The brick cottage on the hilltop had grown only a little shabbier. Deacon Foxwell Baxter still slammed its door behind him every morning at seven oclock and, without any such cheerful conventions as good-byes to his girls, walked down to the bridge to open his store.
The day, properly speaking, had opened when Waitstill and Patience had left their beds at dawn, built the fire, fed the hens and turkeys, and prepared the breakfast, while the Deacon was graining the horse and milking the cows. Such minor chores as carrying water from the well, splitting kindling, chopping pine, or bringing wood into the kitchen, were left to Waitstill, who had a strong back, or, if she had not, had never been unwise enough to mention the fact in her fathers presence. The almanac day, however, which opened with sunrise, had nothing to do with the real human day, which always began when Mr. Baxter slammed the door behind him, and reached its high noon of delight when he disappeared from view.
Hes opening the store shutters! chanted Patience from the heights of a kitchen chair by the window. Now hes taken his cane and beaten off the Boynton puppy that was sitting on the steps as usual,I dont mean Ivorys dog (here the girl gave a quick glance at her sister), but Rodmans little yellow cur. Rodman must have come down to the bridge on some errand for Ivory. Isnt it odd, when that dog has all the other store steps to sit upon, he should choose fathers, when every bone in his body must tell him how father hates him and the whole Boynton family.
Father has no real cause that I ever heard of; but some dogs never know when theyve had enough beating, nor some people either. said Waitstill, speaking from the pantry.
Dont be gloomy when its my birthday, Sis!Now hes opened the door and kicked the cat! All is ready for business at the Baxter store.
I wish you werent quite so free with your tongue, Patty.
Somebody must talk, retorted the girl, jumping down from the chair and shaking back her mop of red-gold curls. Ill put this hateful, childish, round comb in and out just once more, then it will disappear forever. This very after-noon up goes my hair!
You know it will be of no use unless you braid it very plainly and neatly. Father will take notice and make you smooth it down.
Father hasnt looked me square in the face for years; besides, my hair wont braid, and nothing can make it quite plain and neat, thank goodness! Let us be thankful for small mercies, as Jed Morrill said when the lightning struck his mother-in-law and skipped his wife.
Patty, I will not permit you to repeat those tavern stories; they are not seemly on the lips of a girl! And Waitstill came out of the pantry with a shadow of disapproval in her eyes and in her voice.
Patty flung her arms round her sister tempestuously, and pulled out the waves of her hair so that it softened her face.Ill be good, she said, and oh, Waity! lets invent some sort of cheap happiness for to-day! I shall never be seventeen again and we have so many troubles! Lets put one of the cows in the horses stall and see what will happen! Or lets spread up our beds with the head at the foot and put the chest of drawers on the other side of the room, or lets make candy! Do you think father would miss the molasses if we only use a cupful? Couldnt we strain the milk, but leave the churning and the dishes for an hour or two, just once? If you say yes I can think of something wonderful to do!
What is it? asked Waitstill, relenting at the sight of the girls eager, roguish face.
PIERCE MY EARS! cried Patty. Say you will!
Oh! Patty, Patty, I am afraid you are given over to vanity! I darent let you wear eardrops without fathers permission.
Why not? Lots of church members wear them, so it cant be a mortal sin. Father is against all adornments, but thats because he doesnt want to buy them. Youve always said I should have your mothers coral pendants when I was old enough. Here I am, seventeen today, and Dr. Perry says I am already a well-favored young woman. I can pull my hair over my ears for a few days and when the holes are all made and healed, even father cannot make me fill them up again. Besides, Ill never wear the earrings at home!
Oh! my dear, my dear! sighed Waitstill, with a half-sob in her voice. If only I was wise enough to know how we could keep from these little deceits, yet have any liberty or comfort in life!
We cant! The Lord couldnt expect us to bear all that we bear, exclaimed Patty, without our trying once in a while to have a good time in our own way. We never do a thing that we are ashamed of, or that other girls dont do every day in the week; only our pleasures always have to be taken behind fathers back. Its only me thats ever wrong, anyway, for you are always an angel. Its a burning shame and you only twenty-one yourself. Ill pierce your ears if you say so, and let you wear your own coral drops!
No, Patty; Ive outgrown those longings years ago. When your mother died and left father and you and the house to me, my girlhood died, too, though I was only thirteen.
It was only your inside girlhood that died, insisted Patty stoutly, The outside is as fresh as the paint on Uncle Bartys new ell. Youve got the loveliest eyes and hair in Riverboro, and you know it; besides, Ivory Boynton would tell you so if you didnt. Come and bore my ears, theres a darling!
Ivory Boynton never speaks a word of my looks, nor a word that father and all the world mightnt hear. And Waitstill flushed.
Then its because hes shy and silent and has so many troubles of his own that he doesnt dare say anything. When my hair is once up and the coral pendants are swinging in my ears, I shall expect to hear something about MY looks, I can tell you. Waity, after all, though we never have what we want to eat, and never a decent dress to our backs, nor a young man to cross the threshold, I wouldnt change places with Ivory Boynton, would you? Here Patty swept the hearth vigorously with a turkey wing and added a few corncobs to the fire.
Waitstill paused a moment in her task of bread-kneading. Well, she answered critically, at least we know where our father is.
We do, indeed! We also know that he is thoroughly alive!
And though people do talk about him, they cant say the things they say of Master Aaron Boynton. I dont believe father would ever run away and desert us.
I fear not, said Patty. I wish the angels would put the idea into his head, though, of course, it wouldnt be the angels; theyd be above it. It would have to be the Old Driver, as Jed Morrill calls the Evil One; but whoever did it, the result would be the same: we should be deserted, and live happily ever after. Oh! to be deserted, and left with you alone on this hilltop, what joy it would be!
Waitstill frowned, but did not interfere further with Pattys intemperate speech. She knew that she was simply serving as an escape-valve, and that after the steam was let off she would be more rational.
Of course, we are motherless, continued Patty wistfully, but poor Ivory is worse than motherless.
No, not worse, Patty, said Waitstill, taking the bread-board and moving towards the closet. Ivory loves his mother and she loves him, with all the mind she has left! She has the best blood of New England flowing in her veins, and I suppose it was a great come down for her to marry Aaron Boynton, clever and gifted though he was. Now Ivory has to protect her, poor, daft, innocent creature, and hide her away from the gossip of the village. He is surely the best of sons, Ivory Boynton!