Aunt Madge's Story Page 3

  CHAPTER III.

  THE BLUE PARASOL.

  The Blue Parasol]

  As I look back upon those make-believe days, naughty recollectionsspring up as fast as dust in August.

  Ruphelle seems to me like a little white lily of the valley, allpure and sweet, but I was no more fit to be with her than a pricklythistle. I loved dearly to tease her. Once she had some bronze shoes,and I wanted some too, but there were none to be had in town, and toconsole myself, I said to dear little Fel, "I'd twice rather haveblack shoes, bronzes look so rusty; O, my! If I couldn't have blackshoes I'd go barefoot."

  Fel did not wish me to see how ashamed this made her feel, but I couldnot help noticing afterwards that she never wore the bronze shoes tochurch.

  I pined and fretted because I could not have nice things like her.She had a coral necklace, and a blue silk bonnet, and a white dress,with flowers worked all over it with a needle. Did _my_ best dresshave flowers worked over it with a needle? I should think not. And Ihadn't a speck of a necklace, nor any bonnet but just straw. I did notknow that Squire Allen was one of the wealthiest men in the state, andcould afford beautiful things for his little daughter, while my fatherwas poor, or at least not rich, and my mother had to puzzle her brainsa good deal to contrive to keep her little romping, heedless,try-patience of a daughter looking respectable.

  Once, when I was about six years old, I did a very naughty thing. Why,Fly, what makes your eyes shine so? Can it be you like to hear naughtystories? Queer, isn't it? Ah, but this story makes me ashamed, evennow that I am a grown-up woman. Wait a minute; I must go back alittle; it was the parasol that began it.

  When Fel and I were going home from school one night, we stopped totake some of our make-believe slides. Not far from our house, near theriver-bank, were two sloping mounds, between which a brook had oncerun. These little mounds were soft and green, and dotted with whiteinnocence flowers; and what fun it was to start at the top of one ofthem, and roll over and over, down into the valley. Somehow, Fel,being a lady-child, never stained her cape bonnet, while mine was allstreaks; and she never tore her skirts off the waist; but what if Idid tear mine? They always grew together again, I never stopped tothink how.

  This time, as we were having a jolly roll, Madam Allen rode along inthe carryall, with Tempy Ann driving.

  "Stop, and let us see what those children are doing," said she; andTempy Ann stopped.

  Fel and I danced upon our feet, and started to run to the carryall,but of course I tumbled down before I got there. While I was pickingmy foot out of the hole in my frock, I heard Fel exclaim, joyfully,"O, mamma, is it for me? What a beauty, beauty, beauty!"

  "Yes, dear, I bought it for you, but if you are going to be a gypsychild, I suppose you won't want it."

  I looked and saw the cunningest little sunshade, with its headtipped on one side, like a great blue morning glory. Never again shallI behold anything so beautiful. Queen Victoria's crown and EmpressEugenie's diamonds wouldn't compare with it for a moment. They say wefeel most keenly those joys we never quite grasp; and I know thatparasol, swinging round in Fel's little hand, was more bewitching tome than if I had held it myself. O, why wasn't it mine? I thought ofFel's coral necklace, and blue silk bonnet, and the white dress withneedlework flowers, and now if she was going to have a parasol too, Imight as well die and done with it.

  "O, Marjie, Marjie!" cried she, dancing up to me with her sweet littleface in a glow, "_do_ you see what I've got?"

  I never answered. I just lay there and kicked dirt with my shoe. Thecarryall was in front of us, and Madam Allen could not see how Ibehaved.

  "Come, little daughter," called she, "jump in and ride home."

  But Fel thought she would rather walk with me, for I hadn't noticedher parasol yet. So her mother drove off.

  "Isn't it a teenty tonty beauty?" cried she, waving it before me.

  I shut my teeth together and kicked.

  "You haven't looked, Marjie; see what a teenty tonty beauty!"

  She never could quite enjoy her pretty things till I had praisedthem. I knew that, and took a wicked pleasure in holding my tongue.

  "Why, Marjie," said she, in a grieved tone, "why don't you look? It'sthe teenty tontiest beauty ever you saw."

  "There, that's the _threeth_ time you've said so, Fel Allen."

  "Well, it's the truly truth, Madge Parlin."

  "No, it isn't neither; and you're a little lie-girl," snapped I.

  This was an absurd speech, and I did not mean a word of it, for Idoubt if Fel had ever told a wrong story in her life. "You're a littlelie-girl. _Got a parasol, too!_"

  She only looked sorry to see me so cross. She couldn't be veryunhappy, standing there stroking those soft silk tassels.

  "I hope your mamma 'll give you one, too," murmured the dear littlesoul.

  I sprang up at that.

  "O, do you s'pose she would?" I cried; and by the time I had takenanother roll down the bank my spirits rose wonderfully, and I let herput the parasol in my hand, even exclaiming,--

  "No, I never did see anything so nice!" But I secretly hoped my ownwould be nicer still.

  "Come home to my house," said I, "and ask my mamma if I can have aparasol too."

  We were very near the house, and she went in with me. Mother was inthe kitchen, stewing apple-sauce for supper. I remember what a tiredlook she had on her face, and how wearily she stirred the apple-sauce,which was bubbling in the porcelain kettle.

  "You speak now," whispered I to Fel. "You speak first."

