Earth-voices are
glad voices, and earth-songs come up from the ground through the
plants; and in their flowering and in the days before these days
are come, they do tell the earth-songs to the wind. And the wind in
her goings does whisper them to folks to print for other folks. So
other folks do have knowing of earth’s songs. When I grow up I am
going to write for children--and grown-ups that have n’t grown up
too much--all the earth-songs I now do hear.
I have thinks these potatoes growing here did have knowings of
star-songs. I have kept watch in the field at night and I have seen
the stars look kindness down upon them. And I have walked between
the rows of potatoes, and I have watched the star-gleams on their
leaves. And I have heard the wind ask of them the star-songs the
star-gleams did tell in shadows on their leaves. And as the wind did
go walking in the field talking to the earth-voices there, I did
follow her down the rows. I did have feels of her presence near.
And her goings by made ripples on my nightgown. Thomas Chatterton
Jupiter Zeus did cuddle more close up in my arms. And Brave Horatius
followed after.
Sometimes, when a time long it is I have been walking and listening
to the voices of the night, then it is Brave Horatius does catch
the corner of my nightgown in his mouth and he pulls--he pulls most
hard in the way that does go to the house we live in. After he does
pull, he barks the barks he always does bark when he has thinks it
is home-going time. I listen. Sometimes I go back. He goes with me.
Sometimes I go on. He goes with me. And often it is he is here come
with me to this field where the potatoes grow. And he knows most
all the poetry I have told them.
On the afternoon of to-day, when I did have a goodly number of
potatoes in piles, I did have thinks as how this was the going-away
day of Saint François of Assisi and the borning day of Jean François
Millet; so I did take as many potatoes as they years did dwell upon
earth. Forty-four potatoes I so took for Saint François of Assisi,
for his years were near unto forty-four. Sixty potatoes I so took
for Jean François Millet, for his years were sixty years. All these
potatoes I did lay in two rows. In one row was forty-four and in
the other row was sixty.
And as I had seeing of them all there, I did have thinks to have a
choir. First I did sing, “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus, Dominus Deus.”
After I did sing it three times, I did have thinks as how it would
be nice to have more in the choir. And I did have remembers as how
to-morrow is the going-away day of Philippe III, roi de France; and
so for the forty years that were his years I did bring forty more
potatoes in a row. That made more in the choir. Then I did sing three
times over, “Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritu Sancto. Hosanna in
excelsis.” Before I did get all through the last time with Hosanna
in excelsis, I did have thinks as how the next day after that day
would be the borning day of Louis Philippe, roi de France, and the
going-away day of Alfred Tennyson. And I did bring more potatoes
for the choir. Seventy-six I did so bring for the years that were
the years of Louis Philippe, roi de France. Eighty-three I so did
bring for the years that were the years of Alfred Tennyson. And the
choir--there was a goodly number of folks in it--all potato folks
wearing brown robes. Then I did sing one “Ave Maria.”
I was going to sing one more, when I did have thinks as how the next
day after the next day after the next day would be the going-away day
of Sir Philip Sidney; so I did bring thirty-one more potatoes for
the choir. It did take a more long time to bring them, because all
the potatoes near about were already in the choir. Brave Horatius
did walk by my side, and he did have seeing as how I was bringing
potatoes to the choir. And so he did bring some--one at a time he did
pick them up and bring them, just like he does pick up a stick of
wood in his mouth when I am carrying in wood. He is a most helpful
dog. To-day I did have needs to keep watches. I did so have needs
to see that he put not more potatoes in the other choir-rows. First
time he did bring a potato, he did lay it down by the choir-row
of Alfred Tennyson. Next potato he did bring he did lay it by the
choir-row of Jean François Millet. Next time I made a quick run when
I did have seeing of him going to lay it down by the choir-row of
Philippe III, roi de France. I did pat my foot and tell him where
to lay it for the choir-row of Sir Philip Sidney. He so did. We did
go for more.
When there were thirty-one potatoes in the choir-row of Sir Philip
Sidney, we did start service again. I did begin with “Sanctus,
sanctus, sanctus, Dominus Deus.” And Brave Horatius did bark Amen.
Then I did begin all over, and he did so again. After we had prayers,
I did sing one more “Ave Maria.” Then I did begin to sing “Deo
Gratias, Hosanna in excelsis,” but I came not unto its ending. Brave
Horatius did bark Amen before I was half done. I just went on. He
walked in front of me and did bark Amen three times.
I was just going to sing the all of it. I did not so. I so did not
because the chore boy did have steps behind me. He gave me three
shoulder-shakes, and he did tell me to get a hurry on me and get
those potatoes picked up. I so did. I so did in a most quick way.
The time it did take to pick them up--it was not a long time. And
after that there was more potatoes to pick up. Brave Horatius did
follow after. He gave helps. He did lay the potatoes he did pick
up on the piles I did pick up. He is a most good dog. When near
gray-light-time was come, the chore boy went from the field. When
most-dark-time was come Brave Horatius and I so went. When we were
come to the house we live in, the folks was gone to visit at the
house of Elsie. I did take my bowl of bread and milk, and I did eat
it on the back steps. Brave Horatius ate his supper near me. He did
eat his all long before I did mine. So I did give him some of mine.
Then we watched the stars come out.
* * * * *
I did not have goings to school to-day, for this is wash-day and the
mamma did have needs of me at home. There was baby clothes to wash.
The mamma does say that is my work, and I do try to do it in the
proper way she does say it ought to be done. It does take quite a
long time, and all the time it is taking I do have longings to go on
exploration trips. And I do want to go talk with William Shakespeare
there where he is pulling logs in the near woods. And I do want to
go talk with Elizabeth Barrett Browning in the pasture, and with
Peter Paul Rubens and Aphrodite in the pig-pens. All the time it
does take to wash the clothes of the baby--it is a long time. And I
do stop at in-between times to listen to the voices. They are always
talking. And the brook that does go by our house is always bringing
songs from the hills.
When the clothes of the baby were most white, I did bring them again
to the wash-bench that does set on the porch that does go out from
our back door. Then there was the chickens to feed, and the stockings
were to rub. Stockings do have needs of many rubs. That makes them
clean. While I did do the rubs, I did sing little songs to the
grasses that grow about our door. After the stockings did have many
rubs, the baby it was to tend. I did sing it songs of songs Angel
Mother did sing to me. And sleeps came upon the baby. But she is a
baby that does have wake-ups between times. To-day she had a goodly
number.
By-and-by, when the washing was part done, then the mamma went away
to the grandma’s house to get some soap. When she went away she did
say she wished she did n’t have to bother with carrying water to
scrub the floor. She does n’t. While she has been gone a good while,
I have plenty of water on the floor for her to mop it when she gets
back. When she did go away, she said to me to wring the clothes
out of the wash. There were a lot of clothes in the wash--skirts
and aprons and shirts and dresses and clothes that you wear under
dresses. Every bit of clothes I took out of the tubs I carried into
the kitchen and squeezed all the water out on the kitchen floor.
That makes lots of water everywhere--under the cook-table and under
the cupboard and under the stove. Why, there is most enough water
to mop the three floors, and then some water would be left over. I
did feel glad feels because it was so as the mamma did want it.
While I did wait for her coming, I did make prints and mind the
baby. When the mamma was come, she did look not glad looks at the
water on the floor. She did only look looks for the switches over
the kitchen window. After I did have many sore feels, she put me
out the door to stay out. I did have sorry feels for her. I did so
try hard to be helps.
When a little way I was gone from the door, I did look looks about. I
saw brown leaves and brown birds. Brown leaves were _érable_ leaves
and _chêne_ leaves, and the brown birds were wrens. And all their
ways were hurry ways. I did turn about and I did go in a hurry way
to a root in the near woods. I so went to get my little candle.
Then I did go to the Jardin des Tuileries. Often it is I do go there
near unto the near woods. Many days after I was here come, I did
go ways to look for Jardin des Tuileries. I found it not. Sadie
McKibben did say there is none such here. Then being needs for it
and it being not, I did have it so. And in it I have put statues of
_hiver_ and all the others, and here I do plant plants and little
trees. And every little tree that I did plant it was for someone
that was. And on their borning days I do hold services by the trees
I have so planted for them.
To-day I did go in quick steps to the tree I have planted for Louis
Philippe, roi de France, for this is the day of his borning in 1773.
I did have prayers. Then I did light my little candle. Seventy-six
big candles Angel Father did so light for him, but so I cannot do,
for only one little candle I have. It did burn in a bright way.
Then I did sing “Deo Gratias.” I so did sing for the borning day of
Louis Philippe, roi de France. Then I did sing “Sanctus, sanctus,
sanctus, Dominus Deus.”
Afterwards I did have thinks about Thomas Chatterton Jupiter
Zeus--about his nose, its feels. I so went in the way that does go
to the hospital. That dear pet rat’s nose is getting well. Some way
he got his nose too near that trap they set for rats in the barn.
Of course, when I found him that morning I let him right out of the
trap. He has a ward all to himself in the hospital. For breakfast
he has some of my oatmeal. For dinner he has some of my dinner.
And for supper I carry to him corn in a jar lid. Sadie McKibben,
who has on her face many freckles and a kind heart, gives me enough
mentholatum to put on his nose seven times a day. And he is growing
better. And to-day when I was come to the hospital, I took him in
my arms. He did cuddle up.
Too, he gave his cheese squeak. That made me have lonesome feels. I
can’t carry cheese to him any more out of the house we live in. I
can’t because, when the mamma learned that I was carrying cheese to
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus, she said to me while she did apply
a kindling to the back part of me: “Don’t you dare carry any more
cheese out to that rat.” And since then I do not carry cheese out to
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus, but I do carry him into the kitchen
to the cheese. I let him sniff long sniffs at it. Then I push his
nose back and I cut from the big piece of cheese delicate slices
for Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. This I do when the mamma is n’t
at home.
To-day, she being come again to the house we live in, I could not
have goings there for Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus to the cheese.
I did go the way that goes to the house of Sadie McKibben. I did go
that way so she might have knowings of the nose-improvements of Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. When I was most come here he did squeak
more of his cheese squeaks. It was most hard--having hearing of him
and not having cheese for him. I could hardly keep from crying. He
is a most lovely wood-rat, and all his ways are ways of gentleness.
And he is just like the mamma’s baby--when he squeaks he does have
expects to get what he squeaks for. I did cuddle him up more close in
my arms. And he had not squeaks again for some little time. It was
when I was talking to Sadie McKibben about the château of Neuilly
that I do have most part done--it was then he did give his squeaks.
He began and went on and did continue so. I just could n’t keep from
crying. His cheese longings are like my longings for Angel Mother
and Angel Father. He did just crawl up and put his nose against my
curls. I did stand first on one foot and then on the other. The
things I was going to say did go in a swallow down my throat.
Sadie McKibben did wipe her hands on her blue gingham apron with
cross stitches on it. She did have askings what was the matter with
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. And I just said, “O Sadie McKibben,
it’s his cheese squeak.” And she said not a word, but she did go in
a quick way to her kitchen. She brought back a piece of cheese. It
was n’t a little piece. It was a great big piece. There’s enough in
it for four breakfasts and six dinners. When Sadie McKibben did give
it to me for him, she did smooth back my curls and she did give me
three kisses--one on each cheek and one on the nose. She smiled her
smile upon us, and we were most happy, and we did go from her house
to the cathedral. There I did have a thank service for the goodness
of God and the goodness of Sadie McKibben, and the piece of cheese
that did bring peace to the lovely Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus.
CHAPTER VII
_The Adventure of the Tramper; and what Happens on Long and on
Short Days._
To-day was a fall-time-is-here day. I heard the men say so that were
talking at the meeting of the roads. From the meeting of the roads
I did hurry on. I so did in a quick way because, when I was come to
the meeting of the roads, I did have remembers as how the mamma did
say at morningtime there was much work to be done before eventime.
When I was come to the house we live in, the mamma and the little
girl and the baby--they were all gone to the house of Elsie. I made
a start at the works. I did feed the chickens, and there was much
wood to bring in, and baby clothes to wash, and ashes to empty from
the stove. These four things I did. I looked looks about to see what
other works did have needs to be done. I had remembers that when the
papa went away to work this morning he said he did not have time to
cut the ham before he went. I have knows if he is too busy in the
morning to get a thing done, it mostly don’t get done when he comes
home from work at night. It so does not, because he has so tired
feels.
To-day I had thinks the time was come when I better help about that
ham. I went out to the wood-shed. I went not out to get wood. I went
out to the wood-shed to ’tend to that ham. I had thinks I better
make an early start or that ham would n’t be cut up by evening. I
piled wood high enough so I could stand on tiptoes and reach to the
flour-sack the ham was tied in. But I could not get that sack down. I
pulled and pulled, but it would n’t come down. I did n’t have knows
what I was going to do. Pretty soon, by having concentration of my
thinks, I thought of a way. I got the scissors and cut the bottom
out of that sack. That ham came down right quick. It landed on its
back on the woodpile. My foot slipped and I landed on top of it.
I got up and dragged it up on the chopping-block. Then I got the
butcher knife from its place in the cook-table drawer. I went to
work. That knife did n’t seem to make moves like the moves it does
make when it is in the hands of the papa. I tried to make it go down
in a quick way. It went not so. I looked close looks at it. Its
appears did have looks like it did have needs of a sharp pennying.
