_ AND now began for each member of the family at Outpost a new and
active life.
Kitty, who, young as she was, had already achieved reputation as a
notable housekeeper, found quite enough to attend to in domestic
matters, and, with Mehitable's help and counsel, soon had all the
interests and nearly all the comforts of New-England farm-life
established in her Western home. Even the marigolds her mother had
always raised as a flavoring to broths; and the catnip, motherwort,
peppermint, and tansy, grown and dried as sovereign remedies in case
of illness; and the parsley, sage, and marjoram, to be used in
various branches of cookery,--flourished in their garden-bed under
Kitty's fostering care; while poor Silas Ross was fairly worried, in
spite of himself, into digging and roofing an ice-cellar in the
intervals of his more important duties.
"Now we'll see, another summer, if we can't have some butter that's
like butter, and not like soft-soap," remarked Kitty complacently,
when the unhappy Silas announced his task complete.
"And now I hope I can sleep in my bed o' nights without hearing
'Ice-house, ice-house!' till I'm sick o' the sound of ice," muttered
Silas, walking away.
It is not to be averred, however, that all this thrift was
established without much commotion or many stormy scenes; and, not
unfrequently, Mehitable Ross announced to her husband that "she
wouldn't stan' it nohow, to be nosed round this way by a gal not so
old as herself!" And Kitty "declared to gracious" that she "never
saw such a topping piece as that Hitty Ross since she was born;"
and, if "folks undertook to work for other folks, they ought to be
willing to do the way they were told;" and she'd "rather do the
whole alone than keep round after that contrary creature, seeing
that she didn't get the upper-hands as soon as her back was turned!"
But Dora, without appearing to listen or to look, heard all and saw
all. Dora, cheerful, energetic, and calm, knew how to heal, without
appearing to notice the wound; had a faculty, all her own, of
leading the mind, vexed with a thousand trifles, to the
contemplation of some aim so grand, some thought so high, some love
or beauty so serene, that it turned back to daily life calm and
refreshed, and strengthened to do or to endure, with new courage.
"Somehow I felt ashamed of jawing so about that wash, when Dora came
in, and put her hands into the tub, and, while she was rubbing away,
began to tell what a crop of corn we're going to have; and how the
folks down South, the freedmen and all, might have plenty to eat, if
every one did as well as we're doing," said Mehitable to her
husband.
"Yes," replied Seth: "she stood by me there in the sun as much as an
hour, and told the cutest story you ever heard about the Injins
believing that corn is a live creter, and appeared once, in the
shape of a young man named Odahmin, to one of the Injin chiefs
called Hiawatha; and they had a wrastle. Hiawatha beat, and killed
the other feller, and buried him up in the ground; but he hadn't
more 'n got him under 'fore up he come agin, or ruther some
Injin-corn come up: but they called the green leaves his clothes;
and the tossel atop, his plume; and the sprouts was his hands, each
holding an ear of corn, that he give to Hiawatha, just as a feller
that's whipped gives another his hat, you know."
"Do the Injins believe all that now?" asked Mehitable
contemptuously.
"They do so. But, I tell you, I never knew how those two rows got
hoed while she was talking: they seemed to slip right along somehow;
and, after she was gone, the time seemed dreadful short till
sundown, I was thinking so busy of what she said."
"Guess you'd been cross 'cause that cultivator didn't come; hadn't
you?" asked Mehitable slyly.
"Yes: I felt real mad all the morning about it, and was pretty
grumpy to Windsor; for I thought he might as well have sent a week
ago. But, by George! I'd like to see the feller that 'ud be grumpy
to her."
"Well, Dora," Kitty was saying at the same moment, "I'm glad you've
got home; for the first thing isn't ready for supper, and I've just
done ironing. That Hit went off home an hour ago; said her head
ached, and she'd got to get the men's supper. I do declare, I'd like
to shake that woman till her teeth rattled; and I believe I'll do it
some day!"
"How beautifully the clothes look, Kitty! I think they bleach even
whiter here than they used to in the old drying yard. But I am sorry
you ironed that white waist of mine: I was going to do it myself.
Now, Sunshine, come and tell Aunt Kitty about the woodchuck and her
baby that we saw; and how we caught little chucky, as you called
him; and all the rest."
"Dear me! I can't stop. Well, come and sit in my lap, Dolly, and
tell if you want to. Dora, do sit and rest a minute: you look all
tired out."
"Oh, no! but Karl is, I am afraid. He walked away out behind the
wheat-lot this afternoon to see to setting some traps for the poor
little things that come to eat it. I never saw such a boy when there
is any thing to be done. He goes right at it, no matter what lies
between."
"You're right there, Dora; and he always was so from a child. Well,
Dolly, what's the story?"
"Don't call me Dolly, please," said the little girl coaxingly.
"Well, Dolce, then," said Kitty, smiling with renewed good-nature.