  This was asking a great deal of the dear little friend I had justcalled a lie-girl. If she hadn't loved me better, much better than Ideserved, she would have turned and run away. As it was, she called upall her courage, the timid little thing, and fluttering up to mymother, gently poked the end of the parasol into the bow of her blacksilk apron.

  "Please, O, please, Mrs. Parlin, do look and see how pretty it is."

  That was as far as she could get for some time, till mother smiled andkissed her, and asked once or twice, "Well, dear, what is it?"

  I ran into the shed and back again, too excited to stand still.Mother was always so tender of Fel, that I did think she couldn'trefuse her. I was sure, at any rate, she would say as much as, "Wewill see about it, dear;" but instead of that she gave her an extrahug, and answered sorrowfully,--

  "I wish I could buy Margaret a parasol; but really it is not to bethought of."

  I dropped into the chip-basket, and cried.

  "If she knew how to take care of her things perhaps I might, but it iswicked to throw away money."

  "O, mamma, _did_ you s'pose I'd let it fall in the _hoss troth_?"screamed I, remembering the fate of my last week's hat, with the greenvine round it. "If you'll only give me a pairsol, mamma, I won't nevercarry it out to the barn, nor down to the river, nor anywhere 'n thisworld. I'll keep it in your bandbox, right side o' your bonnet, wherethere don't any mice come, or any flies, and never touch it, nor askto see it, nor--"

  "There, that'll do," said mother, stopping me at full tide. "I wouldbe glad to please my little girl if I thought it would be right; but Ihave said No once, and after that, Margaret, you know how foolish itis to tease."

  Didn't I know, to my sorrow? As foolish as it would be to stand andfire popguns at the rock of Gibraltar.

  I rushed out to the barn, and never stopped to look behind me. Felfollowed, crying softly; but what had I to say to that dear littlefriend, who felt my sorrows almost as if they were her own?

  "You didn't ask my mamma pretty, and that's why she wouldn't give meno pairsol."

  No thanks for the kind office she had performed for me; no apology forcalling her a lie-girl. Only,--

  "You didn't ask my mamma pretty, Fel Allen."

  She choked down one little sob that ought to have broken my heart,and turned and went away. You wonder she should have loved me. Isuppose I had "good fits;" they say I was honey-sweet sometimes; butas I recall my little days, it does seem to me as if I was alw
ays,always snubbing that precious child. When she was out of sight, Idived head first into the hay, and tried for as much as ten minutes tohate my mother. After a long season of sulks, such as it is to behoped none of _you_ ever indulged in, I stole back to the housethrough the shed, and Ruth, who did not know what had broken my heart,exclaimed,--

  "Why, Maggie, what ails you? You've fairly cried your eyes out,child!"

  I climbed a chair, and looked in the glass, which hung between thekitchen windows, and sure enough I was a sight to behold. My eyes,always very large, were now red and swollen, and seemed bursting fromtheir sockets. I had never thought before that eyes could burst; butnow I ran to Ruthie in alarm.

  "I _have_ cried my eyes out! O, Ruthie, I've _started_ 'em!"

  She laughed at my distress, kissed me, and set me at ease about myeyeballs; but the parasol was denied me, and I was sure that, blind ornot, I could never be happy without it.

  The little bits of girls had afternoon parties that summer; it wasquite the fashion; and not long after this Madam Allen made one forFel. Everybody said it was the nicest party we had had; for Tempy Annmade sailor-boy doughnuts, with sugar sprinkled on, and damson tarts,and lemonade, to say nothing of "sandiges," with chicken in themiddle. I loved Fel dearly, I know I did; but by fits and starts I wasso full of envy that I had to go off by myself and pout.

  "A party and a pairsol the same year! And Fel never 'spected thepairsol, and didn't ask real hard for the party. But that was alwaysthe way; her mamma wanted her to have good times, and so did TempyAnn. _Some_ folks' mammas didn't care!"

  I was willing nice things should fall to Fel's lot; but I wanted justas nice ones myself.

  Fel showed the girls her "pairsol," and they all said they meant tohave one too; all but me; I could only stand and look on, with myeyeballs just ready to pop out of my head.

  I remember what sick dolls we had that afternoon; and when any ofthem died, the live dolls followed them to the grave with weeping andwailing, and their wee handkerchiefs so full of grief that you couldtrace the procession by the tears that dripped upon the carpet. Yes;but the mourners all had the cunningest little "pairsols" ofnasturtium leaves. There wasn't a "single one doll" that marchedwithout a pairsol, not even my Rosy Posy; for I had a motherly heart,and couldn't mortify _my_ child! She _should_ have "sumpin to keepthe sun off," if it cost the last cent her mamma had in the world!

  I had a dismal fit just before supper, and went into GrandpaHarrington's room, back of the parlor. He was always fond of littlefolks, but very queer, as I have told you. He had a fire in thefireplace, and was sitting before it, though it was summer. He lookedup when I went in, and said, "How do, darling? My feet are as cold asa dead lamb's tongue; does your father keep sheep?"

  Next minute he said,--

  "My feet are as cold as a dog's nose; does your father keep a dog?"

  That was the way he rambled on from one thing to another. But whenhe saw I was low-spirited, and found by questioning me that I needed aparasol, and couldn't live long without one, he took me on his knee,and said kindly,--

  "Never mind it, Pet; you shall have a parasol. I will give you one."

  I could hardly speak for joy. I did not feel ashamed of myself tillafterwards, for Grandpa Harrington did not seem like other people, andI saw no harm in whining to him about my troubles.