Josiah wuz in a hurry to git home, but I persuaded him to stop for a day at Dr. Phillip Rhode’s, who married she that wuz Dora Peak, daughter of my cousin on my own side.
I think everything of Dora and she of me, visey versey, for, if I say it that shouldn’t, I helped her more’n considerable to her present state of health, happiness, and common sense, and I spoze mebby you’d like to know about it. It’s quite a long story, but I can tell it if it’s best. It wuz about a year ago that Albina Peak, Dora’s mother, come to Jonesville on a errent, a important one.
I wuz standin’ before the winder washin’ my dishes and lookin’ out on the great waves of pink and green that wuz spread out in front of me (the orchard wuz in full bloom and promisin’ a grand fruit year), and I seemed to sort o’ float away on them waves into the past, layin’ firm holt of the present, too, and my clean linen dish-cloth, as folks can in their most romantick moods, if they’ve got any gumption—when all of a sudden Albina Ann Peak arrived. We hadn’t seen each other much of late years, for she lived in the city, but she wuz a third cousin of mine, and we used to go to school together up in the old Rizley schoolhouse, and she sort o’ leaned on me for strength and help in long division. She wuz dretful romantick and dreamy in them days, and devoured pickles and poetry enormously. But she sot store by me, and in the time of trouble I spoze she thought on me and kinder wanted to lean agin, her husband, who wuz a man of common sense and some property, havin’ passed away some years before.
Albina Ann said that the doctor said her daughter, Dora, couldn’t possibly live only a few months unless she got help, and it wuz a mysterious inward disorder she had, though the doctor had named it a strange, strange name that seemed to scare Albina Ann most to death, she couldn’t remember what it wuz, she said it sounded some like Constantinople-Andronopolis, but wuzn’t that, but wuz worse and more skairful, but I told her I shouldn’t let any doctor’s names skair me, they didn’t make nothin’ of usin’ names that wuz fearful. Then she told me that with all this sickness wuz love-sickness added, and for a poor dissipated chap, but good lookin’ and fascinating, and I said:
“This is worse than Constantinople-Andronopolis enough sight.”
And Albina sez, “That hain’t the name, but sounds like it.”
And I sez, “Well, it is worse than anything that sounds like anything.”
And she sez, “Well, I want to have it broke up, it has got to be broke up.” And she resoomed, “I’ve got to go and see my son Henry’s wife, who is dyin’ with fever at Denver, with twins added to it, and he sick abed, too.” And she sez, “It seems as if my troubles all fall on me to once. Both my children liable to die off at any time, and my daughter-in-law and the twins, too.”
And I looked sympathizin’ on her and sez jest for all the world as I used to at school, “I wish I could help you out, Albina Ann.”
“That’s jest what I’ve come for,” sez she; “I’ve got to go to Henry’s for a spell, anyway,” and would I for the sake of old times, to say nothin’ of the ties of third cousin, would I let her poor sick girl come down into the country and see if the country air and my care would recuperate her up a little mite, or if she couldn’t be helped, make the poor dear, dyin’ girl as comfortable as I could? She said money wuz no object to her. And I said it wuzn’t no object to me. And then she said she thought it wuz a mysterious Providential affliction to have her beautiful only daughter so delicate and liable to expire any minute, still she felt that it wuz tough on her, and she bespoke my sympathy, jest as she used to git help in her old Ruger and Olney’s gography. And she asked me pintedly if I didn’t think it wuz a strange, strange dispensation of Providence that when she wuz so abundantly able to care for her only daughter, so many poor girls wuz spared healthy and happy, and her only girl seemed about to be took, and sez she, “She wuz a healthy baby, weighed ten pounds at first, but,” she added, “she is so sweet and pure that probable the angels feel that they can’t do without her society much longer.”
And I sot up on the fence, mentally, as it were pretty straight, and didn’t say yea or nay, knowin’ that many things wuz laid on Providence He wuzn’t to blame for.