I have seen the papa sharp pen it on the grindstone by the singing
brook. So did I. I poured a goodly amount of water on that stone
wheel. Most of the water splashed off. The rest did trickle away.
Then I did hold that knife to the stone wheel. And I did make tries
to turn it in a quick way like I have seen the papa do. But I could
not make that wheel go in quick turns. It would not so go. I made
big tries for a long time.
When I had thinks the knife did look some better, I did go again
to my work. I walked three times around that ham there on the
chopping-block. I so did to take looks at it to see where I better
make begins. I did have thinks in under its outside where it is most
big would be the proper place. I made begins. I did make the knife to
go a little way. Then I made a stop to rest. Then I made the knife
go some more. I made another stop to rest. I went on. Pretty soon a
slice of ham landed. It fell off the chopping-block onto a stick of
wood. I picked it up. I held it up to take a look at it. My, I did
feel such proud feels from my toes to my curls. I had it cut in such
a nice way. It had frills around it and holes in between--just like
Elsie’s crochet doily that she keeps on her best stand-table. I have
knows the papa never did cut a slice of ham that way. The slices of
ham he cuts--they never do have frilly looks with holes in between.
After I did hang that slice of ham on a nail by the door, I did cut
another slice. It was not so wide but it had more longness and some
strings on it like the little short strings on the nightcap of Jenny
Strong. I had not decides yet where to hang it. It was when I was
having thinks about it--it was then I did hear a heavy step.
I turned me all about, and there was a tramper by the wood-shed
door. He had not gentle looks like some trampers have. His beard did
grow in the hobo way. And his appears did look like he knew not
knowings of neatness. He stood there looking looks at that ham. He
kept his looks on it, and he did walk right into the wood-shed. He
had asking if the mamma was at home. I said, “No, she is not. She
is at the house of Elsie.” Then he says, “I guess I’ll take this
ham along with me.”
I almost lost my breathings, because I did have remembers of all the
days the papa has plans to have that ham for breakfast and dinner
and supper. So I just sat down on the chopping-block. I sat on the
ham and I spread my blue calicoe apron out over it. I put my hand
on its handle that it hangs in the wood-shed by. Me and my apron
covered that ham so he could n’t have seeing of it. And while I sat
on the ham, I did pray God to keep it safe for the breakfasts and
dinners and suppers of the papa and the mamma.
The tramper looked queer looks at me. He came a little more near. I
did pray on. And God in his goodness sent answers to my prayer in a
quick way. Brave Horatius came on a run from somewhere. He made a
stop at the wood-shed door. He looked a look in. He gave a growl.
Then he went at that tramper. He did grab him by his ragged pants.
I have thinks maybe his teeth did touch the ankle of the tramper,
because he gave a little pain squeal and shook his leg. Then he did
go in a hurry away. Brave Horatius followed after.
I was just going to start work again on that ham, when the mamma
was come home from her visit. She did soon give me a whipping and
put me here under the bed. Now I have wonders what that whipping
was for. I did feed the chickens and carry in the wood and do the
baby’s washing and empty the ashes. And more I did beside--I cut
two slices of ham with frills on them.
Now I have thinks about trampers--how they do differ. Many of them
follow the railroad track. They make goes to the upper camps beyond
the rivière. They do carry a roll on their backs. They so carry their
blankets. They go that way and some of them come down the track very
soon again. Some stay nowhere long.
Some of the trampers that go the way that goes to the upper camps
do have stops when they go by here. They stop to get a bite to eat.
And some come to the front door, and some do come to the back door.
They knock on the door. Some rap their knuckles hard and some tap in
a gentle way. There was one who so did one week ago. Sleeps was just
come upon the baby after I did sing it “Le chanson de Saint Firmin,”
and I did go to the door to see who it was. The man that it was, he
said he was on his way to get work at the upper camps. He was a man
with a clean sad face and a kind look in his eyes. And the roll upon
his back was a heavy roll. I straightway did go and get my bowl of
bread and milk that I was going to have for dinner. I gave it to him.
He ate it in a hungry way, like Brave Horatius does eat his supper
when we are come back from a long explore trip. Then, when the man
did eat all the bread and milk, he did split some wood out in the
woodshed. He did pile it up in a nice way. Then he went. He went on
to the upper camps. When he did go he said, “The Lord’s blessing
be with you, child.” I said, “It is.” And I did tell him, “We have
a cathedral in the woods--and this eventime, when we have prayers
there, we will pray that you may get work at the upper camps.” And
at coming of eventime we did. And Peter Paul Rubens did grunt Amen
at in-between times. Now every day we do pray for the man that was
hungry and had a kind look in his eyes.
* * * * *
Some days are long. Some days are short. The days that I have to
stay in the house are the most long days of all. In the morningtime
of now, I had thinks to go on explores. I was going to Saint Firmin
and adown the Nonette. I was going to listen to its singings. And
Peter Paul Rubens and Brave Horatius and Lars Porsena of Clusium and
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus--we were all going together. When I
did have the wood in the wood-box, the mamma hollered at me. She
said when she got back from Elsie’s she was going to make me stay
in the house all the rest of the day.
While she was gone to the house of Elsie, I did make prepares. I
took all the safety-pins out of the machine drawer. I took all the
patch-pieces out of the mamma’s work-basket. I made patches all over
my underskirt except where I do sit down. I put Louis II, le Grand
Condé, in one of the pockets I did so make. I put Lucian Horace Ovid
Virgil in another one. In one more pocket I put Felix Mendelssohn.
He peeked out. Then he settled down. He so does like to take naps in
the pockets I pin on my underskirts. I put Nannerl Mozart in another
pocket. Then, when the mamma was come, I did walk into the house in
a quiet way.
Before she did go she told me do’s to do while she was gone. She told
me to keep the fire going and to tend the baby--to fix its bottle for
it and to mind it all the time. Then she shut the door and locked it
and went in the way that does go to the house of the grandma by the
meeting of the roads. I did watch her out the window. Then I did put
some more wood in the fire. After that I did look looks about. There
are no rows and rows and rows of books in this house, like Angel
Mother and Angel Father had. There is only three books here. One is
a cook-book and one is a doctor-book and one is a almanac. They all
are on top of the cupboard most against the top of the house. They
have not interest names on their backs. The alarm-clock does set on
the shelf where it always sets all day long. At night-time it sets
on a chair by the bed that the mamma and the papa sleep in. It sets
on the chair all night with its alarm set. It is so the papa will
be made awake early in the morning. That clock has interest looks.
Some day when there is not a fire in the stove, I have thinks I
will take that clock apart to see what its looks are inside. On a
day when there is no fire in the stove, I will climb upon it. I can
reach that shelf when I stand on tiptoe on top of the stove.
After I did look looks at the clock, I did look looks out the front
window. There are calf-tracks by our front door. These tracks are
there because when I went walking with Elizabeth Barrett Browning on
yesterday, I had her wait at the front step while I did go into the
kitchen to get her some sugar-lumps. She has a fondness for sweet
things. I think she will grow up to be a lovely cow. Her mooings now
are very musical, and there is poetry in her tracks. She does make
such dainty ones. When they dry up in the lane, I dig up her tracks,
and I save them. There is much poetry in them; and when I take her
track out that I keep in the back part of the cook-table drawer, I
look at it and think, this way passed Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
After I did look looks out the front window, I did look looks out the
back window. William Shakespeare and the others--they were pulling
in logs. That Rob Ryder was trying to make them go more fast. All
the horses do have to pull so hard when they pull logs in. Sometimes
they look tired looks, and when they are come in from work I go to
the barn. I rub their heads; for when the mamma is tired she does
like rubs on her head.
CHAPTER VIII
_How Opal Takes a Walk in the Forest of Chantilly; she Visits Elsie
and her Baby Boy, and Explains Many Things to the Girl that Has no
Seeing._
While I did watch the horses, the baby had wake-ups. I went to sing
her to sleep. I sang her about William Wordsworth. When sleeps was
come upon the baby I had remembers when she went away the mamma
wished she did have some varnish to shine up the furniture with.
So while she is gone I have given the furniture a shine-up with
vaseline. Vaseline gives just as bright a shine as varnish does. I
have aunt tis a pay shuns the mamma will be pleased when her arrives
come home.
When the furniture was all fixed proper, I looked a look out the
window. Raindrops were beginning to come down from the sky. Their
coming was in a gentle way. I had longs to be out with them. I so do
like to feel the raindrops patter on my head and I like to run runs
and hold out my hands to meet them. There was more rain and there
was sunshine. There came across the sky the _arc-en-ciel_. Then was
its going, and grayness after. I watched the raindrops in the brook
going on and on. When I grow up I am going to write a book about a
raindrop’s journey.
While I did watch the raindrops I had longs to go to the forêt
de Chantilly and adown by Nonette. I did have thinks more about
it. I took some of the wood out of the wood-box. I stood it up for
trees. I called them all forêt de Chantilly. We went a walk between
them--Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil and I did. Then I took the dipper
full of water and I let it pour in little pours a rivière on the
kitchen floor. That was for Nonette. Then all of us went a walk by
Nonette. We went in little steps to make the time go longer. Felix
Mendelssohn perched on my shoulder. Louis II, le Grand Condé, did
ride in my hands, and Nannerl Mozart in my apron pocket. I took some
more water and the dipper and I made it go a little rivière to join
Nonette. Then we went a walk by Lounette. And more I did pour in
little pours to join Nonette. That was for Aunette.
After we did have walks all in between the forêt de Chantilly, I took
more sticks from the wood-box back of the stove and I made another
forêt. Then we went walking in the forêt d’Ermenonville. When we
were come back from that walk, I made some lions out of cheese. Two
I made. I made them to put in forêt de Chantilly at the begins of
route du Connétable. Then we went a walk again in forêt de Chantilly.
I had to have carefuls not to go a step too big, because I did stand
the sticks of wood near unto one another, and if I took a big step
they might have falls over.
While I was standing up more sticks of woods for more trees in
forêt de Chantilly, the baby did have wake-ups. I went to sing it
to sleep. I sang it about Good King Edward I. When I went again
into the kitchen, there was Louis II, le Grand Condé, and Felix
Mendelssohn and Nannerl Mozart all in the forêt de Chantilly. They
were at the begins of the route du Connétable. They were nibbling
nibbles at the two lions there of cheese. Already they did have
ragged noses, where all of the three mouses did nibble nibbles. I
have thinks I will have to make lions of stone for the begins of
route du Connétable. The baby had wakes-up again. I did sing it to
sleep with _chant d’automne_.
Now I sit here and I print. The baby sleeps on. The wind comes
creeping in under the door. It calls, “Come, come, petite Françoise,
come.” It calls to me to come go exploring. It sings of the things
that are to be found under leaves. It whispers the dreams of the tall
fir trees. It does pipe the gentle song the forest sings on gray
days. I hear all the voices calling me. I listen--but I cannot go.
* * * * *
Now are come the days of brown leaves. They fall from the trees.
They flutter on the ground. When the brown leaves flutter, they are
saying little things. They talk with the wind. I hear them tell of
their borning days when they did come into the world as leaves. And
they whisper of the hoods they wore then. I saw them. I use to
count them on the way to school. To-day they were talking of the
time before their borning days of this springtime. They talked on
and on, and I did listen on to what they were telling the wind and
the earth in their whisperings. They told how they were a part of
earth and air before their tree-borning days. And now they are going
back. In gray days of winter they go back to the earth again. But
they do not die.
And in the morning of to-day it was that I did listen to these
talkings of the brown leaves. Then I faced about. I turned my face
and all of me to the way that leads to the house we live in, for
there was much works to be done.
When I was come to the house I went around and I did walk in the back
doorway. The mamma was n’t in. I took long looks about to see what
works I best do first. There was washed-up dishes in a bake-pan,
so I did dish-towel them all and put them away. There was needs to
climb upon a chair and upon a box, to put those dishes where they
ought to be put. While I was up there, I took looks about to see
what there was. I saw a cake of bon ami. Bon ami is to give things a
shine-up. And this morning I gave the knives a shine-up and the forks
too. Then I tried bon ami on the black kettles and the bake-pans. It
did not give unto them such nice appears, so I gave them a shine-up
with vaseline. After that I did take the broom from its place, and
I gave the floor a good brooming. I broomed the boards up and down
and cross-ways. There was not a speck of dirt on them left. What I
did sweep off with the broom, I did place into a shoe-box lid and
dust it in the stove. Then the floor did look clean like the mamma
does say it ought to look all the time. I put the broom back in its
place where the mamma does say it ought to be.
Then I did look looks from the floor to the window. I thought I
better clean the window too while I was fixing things. Just when I
started to put bon ami on the window, I did look out to see what I
could see. I saw Agamemnon Menelaus Dindon going in a slow walk by.
He was giving his neck a stretch-out. He gave it another one, and
when he made a swallow his throat did look appears of croup. And
croup does always have needs of being fixed up. So I laid down the
bon ami, and I went and I did pour a whole lot of coal-oil down the
throat of Agamemnon Menelaus Dindon. That was to make his croup go
away. Now he will be feeling well feels real soon. He did n’t want
to take the coal-oil. I had to hold him tight. Some turkey gobblers
can kick most hard.
