Aunt Madge's Story Read online

  CHAPTER VI.

  THE PATCHWORK SCHOOL.

  Fel and I had begun to read before we were four years old, and bythe time we were six we knew too much to go to the town school anymore. I believe that was what we thought; but the fact was, Fel wasvery delicate, and her mother considered the walk to the school-housetoo long for her, and the benches too hard. She wished to have agoverness come and live in the house, so the child could study athome. I thought this was too bad. I knew almost as much as Fel did.Why must I go to the town school if it wasn't good enough for her?

  "Mamma, I wish I was del'cate," whined I. "Ned snipped off my fingerin the corn-sheller,--don't that make me del'cate?"

  "Delicate!" said Ned. "You're as tough as a pine knot."

  I thought this was a cruel speech. He ought to be ashamed to snip offmy finger, and _then_ call me tough.

  In looking about for a governess, Madam Allen thought at once ofdear Martha Rubie, who lived just across the garden from their house.Uncle John's wife was her sister, the aunt Persis I told you about,who thought I ought not to hear baby-talk. Aunt Persis wasn't willingher sister Martha should go away from home; she said Fel might tripacross the garden and say her lessons at her house. Fel didn't like todo it, for she was afraid of aunt Persis--she wouldn't go unless Iwould go with her; and finally mother said I might; so it turned outjust as well for me as if I was delicate. She wanted Gust to go too,and he wasn't willing. But if Fel set her heart on anything itgenerally came about.

  "Augustus," said Madam Allen, smiling with her pleasant black eyes,which had a firm look in them, "you will recite to Miss Rubie if Iwish it."

  "Well, then, I want some of the other fellows to 'cite too," sniffedlittle Gust; "'tisn't fair for one boy to go to a patchwork school,long o' girls."

  And thus it happened that several children joined us, and Miss Rubiehad quite a sizable school.

  And now I must tell you what sort of a house we went to; for thewhole thing was very queer. In the first place, there was dear uncleJohn,--yes, _your_ uncle John; but don't ask any questions; I'll tellyou more by and by,--and his wife, that was aunt Persis; and hiswife's sister, dear sweet Martha Rubie; and his little boy, Zed. AuntPersis was an elegant, stately woman, but there was always somethingodd about her. I think myself it was odd she shouldn't like baby-talk.

  She knit herself into my earliest recollections when she was PaulineRubie, and after she married uncle John, she knit my stockings justthe same, and uncle never interfered with the stripes, red and white,running round and round like a barber's pole. They were the pride ofmy life till Gust Allen said they made my little legs look like sticksof candy, good enough to eat. Then I hated them; but aunt Persis hadgot in the way of knitting stripes, and wouldn't stop it, beg as Imight--for she always thought her way was right, and couldn't beimproved.

  Among other things she thought she knew all about medicine. There wasa system called "hot crop," or "steaming," and she believed in it, andwanted everybody to take fiery hot drinks, and be steamed. That wasthe chief reason why we were so afraid of her.

  Her house was a very pleasant, cosy one, or would have been if ithadn't had such a scent of herbs all through it. The first day we wentto school aunt Persis met us at the door, and asked Fel to put out hertongue. Then she took us to a cupboard, and gave Fel something todrink, that we both thought was coffee; but it was stinging hotcomposition tea. Miss Rubie came into the kitchen just as Fel wascatching her breath over the last mouthful, and said she,--

  "O, Persis, how could you?"

  We followed Miss Rubie into the school-room as fast as we could go.This school-room was right over a little cellar, just deep enough fora grown person to stand up in. It was called the "jelly-cellar," andwhen we were naughty Miss Rubie opened a trap-door and let us down. Iwas so restless and noisy that for a while I spent half my time inthat cellar, surrounded by jars of jelly and jam. And I am afraid Icould say sometimes, "How sweet is solitude!" for there was just lightenough from the one window to give me a clear view of the jars, withtheir nice white labels, and more than once I did--I blush to confessit--I did put my fingers into a peach jar and help myself topreserves. I was old enough to know better; I resisted the temptationa great many days, but one unlucky morning I espied Dunie Fostercoming up from the cellar with jelly stains on her white apron, andthat set me to thinking.