Well, I told Albina Ann, after thinkin’ it over and consultin’ Josiah out in the hoss barn, that she might send her girl down for a spell and I’d do the best I could for her. She seemed to be real relieved when I told her, and then bime-bye we got to talkin’ about Le Flam agin, for that wuz the name of the dissipated young chap she had mentioned, and I told her I approved of her stand, for if a man couldn’t reform durin’ the enchanted days of courtship what could you expect when married life and its disillusions should take place, late dinners, cleanin’ house, etcetery, etcetery, and inflamatory rumatiz, ulcerated teeth and colick?
But I sez to Albina Ann, “Why under the sun did you let him come to your house in the first place, if you knew what he wuz?”
And she said she always knew that he wuz a poor, miserable creature, but she felt that it would be breakin’ up the sweet, heavenly atmosphere of confidence that had always existed between her and her only daughter if she said anything against Le Flam to her.
“You hain’t spoke to her about him?” sez I, in wondering axents.
“No, Cousin Samantha; her heart seems to be so wropped up in him, and the cords that connect her soul to mine are so linked in with her girlish dreams, that I could not bear to ruffle ’em, the harmony between us has always been so heavenly.”
Sez I, “The harmony would be liable to be ruffled a little if you should see her abused by a dissipated brute, and she and her children snaked round by the hair of their heads and turned outdoors, etc.”
“Oh! oh!” sez she, puttin’ up her hands, “don’t pierce my soul with such agonizin’ thoughts!”
“Well,” sez I, coolin’ down a little, “the best way to escape such agony is to use common sense in the first place. Why under the sun didn’t you stop her going with him?”
“Oh, her sweet, tender heart seemed to be set upon him from the first, and I couldn’t bear to break up those sweet dreams.”
I begun to see where the land lay; I looked at Albina Ann sadly. There she sot, a full grown woman, with a waist like a pipe stail and shues with heels half a finger high, and tellin’ she dassent warn her girl from the evil to come.
But I didn’t say anything to add to her agitation, I simply remarked, “Well, I never see the time that I wouldn’t pull Tirzah Ann out of the fire, if I see her blindly blunderin’ into it, or haul back Thomas J. from precipices. But we hain’t all made alike, and our faces all on ’em are but the faces of clay.”
I never meant to give her a cut no more than nothin’ in the world, I wuz talkin’ Bible and feelin’ riz up.
But I see her lift her lace handkerchief in her tight gloved hand, and then I see, her veil bein’ up, that her color wuzn’t nateral and the hull complexion made up. But, good land! I wuzn’t goin’ to try to make over Albina Ann Peak, she’d been made too long—she wuz about my age—but I told her she could send Dora down and I’d do the best I could for her, and she kissed me good-by through her veil (a white one with big, black dots). I thought no wonder Albina Ann’s eyes has gin out, she wuz most as blind as a checkud adder. Why, if you’ll believe it, she sot most all day with that veil over her face. I spoze she thought it wuz becomin’ to her, but I should jest as soon wore blinders.
In about ten days Dora come, Josiah went after her with the democrat and brought her and three trunks and some satchels. When I see them trunks I felt dubersome, and mebby looked so, for thinkses I, “Is it a life job I’ve tackled?” but in a minute I thought, “Why, it’s in her bringin’ up; Albina Ann wuz always changin’ her dress, and ornamentin’ herself, and actin’.” So I met her with cheerfulness and kissed her on both cheeks, while Josiah, a-groanin’, as I could hear, tackled the trunks. I see she wuz naterally a pretty girl, but looked wan and wapeish, and I didn’t wonder a mite at it when I took close note of the way she wuz dressed.
I had a warm supper ready, for I thought she would be tired and hungry. But she couldn’t eat a mite, she said, not a mou’ful, but I see she had a big empty candy box in her hand, and she owned up that she’d eat it all on her journey. And bime-by she told me she had had some pickled stuff that she had brung for an appetite, and they wuz all eat up.
Well, after she’d took her things off I see she wuz a sight to behold. If her waist wuzn’t a cur’os’ty then I never see one. Why, if I do say it, and I’m a Methodist in good standin’, it wuzn’t much bigger than a quill—a goose quill; of course it wuz some bigger, but it is within bounds to use it for a metafor. The heels of her little pinted shoes wuz more’n two and a half inches high and sot right in the palm of her foot, right on them nerves that cause headache and blindness, and fits and things, and I knew by the looks of them pinted toes that no human toes could possibly git into ’em without bein’ all twisted up just like a heathen Chinee’s.
