Then theres another thing. Ive seen folks piece and piece, but when it come to puttin the blocks together and quiltin and linin it, theyd give out; and thats like folks that do a little here and a little there, but their lives aint of much use after all, any moren a lot o loose pieces o patchwork. And then while youre livin your life, it looks pretty much like a jumble o quilt pieces before theyre put together; but when you git through with it, or pretty nigh through, as I am now, youll see the use and the purpose of everything in it. Everythingll be in its right place jest like the squares in this four-patch, and one piece may be pretty and another one ugly, but it all looks right when you see it finished and joined together.
Did I say that every pattern was represented? No, there was one notable omission. Not a single crazy quilt was there in the collection. I called Aunt Janes attention to this lack.
Child, she said, I used to say there wasnt anything I couldnt do if I made up my mind to it. But I hadnt seen a crazy quilt then. The first one I ever seen was up at Danville at Mary Frances, and Henrietta says, Now, grandma, youve got to make a crazy quilt; youve made every other sort that ever was heard of. And she brought me the pieces and showed me how to baste em on the square, and said shed work the fancy stitches around em for me. Well, I set there all the mornin tryin to fix up that square, and the more I tried, the uglier and crookeder the thing looked. And finally I says: Here, child, take your pieces. If I was to make this the way you want me to, theyd be a crazy quilt and a crazy woman, too.
Aunt Jane was laying the folded quilts in neat piles here and there about the room. There was a look of unspeakable satisfaction on her face the look of the creator who sees his completed work and pronounces it good.
Ive been a hard worker all my life, she said, seating herself and folding her hands restfully, but most all my work has been the kind that perishes with the usin, as the Bible says. Thats the discouragin thing about a womans work. Milly Amos used to say that if a woman was to see all the dishes that she had to wash before she died, piled up before her in one pile, shed lie down and die right then and there. Ive always had the name o bein a good housekeeper, but when Im dead and gone there aint anybody goin to think o the floors Ive swept, and the tables Ive scrubbed, and the old clothes Ive patched, and the stockins Ive darned. Abram might a remembered it, but he aint here. But when one o my grandchildren or great-grandchildren sees one o these quilts, theyll think about Aunt Jane, and, wherever I am then, Ill know I aint forgotten.
I reckon everybody wants to leave somethin behind thatll last after theyre dead and gone. It dont look like its worth while to live unless you can do that. The Bible says folks rest from their labors, and their works do follow them, but that aint so. They go, and maybe they do rest, but their works stay right here, unless theyre the sort that dont outlast the usin. Now, some folks has money to build monuments with great, tall, marble pillars, with angels on top of em, like you see in Cave Hill and them big city buryin-grounds. And some folks can build churches and schools and hospitals to keep folks in mind of em, but all the work Ive got to leave behind me is jest these quilts, and sometimes, when Im settin here, workin with my caliker and gingham pieces, Ill finish off a block, and I laugh and say to myself, Well, heres another stone for the monument.
I reckon you think, child, that a caliker or a worsted quilt is a curious sort of a monument bout as perishable as the sweepin and scrubbin and mendin. But if folks values things rightly, and knows how to take care of em, there aint many things thatll last longern a quilt. Why, Ive got a blue and white counterpane that my mothers mother spun and wove, and there aint a sign o givin out in it yet. Im goin to will that to my granddaughter that lives in Danville, Mary Frances oldest child. She was down here last summer, and I was lookin over my things and packin em away, and she happened to see that counterpane and says she, Grandma, I want you to will me that. And says I: What do you want with that old thing, honey? You know you wouldnt sleep under such a counterpane as that. And says she, No, but Id hang it up over my parlor door for a
Portière[26]? I suggested, as Aunt Jane hesitated for the unaccustomed word.
Thats it, child. Somehow I cant ricollect these new-fangled words, any moren I can understand these new-fangled ways. Whod ever a thought that folksd go to stringin up bed-coverins in their doors? And says I to Janie, You can hang your great-grandmothers counterpane up in your parlor door if you want to, but, says I, dont you ever make a door-curtain out o one o my quilts. But la! the way things turn around, if I was to come back fifty years from now, like as not Id find em usin my quilts for window-curtains or door-mats.