When I did have him fixed I thought I better take looks about to
see if any more folks did have croup appears. I yet did have some
coal-oil left in the bottle. Few folks were about, and none did have
croup looks. So I did go again to the cleaning of the window. When
that was done in the proper way the mamma says it ought to be done,
I did stop to eat some bread and milk, for it was after dinner-time
and it was a long time before supper-time.
After that I went out in the wood-shed where the papa keeps his
tools. He keeps them in a big box. Some days he forgets to lock the
box. Those days I have very interesting times in the wood-shed.
There are all kinds of queer-looking things in that tool-box. Just
when I did have the lid open the mamma did call.
She was come again home, and she sent me back to Elsie’s to get the
tidy she was crocheting that she did forget and leave there. So I
did go the way that does lead to the house of Elsie. It is not far
from the house we live in, and Elsie has not been married long. She
only has one baby. She has much liking for it. Elsie is a very young
girl--a very young girl to be married, the mamma says. To-day when I
came to the house of Elsie, she was trotting on her knee that dear
baby boy the angels brought her when she did live at the other camp
where we did live too. To him she was singing a song. It was--
“Gallop-a-trot,
Gallop-a-trot,
This is the way the gentlemen ride,
Gallop-a-trot.”
She tossed her head as she did sing. And the joy-light danced in
her eyes.
I have thinks it must be wonderful happiness to be married. I have
seen the same joy-light in the eyes of her tall young husband. It
is there much when he is come home at eventide from work in the
woods. Then she does have many kind words and kisses for him. He has
adoors for her, and too he has a pumpadoor that he smooths back with
vaseline. Why to-day I did see he had used most all of the vaseline
out of that jar that sets on their kitchen shelf. That vaseline jar
has an interest look. I have been watching it. And every day when
I do stand on tiptoe and take peeks at it, there is not so much
vaseline in it as there was in it the day before. I have thinks it
does take a goodly amount to keep his pumpadoor smooth.
While I was bringing home the tidy the mamma did leave at the house
of Elsie, I met a _chapine_ baby. He did sail away. _Érable_ leaves
did go in little hops, and so went I. Soon I saw a gray board. I did
turn it over. Under that old gray board were five little silk bags.
They were white and they did feel lumps. I know baby spiders will
come out of them when comes spring days, because last year I found
bags like these, and this year in the spring baby spiders walked
out. They were very fidgety youngsters.
Just when I did most have decides to take them to the nursery, I
heard the mamma calling. I put the board back again in the way it was
before I came that way. Then I did run a quick run to the house. And
the mamma did send me in a hurry to the wood-shed. It was for two
loads of wood she wanted. I did bring in the first load in a hurry.
The second load I brought not so. I did pick up all the sticks my
arms could hold. While I was picking them up, I looked long looks
at them. I went not to the kitchen with them in a quick way. I was
meditating. I did have thinks about the tree they all were before
they got chopped up. I did wonder how I would feel if I was a very
little piece of wood that got chopped out of a very big tree. I did
think that it would have hurt my feelings. I felt of the feelings
of the wood. They did have a very sad feel.
Just when I was getting that topmost stick a bit wet with sympathy
tears--then the mamma did come up behind me with a switch. She said
while she did switch, “Stop your meditations.” And while she did
switch, I did drop the wood. I felt the feels the sticks of wood
felt when they hit the floor. Then I did pick them up with care and
I put them all in the wood-box back of the cook-stove. I put them
there because the mamma said I must put them there. But all the time
I was churning I did hum a little song. It was a good-bye song to
the sticks in the wood-box back of the kitchen stove.
When the churning was done and the butter was come, the mamma did
lift all the little lumps of butter out of the churn. Then she did
pat them together in a big lump, and this she put away in the
butter-box in the wood-shed. When she went to lay herself down to
rest on the bed, she did call me to rub her head. I like to rub the
mamma’s head, for it does help the worry lines to go away. Often I
rub her head, for it is often she does have longings to have it so.
And I do think it is very nice to help people have what they do have
longings for.
By-and-by, when the mamma did have sleeps and after I did print, I
did go to listen to the voices. The wind was calling. His calling
was to little wood-folk and me. He did call more again: “Come,
petite Françoise, come go explores.” He was in a rush. I raced.
Brave Horatius ran. We played tag with the wind. The wind does
have many things to tell. He does toss back one’s curls so he can
whisper things in one’s ears. To-day he did twice push back my curls
three times, that I might better hear what he did have to say. He
whispered little whispers about the cradles of moths to be that hang
a-swinging on the bushes in the woods. I went around to see about
it. I looked looks on many bushes. Some brown leaves were swinging
from some bushes. No cradles I found.
By-and-by I came to a log. It was a nice little log. It was as long
as three pigs as long as Peter Paul Rubens. I climbed upon it. I so
did to look more looks about. The wind did blow in a real quick way.
He made music all around. I danced on the log. It is so much a big
amount of joy to dance on a log when the wind does play the harps
in the forest. Then do I dance on tiptoe. I wave greetings to the
plant-bush folks that do dance all about. To-day a grand pine tree
did wave its arms to me. And the bush branches patted my cheek in a
friendly way. The wind again did blow back my curls. They clasp the
fingers of the bush people most near. I did turn around to untangle
them. It is most difficult to dance on tiptoe on a log when one’s
curls are in a tangle with the branches of a friendly bush that
grows near unto the log and does make bows to one while the wind
doth blow.
When I did turn to untangle my curls, I saw a silken cradle in a
hazel branch. I have thinks that the wind did just tangle my curls
so I would have seeing of that cradle. It was cream, with a hazel
leaf half-way round it. I put it to my ear and I did listen. It
had a little voice. It was not a tone voice. It was a heart voice.
While I did listen, I did feel its feels. It has lovely ones. And I
did hurry away in the way that does lead to the house of the girl
that has no seeing. I went that way so she too might know its feels
and hear its heart voice. She does so like to feel things. She has
seeing by feels. Often I do carry things to her when I find them and
she knows some of my friends. Peter Paul Rubens has gone with me to
visit her. So has gone Felix Mendelssohn and Nannerl Mozart--the two
mices with voices that squeak mouse-songs in the night. And Plato
and Pliny, the two bats, and others go too. And their goings and
what she has thinks about them I have printed here in my prints. And
it is often I go the way that does lead to her house, for the girl
who has no seeing--she and I--we are friends.
One day I told her about the trees talking. Then she did want to
know about the voices, and now I do help her to hear them. And too I
tell her about _comparer_, that Angel Father did teach me to play,
and I show her the way. She cannot look long looks at things, to see
how they look not looks alike, because she has no seeing. So she is
learning to play _comparer_ by feels.
To-day, after she did feel the feels of the cream cradle and we did
play _comparer_, then she asked me what the trees were saying. And I
led her out across her yard and away to the woods, and Brave Horatius
did follow after. I led her in the way that does lead to that grand
fir tree, Good King Louis VI. And when we were come unto him, I did
touch his finger-tips to her cheeks. She liked that. Then we did
stand near unto him, and I told her of the trees in the night, of
the things they tell to the shadows that wander through the woods.
She said she did n’t think she would like to be a shadow.
And just then she stubbed her toe. She did ask me what that was
there near unto her foot. I told her it was a _ville_ I did build
there--the ville of St. Denis. She wanted to know why I builded
it there. I told her there was needs of it, being near unto Good
King Louis VI, for he so loved it; so I builded it there where his
branches shelter it and his kindness looks kind looks upon it. And
I did tell her about his being on his way to St. Denis when he
died. While I builded up again the corner of the abbey, I did give
explanations about how lovely it is to be a gray shadow walking
along and touching the faces of people. Shadows do have such velvety
fingers.
After that we did go on. We went on on to where dwell Alan of
Bretagne and Étienne of Blois and Godefroi of Bouillon and Raymond
of Toulouse. To each I led the girl who has no seeing, and she was
glad to know them all. They are grand trees. As we went our way, we
did listen unto the voices. And I took all the hairpins that was
in her hair out of it. I so did so the wind could blow it back and
whisper things into her ears. The wind does have so much to tell of
far lands and of little folks that dwell near unto us in the fields
and in the woods.
To-day near eventime I did lead the girl who has no seeing a little
way away into the forest, where it was darkness, and shadows were.
I led her toward a shadow that was coming our way. It did touch her
cheeks with its velvety fingers. And now she too does have likings
for shadows. And her fear that was is gone. And after that we turned
about to the way that does lead out of the forest. And so we went
and I led her again home. We did hurry a bit. We so did because it
was most time for her folks to be there. Often she does say I must
n’t be thereabout when her folks are thereabout. I don’t be.
At the steps of the door that does go into her house she did tell
me good-bye. When she so did, she kissed me on each cheek like she
always does. Then I did turn my face to the way that leads to the
house we live in. Cloud-ships were sailing over the hills. They were
in a hurry. The wind was in a hurry. Brown leaves, little ones and
big ones, were hurrying along. I thought I had better get a hurry
on me. I did.
When I was come near unto the barn, I did go in to get Plato and
Pliny. I put them in my apron pockets. The barn was rather dark.
There were friendly shadows in its corners. When I came out I thought
of Peter Paul Rubens. I did have thinks cathedral service would be
good for his soul. I went again into the barn to get his little bell
that he does always wear around his neck to service, and I did put
it on. There was a time when there was no little bell for Peter Paul
Rubens to wear to service. That was in the days before one day when
I did say to the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice,
“I do have needs of a little bell for Peter Paul Rubens to wear to
church.” I got it. And Peter Paul Rubens always knows he is going to
the cathedral when I put that little bell around his neck. It does
make lovely silver tinkles as he goes walking down the aisle to the
altar.
To-night so we did go, and too with us was Elizabeth Barrett
Browning. When we were come near unto the hospital, I went aside
for Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. In the cathedral the wind and
the trees sang a vesper song. And I prayed for quite a time long
little prayers and long prayers for the goodness of us all. Peter
Paul Rubens did grunt Amen at in-between times.
Now I hear the mamma say, “I wonder where Opal is.” She has forgets.
I’m still under the bed where she did put me quite a time ago. And
all this nice long time light is come to here from the lamp on the
kitchen table--light enough so I can print prints. I am happy. I
think I better crawl out now and go into the bed for sleeps.
CHAPTER IX
_Of an Exploring Trip with Brave Horatius; and how Opal Kept Sadness
away from her Animal Friends._
Near eventime to-day I did go out the house when the works were
done. I went out the front door and a little way down the path. I
made a stop to watch the clouds. They first did come over the hills
in a slow way. Then they did sail on and on. They were like ships.
I did have wonders what thoughts they were carrying from the hills
to somewhere. While I did watch, Brave Horatius did come and stand
by my side. He looked up at me. In his eyes were askings. I made
explainings. I told him, “Le ciel est plein de nuages, qui ont l’air
de navires.”
While I did talk with him, the mamma did call. I went in. Brave
Horatius followed after. She made him go out the other door. I went
too. I went to get the potatoes the mamma wanted for supper. I got
them out of a sack in the wood-shed. When she did make prepares to
peel the potatoes, the mamma reached away back in the cook-table
drawer for the paring knife. When she did reach so far back, she
did feel the track of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Then she pulled
it out real quick. She threw it out the window. When I went to pick
it up, it was broken into eleven pieces. I did gather up all the
pieces. They got a little bit wet from tears that trickled down my
nose. When I did get the pieces together, I did put them in the back
part of the machine drawer.
While I so did, I heard a grunt by the bedroom window. I climbed out.
There was Peter Paul Rubens, and near unto him was Brave Horatius.
To each I gave four pats on the nose. They have likes for pats on
the nose. Then I went adown the path. They walked beside me. I saw
the cloud-ships sailing on. I made a stop to tell Peter Paul Rubens
what I did tell Brave Horatius. I did n’t get it all told. When I
did say, “Le ciel est plein de nuages,” Peter Paul Rubens did grunt
a grunt to go on. That was his own dear way of telling me he already
did have knowings those clouds looked like ships. I gave him a pat
and one to Brave Horatius too.
I went on. They walked beside me. I went on a little way. Then I did
go aside from the path. I so went to the altar of Saint Louis. Three
logs and four stumps and three trees it is distant from the path. And
I took there with me all the little plants with green leaves--the
ones I did dig up yesterday. I brought them to plant them in a crown
there on his altar, for this day is the day of his crowning in 1226.
While I did plant them, the wind did sing a memory song. And the
trees were talking. I have thinks they were saying of the goodness
of Saint Louis. Peter Paul Rubens, he did have understanding of
what they were saying. He did grunt Amen at in-between times.
* * * * *
To-day in the morning, when the mamma was in the other room, I did
take down from its hook the papa’s big coat. I did put it onto me
and it did trail away out behind. I like to wear the papa’s big
coat. Jenny Strong, who comes to visit us, says the reason I like to
wear the papa’s big coat is because it makes me more grown-up. She’s
wrong. The reason I like to wear the papa’s big coat is because it
has pockets in it--big ones--nice ones to put toads and mice and
caterpillars and beetles in. That’s why I like to wear the papa’s
coat. Why, when I go walking in the papa’s big coat, nearly the whole
nursery can go along. This morning, just as I was making a start
out the door to the nursery, the mamma came into the kitchen. She
did hurry to the door and I did hurry out. But she caught me by the
end of the coat. She did get that coat off of me in a quick way.