  "Ah, ha; Dunie eats perserves, and looks just as innocent's a lamb!Folks think she's better 'n me, but she isn't, she's a_make-believer_. I wonder if it's dreadful wicked to take perserves?Prehaps auntie spects us to eat 'em. Any way, Fel Allen never gets putdown cellar, and it's real mean; and if I have to stay down there thewhole time I ought to have something to make me feel better; I feelreal hungry, and they ought to _spect_ I'd eat perserves." So I didit; partly because Dunie did, partly because Fel wasn't punished andought to be, and partly because it was most likely auntie put 'emthere a-purpose! I think I never did it but three times; and the thirdtime it was thoroughwort and molasses! Strong, I assure you, boileddown to a thick sirup. I had the jar at my lips, and had taken a long,deep draught, when I happened to look up, and there was aunt Persisgoing by the window, and looking straight down at me!

  I was so startled by the bitter taste in my mouth and the sight ofaunt Persis, both coming at the same time, that I gave a littlescream, and pranced round and round the cellar like a wild animal.Miss Rubie heard me, and came down to see what was the matter. She didnot ask if I had been meddling with the jars; but she must have known,for a sticky stream was trickling over my dress, and I had set thesirup down on the floor with the cover off. She bent a keen glance onme, and at the same time I saw a little twinkle in her eye. I supposeshe thought my guilt would bring its own punishment, for she probablyknew the thoroughwort would make me sick.

  "Are you ready now to be a good, quiet girl?" said she. I had beenshut down for noisiness.

  "Yes'm," said I, meekly, and followed her up stairs.

  But though my heart was heavy with shame, I could not help thinking,"What orful tastin' perserves!" and wondering if aunt Persis reallywas crazy, as Tempy Ann said she was.

  Miss Rubie had had reason to think before that some of the childrenwent to those jars, but she did not say so; she merely remarked,--

  "It is nearly noon, children; you may lay aside your books now, and,if you like, I will tell you a story."

  Everybody was pleased but me. I wanted to go home. The story was fromthe text, "Thou, God, seest me." It was about Adaline Singleton, alittle girl who took her mother's cake without leave, and her mothercounted the slices, and found her out.

  I could not look up at Miss Rubie all the while she was talking, but Inoticed Dunie Foster did. I was trying to rub that zigzag stream ofsirup off my apron; and O, how sick I grew! Would she ever stop?

  I knew God had seen me yesterday and day before, when I ate peachpreserves, and I had no doubt it was to punish me that I had beenallowed to swallow this bitter stuff to-day. But, O, if I could gohome!

  I never see that story of Adaline Singleton now among my books but itcalls up a remembrance of guilt and nausea too. I would give a greatdeal, little Fly, if I hadn't so many bad things to remember. It isbecause I hope to do you good that I am willing to tell of them. Mayyou have a purer childhood to look back upon!

  Thankful was I when school was out that noon, but I wasn't able to goagain in the afternoon; and my mother knew why!

  It was the last time I was ever put in that cellar. Miss Rubie foundanother method of punishment; and I think I can say truthfully it wasthe last time I ever took sweetmeats without leave. I did other wrongthings in plenty, but that I could never do again. When mother said Imight go to the box and get "half a dozen raisins," I got half adozen, and not a handful. Those solemn words rang in my ears,--"Thou,God, seest me,"--just as Miss Rubie had spoken them in her low, sweettones.

  For days I dared not meet aunt Persis's eye, but she treated me justthe same, often loading me down with pennyroyal and spearmint to takehome to
mother. I did not know she was near-sighted, and had not seenme drinking her thoroughwort. It was the first medicine of hers I hadever taken, and that bitter taste in my mouth decided me, uponreflection, that she _was_ crazy. As it proved, I was not very farwrong.

  There had been something the matter with her wits for two or threeyears, and she was growing queerer and queerer. People began to wonderwhat made her want to look at their tongues so much. She said now ifshe met people on her way to church, "Please, put out your tongue;"and sometimes said it on the very church steps. This was queer; butthey did not know how much queerer she was at home. We children couldhave told how she came into the school-room and felt all our pulses,but we thought Miss Rubie would be sorry to have us tell.

  Her little boy Zed, about four years old, had to take her dreadfulmedicines, of course, for medicine was the very thing auntie was crazyabout. He carried some of his doses into school to drink at recess,and we all pitied him. Sometimes he ate dry senna and raisins mixed ona plate, and we teased away the raisins, and he had to chew the senna"bare." He cried then, and said we ought to help eat that too, and wedid. I thought it had a crazy taste, like the thoroughwort, and wassorry Zed had a liver inside him, and wished that his mother hadn'tfound it out.