Well, I declare I felt to weep almost when I looked at her. She wuz so weak that I had to take her right up to her room and lay her out on the bed. And I hefted her dress and skirts after I’d helped her off with ’em, and of all the heft you ever see, why, it wuz astonishin’. Her dress wuz tailor-made, and embroidered all over with braid, and fitted her like a glove, but heavy as lead almost, and jest a-draggin’ round her waist—not a shoulder strap, nor a button or string or anything that she could divide the burden with; no, them heavy skirts all a-hangin’ like millstuns round the little, spindlin’ waist, and that so tight bound down by a hard bone-and-steel cosset that it looked like a prisoner of the deepest dye incarcerated in the closest confinement. I see when she lay down, tired almost to death and a-gaspin’, that she didn’t remove her cosset; no, there it wuz, a-holdin’ her in its deathly grip right there on the bed, and I sez, “Don’t you take off your cosset when you lay down?”
“No,” sez she, kinder pantin’ for breath, “Mamma thinks it hurts any one’s form so to lounge round with cossets off that she never allowed me to take them off when I lay down in the daytime, and Aggie le Fleur wears hers all night, so Mamma said, and she said that she meant to have me wear mine all night when I got a little stronger. Mamma sez that it injures one’s form terribly to go without ’em even for an hour. It ruins anybody to go without ’em, so Mamma said and so Aggie le Fleur sez.”
“Is it possible,” sez I; “I never mistrusted before that I wuz ruined, and I’ve gone without ’em since long enough before you and that young Le Fleur woman you speak of wuz anywhere round or thought on, and,” sez I, “if I wuz in your place I’d run the resk of bein’ spilte, and take that thing offen me.”
She wuz a sweet-dispositioned girl, I could see, and she consented, and she sot up and exerted the hull of her strength, and finally onhinged or onjinted it somewhere and peeled it offen her. And such a sithe of relief she gin, as she sank down on the bed. I felt dretfully to find out by a question or two that the cosset left deep marks. But still I knew cryin’ and sympathy wuzn’t what she needed; no, it wuz cast-iron firmness and common sense. So I took up that instrument of agony some as if it wuz a snake and carried it into the closet under the stairs, and hung it up and locked the door, and sez I in a winnin’ way, “Now, my dear, you let that hang there for a spell and see what will come of it.”
She wuz horrified at the idee, I could see, but bein’ of such a good disposition she crumpled down and bore it.
Well, after Josiah and I eat (that man wouldn’t wait a minute for the President) I got her a good wholesome supper and carried it up into her room on a tray. I had a piece of the breast of a chicken broiled and nice, some delicate toast, and sweet graham bread and butter, and ripe strawberries, and a fragrant cup of coffee not too strong, and plenty of cream. It wuz a good supper. I see she looked disappointed in not havin’ rich cake and sweetmeats, but I talked real cheerful to her about the relations and one thing and another, and, though she said she couldn’t eat a mou’ful, yet she did make out quite a meal. Well, after supper she put on a tea-gown, a pretty, white affair, and some slippers, and come downstairs, and I see, though mebby she didn’t think I did, how different she breathed and how different she looked when she had her iron armor off. She wuz a pretty girl, I see plain—just as pretty as a pink rosy.
Well, that first evenin’ about a quarter to nine she began to look perter and sort of brightened up, and I told her so, and she sez, “Yes, Aunt Samantha, this is the hour that mamma begins to help me dress to go out.”
“To go out!” sez I; “do you mean to the barn?”
“Oh, no,” sez she; “to go to parties.”
“To begin at nine o’clock to dress you to go to parties! Why, for the land sakes, what time do you git home?”
“Well, usually before mornin’,” sez she, “along about four.”
“Along about four!” I gasped, “and you don’t git any sleep nights until morning—till it is time to git up! For the land sakes!” sez I. “What time do you gen’rally git up?”