She hung it back on its nail. When it was hung on its nail in the
proper way, she gave to me a shoulder-shake. And I did go to feed
the chickens.
After I did feed the chickens all, and have some conversations with
them, I went in to get the lard-pail that does have my school lunch in
it. While I was putting my jacket on, the mamma did tie a new piece
of asfiditee around my neck to keep me from having disease. It was
a big piece of asfiditee. It did n’t stay a big piece very long. I
divided it with my animal friends. Now each one of us has a bit of
asfiditee tied around our necks, so we will not catch sickness. I
do so like to share things. I could not find Brave Horatius to give
him his share. I did have it already to tie around his dear neck,
but he did not answer when I did call. I called in the woods and I
called in the field. When he did not come, I went a little way back
in the woods to a root. I hid his piece of asfiditee there. To-morrow
morning I will tie it around his neck.
Near the root was a little wren. I made a stop to watch him. He was
in a hurry. I thought he would tip over. I went in a hurry to help
him. Before I was come to the root he was gone. And I saw his short
tail no more.
When I got to school, teacher was standing there in the door. She
was looking far-off looks in the way that does lead to the river.
I thought maybe she was having dream-thoughts. I was just going to
walk past her, when she turned me about for inspection. She felt
the outside of my left apron pocket, but I did n’t bring my pet
toad again to school this morning. I am not going to risk his life
again. Next time I am going to bring him to school in a pocket in
my underskirt.
Most all day in school to-day I did study from the books Angel Mother
and Angel Father did make for me. I did screwtineyes the spell of
words. When school was let out, I went in the way that does lead to
a grove where many _chêne_ trees do dwell. I so went to get brown
leaves. After I did have a goodly number of leaves, I did face about
in the way that does lead to the willow creek.
When I was come to the log that goes across the creek I went halfway
across. I went not all way across because this is the going-away-day
of Henry I in 1135, and I did pause to scatter leaves upon the
waters. I let them fall one by one. And they were sixty-seven, for
his years were sixty-seven.
Then I went to bugle in the canyon. I did go by the pig-pen. I went
that way to get Peter Paul Rubens. He does so like to go for walks
in that canyon of the far woods when I go to bugle there. And I do
so like to have him go. I have thinks the trees and the ferns and
the singing brook all have gladness when Peter Paul Rubens comes
a while to walk in the woods. He does carry so much joy with him
everywhere he goes.
To-day near eventime we did walk our way back unto near the cathedral.
We made a stop there for a short prayer service. First I said Our
Father, and then I said two short prayers; one was a thank prayer, and
one was a glad prayer. As always, Peter Paul Rubens did grunt Amen
at in-between times. Then he did go his way to the pig-pen to get
his supper. And I went aside to see if there was any sheeps on the
hillside. I saw not one. And so I come again to the field. Elizabeth
Barrett Browning was at the pasture-bars. There was lonesome feels
in her mooings. I went and put my arm around her neck. It is such
a comfort to have a friend near when lonesome feels do come.
CHAPTER X
_How Brave Horatius is Lost and Found again, but Peter Paul Rubens
is Lost Forever._
I have wonders where is Brave Horatius. He comes not at my calling.
Two days he is now gone. For him I go on searches. I go the three
roads that go the three ways from where they have meeting in front
of the ranch house. On and on I go. To the Orne and Rille I go. I
go adown their ways. I call and call. Into the woods beyond the
rivière--into the forêt de Saint-Germain-en-Laye I go. I listen.
The sounds that were in time of summer are not now. Brave Horatius
is not there. I call and call. Then I come back again. I go to the
house of the girl who has no seeing. I go on. I go across the fields
of Auvergne and Picardie. But I have no seeing of my Brave Horatius.
I come back again. The man that wears gray neckties and is kind
to mice--he does keep watch by the mill. But these two days he
has had no seeing of Brave Horatius. I have wonders where can he
be. Every time I see the chore boy he does sing, “There was a
little dog and his name was Rover, and when he died, he died all
over--and--when--he--died--he--died--all--over.” The last part he
does wail in a most long way. I have not listenings to what that
chore boys says. I go on. I pray on. I look and I look for Brave
Horatius. I go four straight ways and I come back four different
ways. When I am come I go back and forth by Jardin des Tuileries
and across Pont Royal and adown the singing creek where the willows
grow. Lonesome feels are everywhere. I call and I do call. And I do
go on and on to where Rhone flows around Camargue.
I turn about and I go in the way that does go to the forêt de
Montmorency. I go to the forêt de Montmorency. No tree here is a
_chataignier_. But anyway I do call it forêt de Montmorency, and
often it is I come here; here I come with Brave Horatius. I went in
through and out through, but no answerings did come when I did call.
I wonder where he is. In the morning of to-day, when I did go that
way, I did meet with the father of Lola. And I did ask if he had
seen my Brave Horatius. He did have no seeing of him, and he did ask
where all I was going on searches. I did tell him to Orne and Yonne
and Rille and to Camargue and Picardie and Auvergne and to the forêt
de Montmorency. And when I did so tell him, he did laugh. Most all
the folks do laugh at the names I do call places hereabout. They
most all do laugh ’cepting Sadie McKibben. She smiles and smoothes
out my curls and says, “Name ’em what ye are a mind to, dearie.”
Sadie McKibben has an understanding soul. She keeps watch out of her
window for seeings of Brave Horatius, and she has promised me she
will ask everybody that she does see go by her house if they have
had seeings of Brave Horatius.
All my friends do feel lonesome feels for Brave Horatius. Lars Porsena
of Clusium hardly has knowing what to do. And Peter Paul Rubens did
have goings with me three times on searches. And when I did have
stops to pray, he did grunt Amen. And he would like to have goings
with me on the afternoon of to-day. But the pig-pen fence--it was
fixed most tight; and I could n’t unfix it with the hammer, so he
might have goings with me. I did start on. He did grunt grunts to
go. I did feel more sad feels. I do so like to have him go with me
on explores and searches. To-day I did go on, and then I did come
back to give him more good-bye pats on the nose until I was come
again. So I did four times. I did tell him when Brave Horatius was
found we would soon come to his pen.
Then I went on. On I went not far, for the mamma did call me to come
tend the baby. And I came again to the house we live in. When sleeps
was upon the baby, I lay me down to sleep, for tired feels was upon
me. Now I feel not so. I have been making prints. The mamma is gone
with the baby to the house of Elsie. I go now again to seek for my
Brave Horatius.
A little way I went. A long way I went. When I was come part way back
again, I climbed upon the old gray fence made of rails. I walked
adown it to the gate-post and there I sat. I sat there until I saw
the shepherd bringing down the sheep from the blue hills. When he was
come in sight, I went up the road to meet him and all the sheeps.
And when I was come near unto them, I did have seeing there by the
shepherd’s side did abide my Brave Horatius. I was happy. I was full
of glad feels. Brave Horatius showed his glad feels in his tail--and
he did look fond looks at the flock of sheep. I so did, too. And
in the flock there was Bede of Jarrow and Alfric of Canterbury and
Albéric de Briançon and Felix of Croyland. And there was Cynewulf
and Alcuin and Orderic and Gwian and Elidor. And in the midst of the
flock there was Guy de Cavaillon and Raoul de Houdenc and Edwin of
Diera and Adamnan of Iona. I did give to each and every one a word
of greeting as I did walk among the flock. And there were others
that I had not yet given names to. And last of them all--last of
all the flock was Dallan Forgaill.
And when we were come a little way, the shepherd did ask me again
what were the names I did call his sheep, and I told him all over
again. And he did say them after me. But the ways he did say them
were not just the ways I say them--some of them. And he did ask me
where I did have gettings of those names. And I did tell him I did
have gettings of those names from my two books that Angel Mother
and Angel Father did write in.
[Photograph: AT THE PASTURE-BARS]
We went on. Pretty soon I did tell him as how it was while he was
gone away to the blue hills I did choose for him another name. I
told him how sometimes I did call him by that other name. He did
have wantings to know what the other name was. I did tell him this
new name I have for him is Aidan of Iona come from Lindisfarne. He
liked it. I told him I did too. We went on. We did have talks. When
we were come near unto the lane I did say, “Good-bye, Aidan of Iona
come from Lindisfarne. I am glad you and the flock are come.” He
gave my curls a smooth back and he said, “Good-bye, little one.”
Then Brave Horatius and I went in a hurry in the way that does go to
the pig-pen. When we were gone part ways I looked a look back, and
in the road there I saw Aidan of Iona come from Lindisfarne still
watching us. Then we went on. And we were full of gladness when we
did reach the pig-pen, for Brave Horatius and Peter Paul Rubens and
I--we are friends. I did say a long thank prayer for that we were
together again. And Peter Paul Rubens did grunt Amen.
* * * * *
I am feeling all queer inside. Yesterday was butchering day. Among
the hogs they butchered was Peter Paul Rubens. The mamma let me go
off to the woods all day, after my morning’s work was done. Brave
Horatius and Lars Porsena of Clusium went with me--a part of the
time he perched on my shoulder, and then he would ride on the back
of Brave Horatius. Felix Mendelssohn rode in my apron pocket and
Elizabeth Barrett Browning followed after.
We had not gone far when we heard an awful squeal--so different
from the way pigs squeal when they want their supper. I felt cold
all over. Then I did have knowings why the mamma had let me start
away to the woods without scolding. And I ran a quick run to save
my dear Peter Paul Rubens; but already he was dying--and he died
with his head in my lap. I sat there feeling dead, too, until my
knees were all wet with blood from the throat of my dear Peter Paul
Rubens. After I changed my clothes and put the bloody ones in the
rain-barrel, I did go to the woods to look for the soul of Peter Paul
Rubens. I did n’t find it, but I think when comes the spring I will
find it among the flowers--probably in the blossom of a _faon_ lily
or in the top of a fir tree. To-day, when Brave Horatius and I went
through the woods, we did feel its presence near. When I was come
back from the woods, they made me grind sausage, and every time I
did turn the handle I could hear that little pain squeal Peter Paul
Rubens always gave when he did want me to come where he was at once.
CHAPTER XI
_How Opal Took the Miller’s Brand out of the Flour-Sack, and Got
Many Sore Feels thereby; and how Sparks Come on Cold Nights; and
how William Shakespeare Has Likings for Poems._
This day, when I was come home from school, I did have much wood to
carry in, for cold days are come. I did make goes to the wood-shed
to get the wood. Going to the wood-shed I passed that new flour-sack
hanging on the clothes-line. It was flapping in the wind. By and
by that flour-sack is going to evolute into an underskirt for me
to wear under my dress when I go to school. I got my arms full of
wood--as much as they could hold. Then I came into the house to put
the wood into the box behind the stove.
The mamma was standing by the window. She looked worry looks at
that new flour-sack hanging on the clothes-line there. She said she
wished she knew a quicker way to get that miller’s brand out of
the flour-sack. She put on her fascinator and went a-visiting. She
told me to watch the baby that was sleeping on the bed. While I was
carrying in more sticks of wood, I tried to think of a quicker way
to get that miller’s brand out of that flour-sack a-flapping there
in the window.
When enough wood was in and two more loads besides, I did sit on
the wood-box. After I did sit still a most long time, thinks did
come of a way. I got the scissors out. I got them out of the mamma’s
work-basket. The time it did take to cut the miller’s brand out of
the flour-sack, it was only a little time. And when it was fixed,
I did fold it in nice folds with the nice crooks sticking out. The
scissors did make those crooks in a nice way. Scissors are useful. I
do find much use for them. But the mamma likes not the uses I find
for the scissors. She does say I am a new sance. I guess a new sance
is something some grown-up people don’t like to have around at all.
I have wonders about things. I have sore feels in my heart and sore
feels on the back part of me. I so want to be helps to the mamma.
But it’s very hard. Why, to-day when I did run to meet her, I did
say, “It’s out.--It’s out.--I’ve got it out.” And she looked no glad
looks. She did only look looks about for a hazel bush. First one she
saw, she did take two limbs of it. All the way to the door she made
tingles on me with them. I do not think she does have knowing how
they feel--such queer sore feels. I feel she would not like their
feels.
When we were come to the door, she did tell me to stay outside. She
said I could n’t come into her house. But I did have knowing where I
could go. I went to talk with Good King Edward I and lovely Eleanor
of Castile. I did climb onto the lane fence and into the arms of
lovely Queen Eleanor. I do so like to be in her arms when things do
trouble me. She has understandings. From her arms I did go to hunt
for the soul of Peter Paul Rubens. Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil rode
in my left apron pocket and Nannerl Mozart rode in my right apron
pocket. She is a most shy mouse and does keep her nose hid. As we
did go along, I did gather gray leaves. Forty-two gray leaves I did
so gather.