  Miss Rubie was very good and patient with us, but we began to dread togo to school. I overheard Tempy Ann say to Polly Whiting,--

  "The story is, that Mrs. Adams (aunt Persis) steamed her own motherout of the world."

  "You don't say so!" said Polly. "How long since?"

  "About two years ago. The poor old lady sailed off very easy, with ajug of hot water close to her nose."

  That frightened us dreadfully. We knew aunt Persis steamed Zed, forhe said so; and what if she should steam us all out of the world withjugs of hot water close to our noses? And she was always trying tomake Fel swallow something bad, and always talking about her whiteface. "Tell your mother to let me have you for a month," said she,"and I'll put roses into your cheeks, my dear."

  Fel was so afraid that she trembled when we went into the house,expecting auntie would spring out upon her, and set her over the fireto steam. But she was such a patient, still little thing that shenever complained, even to her own mother, and I was too rattle-brainedto think much about it, though if I myself had expected to be cooked,the whole town would have heard of it.

  Zed grew paler and paler. I asked Miss Rubie, privately, "what madehis mother boil him?" And she smiled, though not as if she was happy,and said,--

  "She doesn't boil him when I can help it, dear."

  About this time I heard my mother say to my father she wished uncleJohn was at home, for auntie acted so odd, and her eyes looked sostrange.

  "Yes, mamma," cried I, rushing in from the nursery, "she boils herlittle boy, and she wants to boil Fel. I should think you'd tell Fel'smother, for Fel dassent tell, she's so scared."

  I think mother went right to Madam Allen with what I said, for thenext night, when I was at Squire Allen's, and Fel was sitting in hermamma's lap, Madam Allen said,--

  "Why didn't my little girl let me know she was afraid of Mrs. Adams?When darling feels unhappy about anything she must always tellmamma."

  Fel was so glad somebody was going to protect her, that she threw herarms about her mother's neck, and sobbed for joy. "Don't let her hurtZed either," said she. She was such a dear little soul, alwaysthinking about others.

  "Now tell me if that boy has got a name?" spoke up grandpa Harrington.That was what he always asked when any one spoke of Zed.

  "Yes, sir; his name is Rosalvin Colvazart," said Madam Allen. "Zed isfor short."

  "I know, I know, Rose Albert Coffeepot," laughed grandpa. He had saidthat fifty times, but he always thought it a new joke.

  That night, while we were all soundly asleep, we were suddenlyroused by the sharp ringing of the door-bell. Squire Allen went to thedoor, and there, on the steps, stood our dear teacher, Martha Rubie,in her night dress, with a shawl over her shoulders.

  "O, Mr. Allen! O, madam! come quick! My sister is worse. She hassteamed Zed, and she was trying him with a fork; but I locked him intothe closet. Do come and take care of her. She is putting lobelia downthe cow's throat."

  Fel and I screamed, and Tempy Ann had to come in and soothe us. Felwasn't willing her father and mother should go; but I said, "Don't yoube afraid; aunt Persis won't boil 'em; they're too big to get into thekettle."

  Tempy Ann laughed in her shaky way--which always made me provoked.

  "Tempy Ann," cried I, jumping over the foot-board, "I guess _you_wouldn't laugh if _you_ should be doubled up, and put over the stove!You needn't think Fel and I are babies, and don' know what you saidabout her boiling her mother up the chimney, with a jug on her nose;but we do know, and it's so, and sober true, for we've seen thekettle."

  But it wasn't of the least use to reason with Tempy Ann when she hadone of those shaky spells. So silly as she was at such times, I almostwished she could be boiled half a minute, to see if it wouldn't soberher down.

  It seems aunt Persis had really become very crazy indeed; and thatdear, sweet, patient, good Martha had been trying to keep it a secret;but it couldn't be done any longer. She acted so badly that Marthacouldn't manage her. When Squire Allen went into the house, she wasstirring "Number Six" into some corn-meal for the hens, and was veryangry with him because he made her leave off and go to bed.

  Father and mother had to take care of her till uncle John came; butshe was as sick as she was crazy, and did not live till October.

  I remember looking at her beautiful, white face, the first I ever sawin death, and thinking,--

  "How glad auntie is to be so still."

  No one told me she was tired, but somehow I knew it, for she wasalways flying about in such a hurry, and I was sure it must rest hervery much to go to sleep. I received then a pleasant, peacefulimpression of death, which I never forgot.

  Miss Rubie staid at Squire Allen's for some time, and taught Fel. Nowshe is a person whom you all know very well; but I shall not tell whoshe is till by and by.