“Well, usually before noon,” sez she.
“Before noon! Why,” sez I, “at noon all my work is done for the day and I’m ready to sit down and rest, and you lose all them golden hours, full of beauty, in bed.”
“Well, Aunt Samantha,” sez she, wantin’ to please me I could see, wantin’ to like a dog, “I’ve tried not going to bed at all, but I’m not strong enough to go entirely without sleep.”
“No, indeed!” sez I. “I should think not. Why, a ox hain’t strong enough, let alone a delicate young girl like you.”
“But,” sez she, liftin’ her sweet, innocent face to mine, “what can I do, then, Aunt Samantha?”
“Go to bed at the proper time,” sez I. And unconsciously, I spoze, I put so much common sense into my axents that they sounded ha’sh; she looked kinder skairt, and sez she:
“But, Aunt Samantha, if I go into society I must do as the rest of ’em do.”
Mekanically I lifted my eyes toward Heaven and sez, “Hain’t there any society, then, but the society of fools and lunys? But even a fool orter know that mornin’ is the time to git up instead of goin’ to bed.”
But she looked real kinder flustrated and helpless, so I desisted from further remarks at that time, and at ten minutes to nine precisely I got up and lighted our chamber lamps and Josiah wound up the clock, and I sez, “Well, dear, I will go with you to your room.”
She looked at the clock and then at me with a look that a female Hottentot might have if I wuz fastening on skates for her to dash out on to a frozen lake. But she didn’t say anything. And I kinder whispered to her on our way upstairs: “It would disturb your Uncle Josiah for us to set up longer, and you try goin’ to bed early and gettin’ up early for a spell and see what it will do for you,” sez I encouragingly. “I believe it will be just the thing to put some color into your white cheeks and some bright sparkles into your eyes.”
Well, she didn’t demur outwardly, but immediately begun to take her hair down to brush it, and I laid my hand fondly on to them long, golden waves that swep’ down below her waist, and sez I, “I want you to be happy here, and to be happy one has to be healthy,” and I repeated partly to myself and partly to her that invaluable bit of advice:
“Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.”
And then I see that the toilet things wuz all right, plenty of water and towels, and I looked at the little covered glass pitcher with fresh drinking water in it, and see that there wuz matches and candles, etc., and then sez I, “Is there anything else you would like, my dear?”
Well, she sort of hesitated and looked as if most afraid to ask, and then sez, “Well, Aunt Samantha, if you’ve got a piece of mince pie or fruit cake I would like to take a bite. I sometimes have a sort of gnawin’ at my stomach, and Mamma always keeps something rich baked up for me; she thinks it’s strengthening to me to eat rich things, and she always brings up a plateful before I retire, with some cheese, or pickles, or dried beef; I have got into the habit of eating something of the kind, but I don’t like to make you any trouble,” sez she.
“Oh, no trouble at all,” sez I; “some folks can sleep better after takin’ a bite.” And I went down into the buttery feelin’ mad as a hen at Albina Ann and sorry as a dog for Dora. And I took a little pink china bowl full of good night’s milk with a little cream in it, and a slice or two of my good, sweet graham bread, and put ’em on a little Japan tray with a pretty fringed tidy on it, and a bright silver spoon, and when it was all fixed I took it up to her.
Her face fell as she noticed the absence of pickles and pastry. But she thanked me and eat a little of it, and it seemed to taste good, and she finished the hull of it before she got through. And she put on a pretty white nightgown and got into bed, and I bent down and sort of tucked in the light white spread and patted the pillows, and I sez, “You feel pretty good, don’t you?”
And she smiled and sez, “Yes, mom.” But she looked real weak, and I bent down and whispered to her:
“You mustn’t forget, my dear, to ask the True Physician to help you.” She lifted up her head and was just about to git out of bed agin, and I sez, “You can ask Him right where you be, for He don’t mind; what He minds is the true reverence of the soul—the dependent call for help from them that need His care and who believes He can help ’em.”
“Yes, mom,” sez she; “I always say my prayers every night.”