And while Sunshine, all unconsciously, completed by her prattle the
cure that Dora had begun, the latter quietly and rapidly finished
the preparations for tea.
As for Sunshine, never did a child so well deserve her name. In the
house or on the prairie, running with Argus, walking demurely beside
Karl, or riding behind Dora upon the stout little pony reserved for
the use of the young mistress of the place, it was always as a gleam
of veritable sunshine that she came; and no heart so dark, or temper
so gloomy, as to resist her sweet influence. Constant exercise and
fresh air, proper food, and the rigid sanitary laws established by
Dora, had brought to the child's cheek a richer bloom than it had
ever known before; while her blue eyes seemed two sparkling
fountains of joy, and a vivid life danced and glittered even among
her sunny curls. Lithe and straight, and strong of limb too, grew
our slender little Cerito; and, although every motion was still one
of grace, it was now the assured grace of strength, instead of that
of fragility. She danced too, but it was with the west wind, who,
rough companion that he was, whirled her round and round in his
strong arms, or tossed her hair in a bright cloud across her face;
while he snatched her hat, and sent it spinning into the prairie; or
kissed the laugh from her lips, and carried it away to the wild
woods to mock at the singing-birds. Argus too-what friends he and
the child, who at first had been afraid of him, became before the
summer was through! What talks they held! How merrily they laughed
together! and how serenely Argus listened while Sunshine told him
long histories of imaginary wanderings among the clouds, in
enchanted forests, or "away beyond the blue up in the sky"!
Confidences these; for, as the narrator whispered,--
"Dora doesn't like dream-stories, and Kitty says, 'Oh, nonsense!'
and Karlo laughs: so you mustn't tell a word, old Argus." And Argus,
wagging his tail, and blinking his bright brown eyes, promised never
to tell, and faithfully kept the promise.
Perhaps it was a vague sense of loneliness in these fancies; perhaps
it was the lingering longing for something she had lost even from
her memory, and yet not wholly from her heart, where, as we all
know, linger loves for which we no longer have a name or a thought;
perhaps it was only the dim reflex of that agony consuming her
mother's heart, and the earnestness with which it longed for her:
but something there was, that, at intervals, cast a sudden shadow
over Sunshine's heart; something that made her pale and still, and
deepened the dimples at the corners of her mouth, until each might
have held a tear. At these times, she would always steal away by
herself if possible; sometimes, and especially if the stars were
out, to sit with folded hands, gazing at the sky; sometimes to lie
upon her little bed, her eyes fixed on vacancy, until the bright
tears gathered, and rolled slowly down her cheeks: but, oftenest of
all, she would call Argus, and, with one hand upon his glossy head,
wander away to the dim forest, and seated at the foot of one of
those patriarchal trees, the hound lying close beside her, would
talk to him as she never talked to human ears.
Once, Karl, returning from an expedition to a distant part of the
farm, saw her thus, and half in fun, half in curiosity, crept up
behind the great oak at whose foot she sat, and listened.
"And up there in heaven, Argus," she was saying, "it's all so
beautiful! and no one ever speaks loud or cross; and every one has
shining white clothes, and flowers on their heads; and some one is
there-I don't know-I guess it's an angel; but she's got soft hands,
and such pretty shiny hair, and eyes all full of loving me. I dream
about her sometimes; but I don't know who she is: and you mustn't
tell, Argus. Sometimes I want to die, so as to go to heaven and look
for her. Argus, do you want to go to heaven?"
The brown eyes said that Argus wished whatever she did; and Sunshine
continued:--
"Well, some day we'll go. I don't know just how; I don't believe
we'd find the way if we went now: but some day I shall know, and
then I'll tell you. Sometimes I feel so lonesome, Argus! oh, so
dreadful homesick! but I don't now. You're a real little comforter,
Argus. That's what Dora called me the other night when Kitty was
cross: and Dora cried a little when she came to bed, and didn't know
I was awake; and I kissed her just so, Argus, and so."
In the game of romps and kisses that ensued, Karl stole away, and,
after repeating the child's prattle to Dora, said thoughtfully,--
"There's something strange about her, Dora; something different from
any of us. She seems so finely and delicately made, and as if one
rude jar might destroy the whole tone of her life. If ever a
creature was formed of peculiar, instead of common clay, it is
Sunshine."
"Yes, and she must be shielded accordingly," said Dora. But, as she
walked on beside Karl, she vaguely wondered if there were not
natures as finely strung and as sensitive to suffering as
Sunshine's, but united with so reticent an exterior, and such
outward strength, as never to gain the sympathy or appreciation so
freely bestowed upon the exquisite child.
Such introspection, however, was no part of Dora's healthy
temperament; and the next moment she had plunged into a talk upon
farm-matters with her cousin, and displayed such shrewdness and
clear-sighted wisdom upon the subject, that Capt. Karl laughingly
exclaimed, as they entered the house,--
"O general! why weren't you born a man?" _