Then we went on. We went on to the near woods. I had not findings
to-day for the soul of my dear Peter Paul Rubens, but I did tell the
wind that was walking in the woods to tell Peter Paul Rubens I was
come a-seeking for his soul. Then I did turn my face to the way that
does lead to the cathedral. On the way I met with Elizabeth Barrett
Browning and Brave Horatius and Isaiah. Together we did go to the
cathedral. We went unto the little tree that I have planted there
for rememberings of good John Milton, for this day is the day of
his borning in 1608. We did have prayers. It was so lonesome--Peter
Paul Rubens not being there to grunt Amen at in-between times. Brave
Horatius came near unto me when prayers were most done. He did put
his nose against my hand for a pat. I gave him two. One was for him
and one was for Peter Paul Rubens that was.
Then we all did go in the way that does lead to the singing creek
where the willows grow. When we were come, all that were with me did
stand very close by. They so did stand while I did drop the gray
leaves upon the water. All the forty-two leaves I did gather I did
drop upon the water, for this is the day of the going-away of Antoine
Van Dyck in 1641. And his years they were forty-two. When the leaves
were all upon the water I did say a little prayer, and we came home.
It was most dark-time and the lamp on the kitchen table did shine
its light out the window. And it came down the path to meet us.
* * * * *
There were pictures on the window-panes when I woke up this morning.
By-and-by the fire in the stove made the room warm, and the pictures
on the window-panes went away. I was sorry when they went away. I
so did like to look looks at them.
When I did have my breakfast, the mamma did send me to take a bucket
of something with eggs on top it to the ranch-house. The outdoors
did have coldness. It did make my fingers to have queer feels.
And my nose felt like I did n’t have any. Brave Horatius followed
after me as I did go along. As I did go along, I did see ice on the
mud-puddles. Every now and then I did stop to break the ice on the
mud-puddles. I broke the ice to see what was in the water. Under
the ice that was over the cow-tracks there was no water--only dirt,
cold and stiff, with little crystals on it.
When I was come to the ranch-house, the grandma did come to the door,
and she took the bucket of something with eggs on top it, that the
mamma did send to her. I started on to school. I did go as far as
the pump. I made a stop there. I was going to give its handle some
lift-ups and some pull-downs, so water would come out. I have likes
to see water come out of that pump. But to-day water won’t come out
of the pump. The pump-handle won’t go up and down. The grandpa said
it froze in the night. I think it has got the croup. I expect it
needs some coal-oil. I have thinks I must tend to that pump to-night.
All day here at school I now do study. For little bits of times I
do study my school-book. But most of the time I do study the books
Angel Father and Angel Mother did write in. I do study these most
every day at school. I do study the spell of the words. And after
times and before times I do sing the spelling of the words to the
gentle Jersey cow while I do ride her to pasture. And I sit in the
manger at evening-time and sing the spellings of these words to
William Shakespeare when he is come home from work in the woods.
I have thinks most of my animal friends do have knowings of the
spellings of these words. It so often is I do sing the spellings of
these words to them.
When I did come home from school to-night, I did make a stop at that
pump to see how much coal-oil it did need for its croup. But it had
no needs to be tended. The croup that it did have on this morning
was all gone. When I did give its handle some lift-ups and some
push-downs, water did come out. I watched it. It stopped coming out
when I did stop giving it lift-ups and push-downs. I went on. I saw
the black cat by the barn. On cold nights I have given that cat long
rubs on its back, and sparks have come. I did have thinks about
sparky things as I did come on home. Now I have knowings of these.
Cats are sparky--black ones on a cold night. Stoves are sparky on
cold days. Rocks are sparky--flint ones when you give them a thump.
The chore boy says some people are sparky. He does n’t know what he
is talking about.
When I was come into the house we live in, I gave the baby a gentle
thump. It squawked, but there were no sparks. Then the mamma came
in the back door. She had not knows why it squawked, but she did
tell me to mind it. I so did. The mamma went out again to the house
of Elsie. When she was gone, I did sing to the baby a new song I
did make up to-day. Most every day I do make up a song. I sing them
not when the mamma is in the house, for she does give me most hard
spankings when I do start to sing them. To-day I did teeter the baby
on the bed as she said. And more I did. I did sing to her the new
song. I did sing to her,--
“Maintenant est hiver,
Le ciel est gris,
Le champ est tranquille,
Les fleurs dorment,
Maintenant est hiver.”
Then she did kick many kicks in the air. I did tickle her toes. She
likes to have her toes tickled. She has likes for it. This baby has
likes for many things. She has likes to sit up on the bed. The mamma
has me to prop it up so it won’t fall over. And this baby--it has
likes to make bubbles with its mouth and to stick its foot in its
mouth. It does like to rattle all the rattles the grandma and Jenny
Strong and Elsie bring to it. It does have such likes to be rocked.
And most of the times when it is awake, it does want to be singed
to and carried about. It is a baby that has satisfaction looks on
its face for a little time when it gets what it wants. It only has
those satisfaction looks a little time. Soon it does have some more
wants, and it wants to have what it wants. The mamma does have me
to rock it and rock it and teeter it on the bed and walk the floor
with it. Sometimes it does get most heavy. Then I do let my knees
bend under and I do sit on the floor and rock it back and forth.
The mamma, she does have much likes for it to have what it wants.
* * * * *
I am joy all over. I have found in the near woods a plant that has
berries like the berries _symphorine_ has. And its leaves are like
the leaves symphorine has. I have had seeings of it before, and every
time I do meet with this new old plant, I do say, “I have happy
feels to see you, Symphorine.” And when the wind comes walking in
the near woods, the little leaves of symphorine do whisper little
whispers. I have thinks they are telling me they were come here
before I was come here. I make a stop to have more listens. They do
whisper, “See, petite Françoise, we were a long time come.” I can
see they were, too, because their toes have grown quite a ways down
in the ground.
To-day, as I did walk a walk to where they grow, I did tell them about
the day that it is. I told them all about this being the borning day
of Jeanne d’Albret, mère de Henri IV, in 1528. I told the year-numbers
on my fingers. I had thinks they might have remembers better if I
so told them on my fingers. I do have remembers of numbers better
when I do tell them on my fingers. Brave Horatius did stand by and
listen while I so told them. We went on.
I tied bits of bread on the tips of the branches of the trees. Too,
I tied on popcorn kernels. They looked like snow-flowers blooming
there on fir trees. I looked looks back at them. I have knows the
birds will be glad for them. Often I do bring them here for them.
When I do have hungry feels I feel the hungry feels the birds must
be having. So I do have comes to tie things on the trees for them.
Some have likes for different things. Little gray one of the black
cap has likes for suet. And other folks has likes for other things.
There is a little box in the woods that I do keep things for the
pheasants and grouses and squirrels and more little birds and
wood-mouses and wood-rats. In fall-time days Peter Paul Rubens did
come here with me when I did bring seeds and nuts to this box for
days of _hiver_. When we were come to the box, I did have more thinks
of him. I think the soul of Peter Paul Rubens is not afar. I think
it is in the forest. I go looking for it. I climb up in the trees.
I call and call. And then when I find it not, I do print a message
on a leaf, and I tie it onto the highest limb I can reach. And I
leave it there with a little prayer for Peter Paul Rubens. I do miss
him so.
To-day, after I so did leave a message on a leaf away up in a tree
for him, I did have going in along the lane and out across the
field and down the road beyond the meeting of the roads. There was
grayness everywhere--gray clouds in the sky and gray shadows above
and in the canyon. And all the voices that did speak--they were
gray tones. “Petite Françoise, c’est jour gris.” And all the little
lichens I did see along the way did seem a very part of all the
grayness. And Felix Mendelssohn in my apron pocket--he was a part
of the grayness, too. And as I did go adown the road, I did meet
with a gray horse--and his grayness was like the grayness of William
Shakespeare. Then I did turn about. I did turn my face to the near
woods where is William Shakespeare.
When Rob Ryder is n’t looking, I give to William Shakespeare pieces
of apple and I pull grass for him. He so likes a nice bit to eat
after he does pull a long pull on the logs. And while I do feed
him bits of apple and bits of grass, I do tell him poems. William
Shakespeare has likes for poems. And sometimes I do walk along by
him when he is pulling in logs and I do tell the poems to him while
he pulls. And I give his head rubs when he is tired, and his back
too. And on some Sundays when he is in the pasture I go there to
talk with him. He comes to meet me. William Shakespeare and I--we
are friends. His soul is very beautiful. The man that wears gray
neckties and is kind to mice says he is a dear old horse.
CHAPTER XII
_Of Elsie’s Brand-New Baby, and all the Things that Go with it; and
the Goodly Wisdom of the Angels who Bring Folks Babies that Are
like them._
Elsie has a brand-new baby and all the things that go with it. There’s
a pink _fleur_ on its baby brush and a pink bow on its cradle-quilt.
The angels brought the baby just last night in the night. I have been
to see it a goodly number of times--most everything I did start to
do, I went aside before I did get through doing it to take peeps at
the darling baby. I so did when I was sent to feed the chickens, and
when I went to carry in the wood, and when I went to visit Aphrodite,
and when I went to take eggs to the folks that live yonder, and when
I went to get some soap at the ranch-house, and when I went to take
a sugar-lump to William Shakespeare, and when I went to take food
to the folks in the hospital, and when I went to the ranch-house
to get the milk. And in the between times I did go in the way that
does lead to the house of Elsie.
The baby--it is a beautiful baby--though it does have much redness
of face from coming such a long way in the cold last night. Maybe
it was the coldness of the night that did cause the angels to make
the mistake. They stopped at the wrong house. I’m quite sure this
is the very baby I have been praying for the angels to bring to the
new young folks that do live by the mill by the far woods. Dear
Love, her young husband does call her. And they are so happy. But
they have been married seven whole months and have n’t got a baby
yet. Twice every day for a time long I have been praying prayers
for the angels to bring them one real soon. And most all day to-day
I did feel I better tell Elsie as how this baby is n’t her baby,
before she does get too fond of it. She so likes to cuddle it now.
Both morning and afternoon I did put off going to tell her about
it. I did wait most until eventime. Then I could n’t keep still any
longer. I felt I would just have to speak to her about it at once.
I did have knowings that Mrs. Limberger, that was staying with Elsie
until the other woman was come back, would n’t let me come in the
door to see the baby again because she has opinions that nineteen
times is fully enough to be a-coming to see a baby on the first day
of its life on earth. So I went and got a wood-box off the back
porch, and I did go around to the bedroom window. I did get on top
the wood-box and I made tappings on the window-pane. Elsie did have
hearings. She did turn her head on the pillow. And she gave nods for
me to come in. I pushed the window a push enough so I could squeeze
in. Then I sidled over to the bed.
Elsie did look so happy with the baby. I did swallow a lump in
my throat. She looked kind smiles at me. I did not like to bring
disturbs to her calm. I just stood there making pleats in my blue
calico apron. I did have thinks of Dear Love and the house without
a baby by the mill by the far woods. Then I felt I could n’t wait
any longer. I just said, “I know you are going to have a disappoint,
Elsie, but I have got to tell you--this baby is n’t yours. It’s a
mistake. It really belongs to Dear Love in that most new, most little
house by the mill by the far woods. It’s the one I’ve been praying
the Angels to bring to her.”
Just when I was all out of breath from telling her, there did come
the heavy step of Mrs. Limberger’s approaches. Elsie did say in a
gentle way, “Come to me early in the morning and we will talk the
matter over.” Then I did go out the window.
From the house of Elsie I did go to talk with Michael Angelo Sanzio
Raphael. He does so understand. All troubles that do trouble me, I
do talk them over with him. While I was telling him all about how
the angels did make a mistake and did bring Dear Love’s baby to the
house of Elsie, I did hear a little voice. It was a baby voice. It
did come from the barn. I went in to see. It was n’t in the haystack.
It seemed to come from a way below. I slid down to the manger of
the gentle Jersey cow. I thought she was in the pasture, but there
she was in the barn. And with her was a dear new baby calf. When I
did ask the ranch folks when it was brought, they did say it was
brought in the night last night. I have thinks the same angel that
did bring the new baby to the house of Elsie did bring also in her
other arm that baby calf to the gentle Jersey cow. To-night I will
pick it out a name from the books Angel Mother and Angel Father
did write in. Early in the morning I will go again to the house of
Elsie.
* * * * *
Early on the morning of to-day I did go in the way that does lead
to the house of Elsie. I did rap gentle raps on the door, and the
young husband of Elsie did come to raise the latch. When the door
did come open, I did have seeing that his black pumpadoor did seem
to shine more than most times, and all the vaseline was gone from
the jar that sets on the kitchen shelf. I did tell him how Elsie did
say for me to come early in this morning. And before he did have
time for answers, Elsie did have hearing in the other room. She did
call. She did call me to come in.
In I went. The baby it was beside her. It was all wrapped in a blanket
so it could n’t even have seeings out the window how the raindrops
was coming down so fast. The young husband of Elsie did look fond
looks at that blanket. I did begin to have fears he did have thinks
it was his baby. Elsie did unwrap the blanket from its red face.
It’s just as red as it was yesterday, though the rain coming makes
the weather more warm. Elsie did say, “See its long hair.” And I
did have seeing. It was n’t long though, not more than an inch. It
was most black. And its eyes--they were dark. It did have prefers to
keep them shut. When I did see them, Elsie did say, “Now about what
we were talking about yesterday--next time you go to the house of
Dear Love, have seeing of the color of her eyes and hair and also
of her husband’s. I hardly think this baby’s hair and eyes are like
theirs. And maybe it is where it does belong.” “I feel sure about
that,” said her young husband. But I had not feels so.
