Kate Wiggin - The Story of Waitstill Baxter стр 6.

Yes, she answered uncertainly.

Dont you remember I got a free ride down-river one Friday and came home for Sunday, just to surprise you? And when I got here I found you ill in bed, with Mrs. Mason and Dr. Perry taking care of you. You could not speak, you were so ill, but they told me you had been up in New Hampshire to see your sister, that she had died, and that you had brought back her boy, who was only four years old. That was Rod. I took him into bed with me that night, poor, homesick little fellow, and, as you know, mother, hes never left us since.

I didnt remember I had a sister. Is she dead, Ivory? asked Mrs. Boynton vaguely.

If she were not dead, do you suppose you would have kept Rodman with us when we hadnt bread enough for our own two mouths, mother? questioned Ivory patiently.

No, of course not. I cant think how I can be so forgetful. Its worse sometimes than others. It s worse to-day because I knew the Mayflowers were blooming and that reminded me it was time for your father to come home; you must forgive me, dear, and will you excuse me if I sit in the kitchen awhile? The window by the side door looks out towards the road, and if I put a candle on the sill it shines quite a distance. The lane is such a long one, and your father was always a sad stumbler in the dark! I shouldnt like him to think I wasnt looking for him when hes been gone since January.

Ivorys pipe went out, and his book slipped from his knee unnoticed.

His mother was more confused than usual, but she always was when spring came to remind her of her husbands promise. Somehow, well used as he was to her mental wanderings, they made him uneasy to-night. His father had left home on a fancied mission, a duty he believed to be a revelation given by God through Jacob Cochrane. The farm did not miss him much at first, Ivory reflected bitterly, for since his fanatical espousal of Cochranism his fathers interest in such mundane matters as household expenses had diminished month by month until they had no meaning for him at all. Letters to wife and boy had come at first, but after six monthsduring which he had written from many places, continually deferring the date of his return-they had ceased altogether. The rest was silence. Rumors of his presence here or there came from time to time, but though Parson Lane and Dr. Perry did their best, none of them were ever substantiated.

Where had those years of wandering been passed, and had they all been given even to an imaginary and fantastic service of God? Was his father dead? If he were alive, what could keep him from writing? Nothing but a very strong reason, or a very wrong one, so his son thought, at times.

Since Ivory had grown to mans estate, he understood that in the later days of Cochranes preaching, his visions, inspirations, and revelations concerning the marriage bond were a trifle startling from the old-fashioned, orthodox point of view. His most advanced disciples were to hold themselves in readiness to renounce their former vows and seek spiritual consorts, sometimes according to his advice, sometimes as their inclinations prompted.

Had Aaron Boynton forsaken, willingly, the wife of his youth, the mother of his boy? If so, he must have realized to what straits he was subjecting them. Ivory had not forgotten those first few years of grinding poverty, anxiety, and suspense. His mothers mind had stood the strain bravely, but it gave way at last; not, however, until that fatal winter journey to New Hampshire, when cold, exposure, and fatigue did their worst for her weak body. Religious enthusiast, exalted and impressionable, a natural mystic, she had probably always been, far more so in temperament, indeed, than her husband; but although she left home on that journey a frail and heartsick woman, she returned a different creature altogether, blurred and confused in mind, with clouded memory and irrational fancies.

She must have given up hope, just then, Ivory thought, and her love was so deep that when it was uprooted the soil came with it. Now hope had returned because the cruel memory had faded altogether. She sat by the kitchen window in gentle expectation, watching, always watching.

And this is the way many of Ivory Boyntons evenings were spent, while the heart of him, the five-and-twenty-year-old heart of him, was longing to feel the beat of another heart, a girls heart only a mile or more away. The ice in Saco Water had broken up and the white blocks sailed majestically down towards the sea; sap was mounting and the elm trees were budding; the trailing arbutus was blossoming in the woods; the robins had come;-everything was announcing the spring, yet Ivory saw no changing seasons in his future; nothing but winter, eternal winter there!

V. PATIENCE AND IMPATIENCE

PATTY had been searching for eggs in the barn chamber, and coming down the ladder from the haymow spied her father washing the wagon by the well-side near the shed door. Cephas Cole kept store for him at meal hours and whenever trade was unusually brisk, and the Baxter yard was so happily situated that Old Foxy could watch both house and store.

There never was a good time to ask Deacon Baxter a favor, therefore this moment would serve as well as any other, so, approaching him near enough to be heard through the rubbing and splashing, but no nearer than was necessary Patty said:

Father, can I go up to Ellen Wilsons this afternoon and stay to tea? I wont start till Ive done a good days work and Ill come home early.

What do you want to go gallivantin to the neighbors for? I never saw anything like the girls nowadays; highty-tighty, flauntin, traipsin, triflin trollops, evry one of em, thats what they are, and Ellen Wilsons one of the triflinest. Youre old enough now to stay to home where you belong and make an effort to earn your board and clothes, which you cant, even if you try.

Spunk, real, Simon-pure spunk, started somewhere in Patty and coursed through her blood like wine.

If a girls old enough to stay at home and work, I should think she was old enough to go out and play once in a while. Patty was still too timid to make this remark more than a courteous suggestion, so far as its tone was concerned.

Dont answer me back; youre full of new tricks, and youve got to stop em, right where you are, or therell be trouble. You were whistlin just now up in the barn chamber; thats one of the things I wont have round my premises,a whistlin girl.

T was a Sabbath-School hymn that I was whistling! This with a creditable imitation of defiance.

That dont make it any better. Sing your hymns if you must make a noise while youre workin.

Its the same mouth that makes the whistle and sings the song, so I dont see why ones any wickeder than the other.

You dont have to see, replied the Deacon grimly; all you have to do is to mind when youre spoken to. Now run long bout your work.

Cant I go up to Ellens, then?

Whats goin on up there?

Just a frolic. Theres always a good time at Ellens, and I would so like the sight of a big, rich house now and then!

Just a frolic. Land o Goshen, hear the girl! Sight of a big, rich house, indeed!Will there be any boys at the party?

I spose so, or t wouldnt be a frolic, said Patty with awful daring; but there wont be many; only a few of Marks friends.

Well, there aint goin to be no more argyfyin! I wont have any girl o mine frolickin with boys, so thats the end of it. Youre kind o crazy lately, riggin yourself out with a ribbon here and a flower there, and pullin your hair down over your ears. Why do you want to cover your ears up? What are they for?