“Well,” sez I, “so do.” And I kissed her and couldn’t help it. I wuz beginnin’ to like her the best that ever wuz. But jest as I wuz leavin’ the room she looked up anxiously with her big blue eyes and sez, “Oh, Aunt Samantha, won’t you close the window at the foot of the bed and the one in the next room?” That wuz another little bedroom that opened out of hers and I used it for a clothes-press.
“Why,” sez I, “Honey, the wind couldn’t touch you at all if there wuz any; your bed is out of the range on’t; but,” sez I, goin’ into the next room and bringin’ out a big screen (one I made myself out of the old ironin’ bars and some pretty cretonne), “here,” sez I, “I’ll put this between your bed and the winder, and you couldn’t git cold in a cyclone, much less in this sweet June air that comes up fresh from the heart of Nater and brings a touch of her own healin’ and rest with it.”
But she looked frightened still, most as if she’d faint away, and sez she, “Mamma told me special to have you cork the windows up tight if there wuz any airholes round ’em.”
“Cork ’em up,” sez I mekanically, “I would fur ruther oncork ’em,” sez I, and I went on, “What is the reason for her desire for corkin’?”
“The night air is so deadly,” sez she; “Mamma is so much afraid of it that she never has dared to let a breath of it come to me after I wuz in bed.”
“Why,” sez I reasonably, “what air could you breathe in the night, only night air; and do you spoze,” sez I, “that the Lord would fix things so as to have us breathe deadly pizen half of our time? Why, you don’t have to go into algebra to figger it out; in the night time you’ve got to breathe the night air; you can’t git any other, and it stands to reason that you’d better breathe it fresh from the hand that made it—good oxygen, etc., than to take it pizened with all sorts of pizen risin’ from the prespirin’ skin, weak lungs and stomach, coal gas, etc.”
Well, agin her good disposition come in and fetched her through this crisis. She settled down agin into the bed with a kind of a patient sithe, though I could see that she wuz as afraid of that air as if it wuz wild beasts ready to devour her, yet lookin’ some relieved at the apple-blows and mornin’ glories that twined round all over that screen as if they wuz some protection to her.
I bent down and kissed her agin and she kissed me back, and I went to bed. But I’ll bet I got up most a dozen times and went to her door and listened, and once in a while I could hear her give a kind of a low mourn or sithe. But I didn’t dast to let her know that I wuz there for fear of wakin’ her clear up, and I spozed goin’ to bed at such a different hour and so many new idees bein’ promulgated to her would naterally upset her, but I kinder worried about her all night.
Well, in the mornin’ she wuz bed-sick—too sick to git up—and I can’t say but what I did have a few reflections, mebby two or three, thinkin’ of the night air and the corks I’d refused and the quantities of air I’d let in. But yet I wuz held up a good deal by duty and the thought that her weak feelin’s wuz probable caused by reasons I’ve named and her journey in waist screws and heel tortures, and then her sentimental feelin’s for Le Flam I spozed helped it on some; but anyway and ’tennyrate, she looked like death when I carried up her coffee and toast to her—not strong coffee, but jest right, fresh, and fragrant and plenty of cream, and the toast was delicate, brown, and crispy, and I took up a fresh egg and a little china dish of strawberries. But she couldn’t eat a mou’ful. And I wuz most skairt, she looked so white and tired, and I sez to Josiah when I went downstairs:
“You’ll have to go to Jonesville and git the doctor.” For I, not knowin’ how much wuz sentiment and how much sickness, thought I’d better be on the safe side and git a doctor, and owin’ to a feelin’ that I couldn’t quite explain myself, it come to me so sort of queer and sudden, “Git young Dr. Phillip,” sez I. You see, Dr. Phillip Rhodes, father and son, wuz doctors, and folks called ’em old Dr. Phillip and young Dr. Phillip.
And Josiah sez, “You always have the old doctor, Samantha.”
And I sez, “That don’t make any difference, Josiah; you get young Dr. Phillip.”
And I thought on’t after he went, I didn’t really know why I did insist on havin’ him; I don’t really think that I’d planned out anything in my own mind at that time, but I wuz kinder led to do what I did.