Just then the mamma did holler for me to come home to bring wood
in. I so come. Now she does have me mind the baby. I do print.
When sleeps was come upon the mamma’s baby, I straightway did go in
a hurry to the house of Dear Love by the mill by the far woods. All
the way along the raindrops were coming in a hurry down. Many of
them did say, “Petite Françoise too. I wonder, I wonder.” When I was
come to the house of Dear Love, she was there and he was there. Her
eyes were light blue, and her hair, it was very light. Most cream
hair she has got. And her husband that does call her Dear Love--his
eyes they are blue, and he has red hair. I saw. And I was going
right back because I did feel sad feels. Dear Love, she did lead me
back into her house and did have me to sit on a chair. I sat on its
corner. And I felt lumps come up in my throat. She did take off my
fascinator, and she did take off my shoes so my feet would get dry.
Then she did take me on her lap and she did ask me what was the
matter. And I just did tell her all about it--all about how I had
been praying for the angels to bring a baby real soon to them--and
how sad feels I did feel because they did n’t have a baby yet. Her
husband did smile a quiet smile at her, and roses did come on her
cheeks. And I did have thinks that they did have thinks that this
baby the angels did bring to the house of Elsie was their baby. Then
I did give them careful explanations as how I too did have thinks it
was their baby the angels did bring to the house of Elsie, that I
did pray for them to have real soon. And as how I did have thinks so
yesterday and last night and right up until now, when I did come to
their house and have seeings of their blue eyes and his having red
hair. I did tell them as how this baby could n’t be theirs, because
it has most dark hair and dark eyes--like the eyes and the hair of
the young husband of Elsie.
Angels do have a big amount of goodly wisdom. They do bring to folks
babies that are like them. To mother sheeps they do bring lambs. To
mother horse they do bring a poulain. To mother bats they bring twin
bats. To a mother mouse they do bring a baby mulot and some more like
it--all at the same time. To mère daine they do bring a baby faon.
To the gentle Jersey cow they did bring a baby calf, with creamness
and brownness upon it like the creamness and brownness that is upon
the gentle Jersey cow. Angels do have a goodly amount of wisdom.
They do bring to folks babies that do match them. And after I did
tell them that, I did have telling them as how, being as this baby
did n’t have eyes and hair to match theirs, it could n’t be their
baby. But I did tell them not to have disappoints too bad, because
I am going to pray on--and maybe she will get a baby next week.
When I did say that, her young husband did walk over to the window
and look long looks out. I have thinks he was having wonders if two
or three angels would be coming with the angel that will be bringing
their baby, and if the cradle-quilt they bring with it will have a
blue bow or a pink bow on it and if its baby brush will have blue
fleurs or pink fleurs on it. I have wonders. I think blue fleurs on
its baby brush and a blue bow on its cradle-quilt will look nicer
with red hair than pink fleurs and a pink bow. I have thinks I better
put that in my prayers.
By-and-by, when my feets were dry, they did put my shoes on and they
laced them up. They did n’t miss a string-hole like I do sometimes
when I am in a hurry to get them tied up. Then, when they did have
them tied up, they did want me to stay to dinner; but I did have
feels I must hurry back to the house of Elsie and tell her that the
baby was hers. She might be having anxious feels about it. When
I did say good-bye they did give me two apples--one for William
Shakespeare and one for Elizabeth Barrett Browning. And they did
give me some cheese for Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus and corn for
Lars Porsena of Clusium. And they came a long way with me.
Then I did go on in hurry steps to the house of Elsie. As quick as
her young husband did open the door, I did walk right in, for I did
have thinks maybe she did have some very anxious feels while I was
gone. She smiled glad smiles when I told her it was hers. It must
have been an immense amount of relief--her now knowing it really was
her own baby. And when I did turn around to tell her young husband it
was theirs, her young husband, he just said, “I knew it was mine.”
And he looked more fond looks at the blanket it was wrapped in. I
have feels now it is nice for them to have it; and it is good that
they will not have needs to give it up--being as it matches them.
Angels do have a goodly amount of wisdom. This is a wonderful world
to live in.
When I did say good-bye to Elsie and the charmante baby, I did go
to the barn where is the gentle Jersey cow and the baby calf that
does match her. That baby calf I have named Mathilde Plantagenet.
I have named her so for Mathilde that was daughter of Roi Henri I
and Mathilde that was daughter of Sainte Marguerite that was reine
d’Écosse. Mathilde Plantagenet is her name because the name of the
man Mathilde did marry, it was Geoffroi Plantagenet. And too in days
of summer the _gênet fleur_ grows near unto here. I have had seeings
of them by waters that flow by the mill town. And when their bloom
time is come, I will make for Mathilde Plantagenet a guirlande of
_les fleurs de gênet_. And we will go walking down the lane.
CHAPTER XIII
_How Felix Mendelssohn and Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil Go for a Ride;
William Shakespeare Suffers One Whipping and Opal Another._
On the way home from school to-night I did meet with Sadie McKibben,
and it was very nice to see her freckles. And she wore her blue
gingham apron with cross stitches on it. First when we were met she
did kiss me on each cheek. Then she was going to shake hands with
me, but I could not shake hands with her with my right hand because
Louis II, le Grand Condé, was asleep in my sleeve. I had fears
shaking hands with my right hand would disturb his calm. So I gave
explanations. And Sadie McKibben did have understanding. She gave me
a kiss on my nose and smoothed back my curls and shook hands with
my left hand.
When she so did, Felix Mendelssohn did poke his nose out the cuff.
He made a quick run up my arm and settled down on my shoulder. He
is a very quick-moving mouse. Sadie McKibben did see the movement
his moving did make on my sleeve. She asked me if that was all my
friends I did take to school to-day. Then I lifted up my apron and
I did show her Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil. He was riding in a pocket
in my underskirt. She did have wantings to know why it was that I
was not carrying him in my apron pocket as I use to do. I told her
I did not so now, for teacher does feel of my apron pockets when
I do come into school in the morning; so I carry my friends in my
sleeves and in pockets in my underskirt.
Sadie McKibben did have understanding. And she did say she thought
she would have to be getting me a little basket to carry them in.
She said she was going to speak to the man that wears gray neckties
and is kind to mice about the matter. I have thinks to be carried
in a warm basket will please the souls of Louis II, le Grand Condé,
and Felix Mendelssohn and Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil and all the
little folk that do go walking with me. It will be almost as nice
as to ride in the pockets of the papa’s big coat. I have thinks I
will have needs to put pockets in that basket and divides so there
in it will be little rooms, little rooms for all the folks of the
nursery. I will let them have their turns riding to school in the
basket. And there is enough room in my seat so that basket can set
right beside me. I can hardly wait waits until I do have that basket.
When Sadie McKibben did kiss me good-bye, she gave me a sugar-lump
for William Shakespeare and a piece of cheese for Thomas Chatterton
Jupiter Zeus and a bone for Brave Horatius and ten corn-seeds for
Lars Porsena of Clusium. She does have knowings of the likings of
my friends. Then she went her way, and I did come my way home to
the house we live in.
When I was come, first I did feed the chickens. And then I did go
to carry in the wood. It was while I was carrying in wood that Rob
Ryder came to borrow a hammer. I have n’t been near unto where he
has been since I did bite his hand the other day. And to-day the
mamma tried to make me say to that Rob Ryder how sorry I was because
I bit him on the hand. But I was n’t a bit sorry. And I would n’t
say I was sorry. And if I got a chance I’d bite him again for his
laying that big whip to the back of William Shakespeare when he does
n’t pull logs fast enough. I know my William Shakespeare and I know
how hard he pulls to pull those logs. To pull those logs he does
his very best.
And when he was gone away the mamma did spank me most hard with the
hair-brush. Then she put me out the door. And I did go from the house
we do live in to where do dwell King Edward III and Queen Philippa of
Hainault. They are grand trees. We are friends. Often it is I go to
where they dwell when the mamma does put me out of the house. To-day
I did stay long with them and I did talk long with them. Mostly it
was about the lovely England when they were there, we did have talks
about to-day. And the wind was talking too. I think the wind does
have knowing of this being their wedding day in 1328. As he did come
near unto where they dwell, he did walk among the willows by the
singing creek. And I did climb down from the arms of Queen Philippa
of Hainault and go to gather water-cress for the mamma. She does
have such a fondness for it.
Then I did say good-bye, and I did say good-bye to all those twelve
trees growing near unto them. And all those twelve trees that do
grow near unto King Edward III and Queen Philippa of Hainault--those
twelve trees are their twelve children. The tree most near unto
Edward III, that is Edward Prince of Wales; and the one next unto
him is Lionel Duke of Clarence; and the one most near unto him,
that is John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. The time was when there
were only ten trees growing there, and I did have needs to plant
two more. Two little ones I did plant, and one is for baby Blanche
and one is for baby William, the other one.
CHAPTER XIV
_How Opal Feels Satisfaction Feels, and Takes a Ride on William
Shakespeare; and all that Came of it._
After I did dish-towel all the dishes that we did use in the breakfast
meal, the mamma did send me to get barks for the warming stove. While
I was getting barks I did stop to screwtineyes the plump wiggles
that were in and under all the barks. Those plump wiggles will grow
and change. They will grow and change into beetles. I have seen them
do so. I have taken them from the bark and they did so grow into
beetles--after some long time. In the nursery I kept them while they
did so change.
After the barks was in I did go my way to school. I went aside to
Saint Firmin by Nonette. I made a stop where the willows grow. I
love to touch fingers with the willows. Then I do feel the feels
the willows feel. I did tell them all and every one about this
being the going-away day of Charlemagne in 814 and the borning day
of Henry VII in 1457. Each pussy-willow baby did wear a gray silk
tricot. He did look warm. He smiled, “Bonjour, petite Françoise,”
in a friendly way. I think he does remember the days in summer when
I did drink in inspirations dabbling my toes by his toes there in
the singing brook.
When I did have talks with them for a little time, I did go on.
And all along I stopped very often on the way to talk to the other
pussy-willows. I was quite late to school. Teacher made me stand in
the corner to get my lesson with my face to the wall. I did n’t mind
that at all. There was a window in that part of the wall. It was
near the corner. I looked looks at my book sometimes. Most of the
times I looked looks out the window. I had seeing of little plant
folks just peeping out of the earth to see what they could see. I
did have thinks it would be nice to be one of them, and then grow up
and have a flower and bees a-coming and seed-children at fall-time.
I have thinks this is a very interest world to live in. There is so
much to see out the window when teacher does have one to stand in
the corner to study one’s lesson.
When teacher did send me to my seat to get my slate for arithmetic,
I did put Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil in my desk by my Cyr’s Reader. I
keep my books in one little corner of my desk, and that does leave a
lot of room for my animal friends. There was room enough for Lucian
Horace Ovid Virgil to take little nice hops. But while I was having
recites with arithmetic, he hopped a little hop too far and he fell
out of my desk. I had quivers, and it was hard to pay attentions
to arithmetic. When our lessons were done I made a quick go to my
seat. I looked a look under for him. He was not there. I looked
more looks about. He was rows away over by the seat-row where Lola
has her sitting. I did almost sit sideways in my seat, I had such
anxious feels about him.
Lola had seeing. She made a reach over. She picked him up in a
gentle way. She put him in her apron pocket. She made a begin to
study her geography. She asked teacher if she might get a drink from
the dipper in the wrap-room. She went. She made a come-back from
the wrap-room down our row, going to her geography class. When she
went by my desk, she put her hand in my pocket. She went on to the
recite bench. Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil was back again in my apron
pocket. I felt an immense amount of satisfaction feels.
* * * * *
Some days there is cream to be shaked into butter. The mamma does
have me to make a handle go up and down a lot of times in the churn.
This makes the butter come. When there is only a little cream to be
shaked into butter, then the mamma has me to shake it to and fro in
a glass jar. Sometimes it gets awfully heavy and my arms do get ache
feels up and down. There are most ache feels when the butter is a
long time in coming. It so was to-day. I gave it many shakes, and I
was having hopes it soon would be come. After some long time, when
it was most come, the lid came off and it all shaked out. Then the
mamma did have cross feels and the spanks she gave made me to have
sore feels on the back part of me. I was making tries to be helps
to her. That butter was almost come.
After I did give the floor washes and mops up where the splashes
of buttermilk did jump, then the mamma put me out the door and told
me to get out and stay out of her way. I so did. I went out across
the field and in along the lane. Lars Porsena of Clusium had going
with me. I looked looks away to the meeting of the roads. There was
a horse come near unto it. A man was riding on this horse. I like to
ride upon a horse. I like to stand up when I ride upon a horse. It
is so much joy. I feel the feels the horse does feel when he puts
each foot to the ground.
When I did see that horse go on and on, then I did have feels it
would be nice to go a long way on explores. I did have thinks William
Shakespeare had wants to go. He was in the lane. I gave him pats on
the nose and I talked with him about it. We did start on. When we
were come to the end of the lane there was the gate. It did take some
long time to get it open. The plug did stick so tight and more yet.
I did pull and I made more pulls. It came out. It did come out in a
quick way. I did have a quick set-down. I got up in a slow way. I
did show William Shakespeare the way to go out the gate. He went, I
went. We went adown the road. A little way we went and we were come
to a stump. I made a climb upon it. From the stump I did climb upon
the back of William Shakespeare.
We went on. When we were come to the meeting of the roads, we went
the way of the road that goes to the upper camps. We made no stops
until we were come to where a long time ago the road had a longing
to go across the rivière, and some men that had understanding made
it a bridge to go across on. When we were come to the bridge, we
made a stop and I did sing to the rivière a song. I sang it _Le
chant de Seine, de Havre, et Essonne et Nonette et Roullon et Iton
et Darnetal et Ourcq et Rille et Loing et Eure et Audelle et Nonette
et Sarc_. I sang it as Angel Father did teach me to, and as he has
wrote it in the book.
And after I did sing it all, we did watch the water splash itself
against the legs of the bridge. The water goes not now slow as it did
in summer days. We went on. And the boards of the bridge did make
squeaks as we went across. And they said in their squeaks, “Petite
Françoise, we have been waiting a long time for you to go across the
rivière.” And I did have William Shakespeare to make a little stop
so I could tell the boards I have been waiting waits a long time to
go across. While I so was doing, they did not squeak. When we made
a start to go on, they did squeak.
[Photograph: “AFTER WE WERE ACROSS THE RIVIÈRE WE WENT IN A MORE
SLOW WAY”]
After we were across the rivière we went in a more slow way. There
was so many things to see. Trees and trees were all along the way.
There were more ranch-houses. I did have seeing of them set always
back from the road, and smoke did come in curls from out their
chimneys. At a bend in the road there was a big _chêne_ tree--it
was a very big one. On its arms there was bunches of mistletoe. I
made a stop to have looks at them. I had thinks I might reach up to
them. I stood on tiptoe on the back of William Shakespeare. I could
reach a reach to one limb. I put my arms around it and had a swing.
It was very nice to swing one forward and two back again.
But when I was ready to stand on William Shakespeare again, he was
not there. I looked a look down and about. He was gone on a little
way. I had wonders what to do. There was most too many rocks to drop
down on. Lars Porsena came and perched on the limb above. I did
call William Shakespeare four times, and in between I called him by
the bird-call that does mean I have needs of him. He did come and
he made a stop under the limb. I was most glad. My arms did have a
queer feel from hanging there. I was real glad just to sit quiet
on the back of William Shakespeare while he did walk on. And Lars
Porsena of Clusium did sit behind me.
We went on. We had seeing of the section men working on the railroad
track where the dinky engine goes with the cars of lumbers to the
mill town. They were making stoop-overs. I had seeing they did
screwtineyes the rails and the ties they stay upon. The men did wave
their hands to us, and I did wave back, and on the fence there was
a bird with a yellow and a little black moon across his front. His
back--it was like the grasses of the field grown old. And his song
is the song of all the voices of the field. We have seeing of him
and his brothers all days of the year.
After we had going past the next turn in the road I did look a
look back. A little bush with some tallness was yet a-nodding. It
was asking a question. I gave William Shakespeare two pats on the
shoulder. That means turn about. He did. When we were come to the
bush a-nodding, I leaned over to the tallness of it. I put my ear
close so I could have hearing. It had wants to know what day this
was. I did tell it this day was the going-away day of John of Gaunt
and the borning day of Felix Mendelssohn in 1809. It had hearings,
but it did not stop nodding. But it was asking no questions. It was
nodding nods of the day this is. I felt the satisfaction feels it
did feel when it did know the answer to its question. I do too have
likes to ask questions about things so to have knows.
We went on in a slow way. I did look looks about. And there were
birds--robins and two bluebirds and more larks of the meadow and
other crows like unto Lars Porsena of Clusium. When we was come to
another bend in the road, William Shakespeare made a stop. I made
a slide off. I went to pick him some grass. A wagon went by. Two
horses were in front of it, and on its high seat was a man with his
hat on sideways and a woman with a big fascinator most hiding her
face. There was seven children in the wagon--two with sleeps upon
them and a little girl with a tam-o’-shanter and a frown and a cape
on her. I have thinks from the looks on their faces they all did
have wants to get soon to where they were going to. I brought the
grass back to the road to William Shakespeare. I smiled a smile and
waved to the last little girl of all on the wagon. She smiled and
waved her hand. Then three more of them waved. I waved some more.
The wagon had its going on, and William Shakespeare had begins to
nibble at the grass I was holding in my fingers. While he did nibble
nibbles I did tell him poems. William Shakespeare does have such a
fondness for poetry and nibbles of grass and apples and sugar-lumps.
While we did have waiting at the bend of the road, I saw a maple tree
with begins of buds upon it. I did walk up to the tree. I put my ear
to it to have listens to the sap going up. It is a sound I like to
hear. There is so much of springtime in it. While I did listen, in
the other ear that was not to the maple tree I did have hearings of
the talkings of the wind and _petite_ plants just having begins to
grow out of the earth. The wind did say, “Je viens--je viens.” The
plants did answer make, “Nous entendons--nous entendons.” So they
did speak. Then the wind did say, “Le printemps viendra bientôt.”
And the plants did answer make, “Nous fleurirons bientôt.”
I did have glad feels. William Shakespeare moved a little move. I had
some doubts if he did hear all plainly they did say, so I went up to
his nose and said it all over to him. He had understanding. We went
on. When we were come again to a stump, I did climb again upon his
back. We went by a big mill with piles of lumber to its near side,
and a long wide roof it had. There was a row of lumber-shanties and
some more. There was children about and dogs. They did smile and
wave and I did too. We went on. More fir trees of great tallness was
on either side the road. They did stretch out their great arms to
welcome to us. I so do love trees. I have thinks I was once a tree
growing in the forest; now all trees are my brothers.
When we were gone a little way on from the very tall trees, in the
sky the light of day was going from blue to silver. And thoughts
had coming down the road to meet us. They were thoughts from out
the mountains where are the mines. They were thoughts from the
canyons that come down to meet the road by the rivière. I did feel
their coming close about us. Very near they were and all about. We
went on a little way only. We went very slow. We had listens to the
thoughts. They were thoughts of blooming-time and coming-time. They
were the soul thoughts of little things that soon will have their
borning-time.
When we did go on we did hear little sounds coming from a long way
down the road. They were like the shoe on the foot of a horse making
touches on the road in a hurry way. The sound, it came more near. We
made a stop to have a listen. It was coming more near gray-light-time
and we could not have plain sees until the horse was come more near
a way down the road. Then we had sees a man was riding on the horse.
They came on in the quick way that made the little fast patter sounds
on the ground. When he was most come to where we were, the man did
have the horse to go in a more slow way. When he was come to where
we were he did have the horse to stop. The man upon the horse was
the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice. He did seem
most glad that we were on the road he was on. He did breathe some
satisfaction breathes just like Sadie McKibben does when she finds
I have n’t broken my bones when I fall out of a tree. Then he made
begins. He said, “The fairies--” And I said, “What?” He said, “The
fairies have left a note on a leaf in the moss-box by the old log. It
was a note for me to go until I find you and William Shakespeare--to
bring you home again before starlight-time.”
There was a little fern-plant with the note on the leaf. He gave
them to me. And we came our way home. Now I have thinks it was God
in his goodness did send the fairies to leave that fern-note on the
leaf. And William Shakespeare and I were glad he was come to meet
us, for the stars were not and dark was before we were come home.
But the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice, he did
have knows of the way of the road by night.
CHAPTER XV
_Of Jenny Strong’s Visit, its Gladness and its Sadness._
Jenny Strong is come to visit us. She came in the morning of to-day.
She came on the logging train. She brought her bags with her. The
mamma did send me to meet her at the meeting of the roads. The bags,
they were heavy to carry, and my arms got some tired. As we did go
along, in-between times I did look looks at Jenny Strong. There is
so much of interest about her. The gray curls about her face did
have the proper look she wants them to have. To get that proper
look she does them up on curl-papers. I have seen her so do when
she was come to visit us before. And this morning her plump cheeks
were roses. And all her plumpness did most fill the gray dresses
she was wearing. Jenny Strong has little ruffles around the neck
of that dress, like the little ruffles that was around the neck of
the man with the glove when Titian made his picture. Those ruffles
on the neck of the gray dress of Jenny Strong did look like it was
their joy to cuddle up against the back of her black bonnet.
That black bonnet has a pink rosebud on it, and every time that Jenny
Strong does give her head a nod, that pink rosebud does give itself
a nod. It must be interest to be a pink rosebud on a black bonnet
that Jenny Strong wears. When we were come to the gate Jenny Strong
did hold her cape and her gray dress up in a careful way. She had
blue stockings on, and they was fastened up with pink ribbons. She
went on while I did shut the gate. I did come after. I could not
come after in a quick way because the bags was heavy. Pretty soon
Jenny Strong did have seeing I was not there beside her, and she did
wait waits for me a little while, and I did come to where she was.
We went on. The way was dampness near the singing creek and Jenny
Strong did take dainty steps as we did go along. Lars Porsena of
Clusium did come to meet us. And so came Brave Horatius. And Lars
Porsena of Clusium did perch upon his back. We went on. The pink
rosebud on the black bonnet of Jenny Strong did nod itself twelve
times as we did go along. When we were come near unto the house,
there was a rooster by our front door. He was strutting along. He
was that same rooster that I tied a slice of bacon around his neck
this morning because he had queer actions in the throat. When Jenny
Strong saw him strutting along with the bacon wrapped around his
throat, she did turn her head to the side with a delicate cough.
After Jenny Strong took off her cape and her black bonnet with the
pink rosebud on it, I did pull the best rocking-chair out in the
middle of the room for her. She sat down in it and she did start to
have talks with the mamma. I did go to teeter the baby on the bed
as the mamma did say for me to do. Jenny Strong did rock big rocks
in that rocking-chair while she did talk. One time she did almost
rock over. She breathed a big breath. Then, that she might not rock
over again, I did put a stick of wood under the rocker. That helped
some. But, too, it did keep her from rocking. She went on talking.
I went back to the bed to teeter the baby. While I did teeter the
baby I did look looks out the window. In a bush that I do tie pieces
of suet to, there was a little gray bird with a black cap and his
throat it was black. He was a fluffy ball and he almost did turn
himself upside-down on that branch. Then he went a go-away. Only a
little way he went. Then he was with more like himself. They went
on together.
By and by the mamma’s baby did go to sleep, and I climbed off the
bed and made a start to go to the nursery. Jenny Strong did ask me
where I was going. I did tell her. She said she thought she would
like to go with me. We did go out the door. Then I ran a quick run
back to get her black bonnet with the pink rosebud on it. I brought
it to her. She said, being as I did bring it to her, she would wear
it, but she had not in tent chuns to when we started. She had forgot
it. But I did n’t have forgets. I do so like to see that pink rosebud
nod itself.
We went on. We went a little way down the path. Then I did go aside.
Jenny Strong did follow after me. She came over the little logs in
a slow way. I did make stops to help her. The pink rosebud on the
black bonnet did nod itself fifteen times on the way. I did count
its times. When we were come to the nursery, first I did show her
the many baby seeds I did gather by the wayside in the falltime. I
did tell her how I was going to plant them when come springtime.
She did nod her head. Every time she so did, the pink rosebud on
the black bonnet did nod itself.
After I told her most all about the seeds, I did show her the silk
bags with spider eggs in them. Then I did show her all the cradles
the velvety caterpillars did make at falltime. I did give her
explainings how butterflies and moths would be a-coming out of the
cradles when springtime was come. She looked concentration looks at
them. She gave her head some more nods and the pink rosebud on the
black bonnet gave itself some more nods. I moved on to where the
wood-mouse folks are. I was just going to show her what a nice nose
and little hands Nannerl Mozart has, and what a velvety mouse Felix
Mendelssohn is. When I did turn about to so do, there was Jenny
Strong going in funny little hops over the logs. She was going in
a hurry way to the house.
I did have a wonder why was it she so went. I gave Felix Mendelssohn
more pats and I put him in my apron pocket. And Nannerl Mozart did
curl up in the bed I have fixed for her in the nursery. Then I did
sing a lullaby song to all the wood-mice in the nursery. And they
are a goodly number. I did sing to them the song La Nonette sings
as it goes on its way to Oise.
Then I did go through the near woods to the mill by the far woods.
I so did go to see the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to
mice. When he had seeing that I was come by the big tree, he did say
in his gentle way, “What is it, little one? Is Thomas Chatterton
Jupiter Zeus not well?” “Oh, yes,” I said, “he is most well and
he did have likes for that piece of cheese you did give to him on
yesterday. He is a most lovely wood-rat, and what I have come to
tell you about is, we got company. She has a fondness for pinkness.
Her name is Jenny Strong. And she has a pink rosebud on her black
bonnet and ties her blue stockings up with pink ribbons.”
And then I did ask him if he did not have thinks a pink ribbon would
be nice for Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus to wear on some days--on
days when he goes to cathedral service with me. And, too, I did tell
him how I did have thinks a pink ribbon would be nice for William
Shakespeare and Felix Mendelssohn and Lars Porsena of Clusium and
Brave Horatius.
The man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice did have thinks
like my thinks. He did say for me to go write the fairies about it.
And I did. I did write it on a gray leaf. I put the gray leaf in a
moss-box at the end of an old log near unto the altar of Saint Louis.
The man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice knows about
that moss-box where I do put letters for the fairies. He believes in
fairies, too. And we talk about them. He does ask me what I write
to them about and what things I have needs for them to bring. I do
tell him, and when the fairies do leave the things at the end of the
old log, I do take and show them to the man that wears gray neckties
and is kind to mice. He is so glad. He does believe in fairies, too.
As I did come back through the near woods, I did stop by some grand
fir trees to pray. When one does look looks up at the grand trees
growing up almost to the sky, one does always have longings to pray.
When I did come on, I did hear the mamma calling. When I was come
to the door, she made me go stand in the corner of the wood-shed.
Soon she came out. She did shut the door tight behind her. Then she
did ask me what for was it I gave Jenny Strong such a scare, and
she did spank me most hard. Now I have sore feels and I have thinks
it would be nice to have a cushion to sit on. And I do have wonders
what it was Jenny Strong got scares about. I think grown-ups are
queer sometimes.
When I did go into the house, all the scares was gone off Jenny
Strong. The mamma soon did make me to go under the bed. Here I print.
Jenny Strong sits by the fire. She does sit in a rocking-chair with
her feet propped up on a soap-box. She hums as she sits. She crochets
as she hums. She does make lace in a quick way.
Now Jenny Strong and the mamma is gone to the house of Elsie to see
the new baby. When she did go, the mamma did tell me to put the baby
to sleep. I so did. I did sing it to sleep in the rocking-chair. I
did sing it the _Rivière_ and _Fleuve_ song: “A is for Adour, Avre,
Ain, Aube, Arroux, and Allier.” When I did get to “D is for Douze
and Dordogne and Durance,” the baby did move its arm. When I did get
to “G is for Garonne and Gers and Gard,” the baby did open its eyes.
When I did get to “I is for Indre, and Isère and Iraouaddy,” it did
close its eyes. I did sing on. And sleeps did come upon the baby.
We had lots on the table to eat to-night, because Jenny Strong is
come. And most everything I did get to eat I did make divides of it
for my animal friends. They will all have a good share. And they will
be glad. There is enough for all to have a good amount to eat, which
often is n’t. I did feel a goodly amount of satisfaction sitting
there at the supper-table to-night for a little time. I was thinking
how glad the mice will be for the corn I have saved for them; and
too Brave Horatius will have good feels in his mouth when he sees
that big bone. And the birds will like all the scraps that are on
the plate of Jenny Strong if I can get them before the mamma gives
them to that big gray cat.
I have seeings that the folks, they are almost through eating. I
now am not at the table. I was only there for a very little while. I
now am under the bed. The mamma did send me away from the table--it
seems a long time ago. She did send me away from the table because
when Jenny Strong asked me if I liked her dress, I said, “Yes, and
the ruffles around your neck are like the ruffles around the neck of
the man with the glove, when Titian made his picture.” Jenny Strong
looked a queer look and she said to the mamma, “What a naughty child!”
The mamma did straightway tell me to crawl under the bed and to stay
there. I so am. I have feels Jenny Strong has not had seeing of the
picture of the man with the glove that Titian did make. I thought
it was nice to tell her her ruffles were like his. They did look
so nice.
I have wonders about folks. They are hard to understand. I think I
will just say a little prayer. My, I do have such hungry feels now.
They at the table are not through yet. I make swallows down my throat.
It is most hard not to eat what I have saved for my animal friends.
But they will like it--so I can wait waits until breakfast-time. I
can. In-between times I will have thinks and prayers.
CHAPTER XVI
_Of the Woods on a Lonesome Day, and the Friendliness of the
Wood-Folks on December Days when you Put your Ears Close and Listen._
This day--it was a lonely day. I did have longings all its hours for
Angel Mother and Angel Father. In-between times all day at school
I did print messages for them on gray leaves I did gather on the
way to school. I did tell on the leaves the longings I was having.
Too, on the leaves I did tell of William Shakespeare and our talks
as we do go walking down the lane, and the poetry I do tell him in
the manger. And I did print on more leaves how I do read out of the
books they did make--how I do sit in the manger and read what is in
them, and he does have understandings. And on other leaves I did
tell them as how the nose of Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus that was
soreness has now well feels with prayers and mentholatum that Sadie
McKibben did give, and as how the head-ache of the most big rooster
has now well feels with camphoratum and vaselineatum; and as how the
stomach-ache of Aphrodite did get well feels with caster oilatum
that Sadie McKibben did give. And after, I did tell of how on many
days in gray-light-time I have had going on searches for the kisses
of Angel Father, what he did tell me to keep watches for in the
fleurs while he was away gone to the far lands. And on more leaves
I did tell them as how Peter Paul Rubens that was is not now, and
how I do carry about with me the little bell he always did wear in
the cathedral.
And when these leaves were so done, I did not go on for a time
little. For a little time I did have thinks. And the thinks I did
have--they were about the glad song. The glad song in my heart sings
not bright to-day. It is lonesome feels I have. But I do try to have
thinks as how I can bring happiness to folks about. That is such a
help when lonesome feels do come. Angel Mother did say, “Make earth
glad, little one--that is the way to keep the fire-tongue of the glad
song ever in your heart. It must not go out.” I so do try to keep
it there. I so do try, for it is helps on cold days and old days.
And I did have remembers as how it was Angel Mother did say, “When
one keeps the glad song singing in one’s heart then do the hearts
of others sing.”
So I did make hard swallows to swallow all the lonesome feels, and I
did have thinks as how I would stop to get water-cress for the mamma
on the way home from school. She does have such a fondness for it.
And too she does have longings for singing lessons. I am saving my
pennies to buy her one. All the pennies that the man that wears gray
neckties and is kind to mice does give to me I save. I put them in
the corner of the wood-shed where Brave Horatius sleeps at night.
I think I have most enough pennies to buy her a singing lesson now.
I have nineteen pennies. And when I grow up I am going to buy her
a whole rain-barrel full of singing lessons.
And then I did have thinks as how to-morrow I will be taking Elizabeth
Barrett Browning to visit the girl who has no seeing. They do both
have likings for one another. The girl who has no seeing has an
understanding soul. All my friends do have appreciations of the pats
she does give to them and the words she does say. And sometimes a
goodly number of them do have goings to her house with me. That is
when her folks are not at home. Then does Elizabeth Barrett Browning
walk right by my side up to the door. And Thomas Chatterton Jupiter
Zeus cuddles up in my arms, and in my pockets do ride other folks--and
Brave Horatius follows after.
When we are come, she does smooth back my curls and give me a kiss.
She says when we are come, “Here is come the kingdom of heaven.”
I have feels she has mistakes about that, because the kingdom of
heaven, being up in the sky, is there beyond the stars. And when we
are come, she does have asking about the voices. And I do help her
to get understandings of the thoughts growing with the fleurs and
the trees and the leaves. And I do tell her as how those are God’s
thoughts growing right up out of the earth. And she wants to know
more. Always she does ask for more. To-morrow we will go--Elizabeth
Barrett Browning and me--we will go the way that does lead to the
house of the girl that has no seeing.
To-day, after I did have thinks about it in school, I did print more
messages on leaves for Angel Father and Angel Mother. I did tell them
about the girl who has no seeing. And on more leaves I did print all
about the cathedral and how the presence of Saint Louis is always
near unto it. And then it was come time for school to let out.
I went adown the road. I went the way by the field where Aidan of
Iona come from Lindisfarne was on yesterday. I climbed the fence. I
looked looks about. He was not there to-day. But there were Bede of
Jarrow and Felix of Croyland. I did have talks with them. I went on.
I went on to the singing creek where the willows grew. I gathered
water-cress for the mamma. Then I did go my way to the house we live
in. No one was there. I put the water-cress for the mamma on the
cook table. Then I did bring much wood in and put it in the wood-box
back of the kitchen stove.
After the chickens did have their supper feed, I did go into the
near woods. I so went to tie the messages I did print on gray leaves
to the trees. And I tied one on one tree and one on another. I tied
them there that they may go in thoughts to Angel Mother and Angel
Father up in heaven there. And I did have thinks when the angels come
to walk in the near woods they would see and carry them on. And I
did say a little prayer every time I did tie on a leaf-message.
I did look looks about. This woods is gray in winter when come cold
days. And gray shadows walk among the trees. They touch one’s face
with velvet fingers when one goes walking there in the woods. In
the winter old gray leaves grow to look like lace. They are very
beautiful. As I did go along, I saw many gray rocks. Some gray
rocks had gray and green patches on them. Some of these patches had
ruffles all around their edges. The gray patches on gray rocks are
lichens. My Angel Father said so. Lichen folks talk in gray tones. I
think they do talk more when come winter days. I hear their voices
more in December than I do hear their voices in July and June time.
Angel Father did show me the way to listen to lichen voices. Most
grown-ups don’t hear them at all. I see them walk right by--in a
hurry sometimes. And all the time the lichen folks are saying things.
And the things they say are their thoughts about the gladness of a
winter day. I put my ear close to the rocks and I listen. That is how
I do hear what they are saying. Then I do take a reed for a flute.
I climb on a stump--on the most high stump that is near. I pipe on
the flute to the wind what the lichens are saying. I am piper for
the lichens that dwell on the gray rocks, and the lichens that cling
to the trees grown old.
CHAPTER XVII
_Of Works to be Done; and how it Was that a Glad Light Came into
the Eyes of the Man who Wears Gray Neckties and Is Kind to Mice._
Morning works is done--and some more already too. There is enough
barks in for to-day and to-morrow. And many kindlings are now in on
the floor by the big wood-box. I have had my dinner at the noontime
and I went into the barn. There were little sad sounds in the stall.
It was the moos of Mathilde Plantagenet. Now I have thinks her
moos were moos for some dinner at noontime. She has breakfast at
morningtime and supper she has at gray-light-time. But when noontime
is come, Mathilde Plantagenet is here in the barn, and her mother,
the most gentle Jersey cow, is away out in the pasture. I have thinks
there is needs for me to take Mathilde Plantagenet from the barn to
the pasture at noontimes so she may have her dinner. I go now to
so do.
I did give the latch of the barn-door a slip back. Then I led
Mathilde Plantagenet out by the little rope I did use to use to lead
Elizabeth Barrett Browning out by when she was a little calf. We
went our way to the pasture-bars. I did give to one a push, and it
made a drop down. Then I gave two more pushes, and they went drop
downs. We went on through in between. It took a more long time to
fix up the pasture-bars. They have so heavy feels when I go to put
them back again. When I did have them so put, we made a go-on. We
went a little way on. We did not have goes far, for the gentle Jersey
cow had sees of our coming and she came to meet us. We was glad to
have it so. I have thinks Mathilde Plantagenet did have most joy
feels about it. She did start to get her dinner from her mother in
a quick way. I watched her suck and suck some more. Seeing her have
her dinner from her mother a long time before suppertime did make
me to have such a big amount of satisfaction feels.
The grandpa felt not so. There was disturbs on his temper. He was
at our house when I was come home from leading Mathilde Plantagenet
back to the barn after she had sucked her mother a long time. The
mamma did spank me some and some more. Now I have wonders why was
it the grandpa felt not satisfaction feels at Mathilde Plantagenet
having her dinner near noontime just like most all other children.
After the mamma did spank me, she told me more works to do, and she
went with her father to the ranch-house to see her mother that was
newly come back from the mill town where she did go early on this
morning.
When the more works was done, I went in a quick soft way to the
woods. I made little hops over the bushes--the little bushes--as
I did go along. I went along the path until I came near unto the
way that does lead to the big old log where is the moss-box. I hid
behind a tree when I was almost come there. I so did to wait a wait
to see if the fairies were near about. I had not seeing of one about
the moss-box.
I looked looks about. I looked looks about the old root by the log. It
turned a big piece of bark over. Under it was something between two
layers of moss tied up with a pink ribbon. I felt glad feels. When
I did untie the pink ribbon around the moss, there was lots more of
pink ribbons. They did have little cards, and the little card on a
nice long piece of pink ribbon said, “For Thomas Chatterton Jupiter
Zeus.” Another card on a more long piece did say, “For William
Shakespeare.” Another card on a more short piece did say, “For Lars
Porsena of Clusium.” And there was a ribbon for Brave Horatius and
Isaiah and Elizabeth Barrett Browning and for Mathilde Plantagenet,
and there was more.
I did take them all in my arms and I did go to the mill in the far
woods. I so went to show all those pretty pink ribbons to the man
that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice. I did show him all the
cards that was on them. He was glad. I had seeing of the glad light
in his eyes. He and I--we do believe in fairies. Near him to-day was
working the man of the long step that whistles most all of the time.
He is a man with an understanding soul. When Brave Horatius did get
his leg hurt the other day, this man did wash it and mentholatum it,
and he wrapped his handkerchief in rounds around it. Brave Horatius
has likes for him, too.
To-day, when I did show to the man that wears gray neckties and is
kind to mice all the pink ribbons the fairies did bring, he did say
he thought the other man would like to see Brave Horatius’s new
pink ribbon that he was going to wear to cathedral service come
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