CHAPTER XI.
SUSY'S BIRTHDAY.
Days and weeks passed. The snowflakes, which had fallen from time totime, and kept themselves busy making a patchwork quilt for motherEarth, now melted away, and the white quilt was torn into shreds. Thebare ground was all there was to be seen, except now and then a dot ofthe white coverlet. It was Spring, and everything began to wake up. Thesun wasn't half so sleepy, and didn't walk off over the western hills inthe middle of the afternoon to take a nap.
The sleighing was gone long ago. The roads were dismal swamps. "Wings"would have a rest till "settled going." Susy's skates were hung up in agreen baize bag, to dream away the summer.
The mocking-bird performed his daily duties of entertaining the family,besides learning a great many new songs. Susy said she tried not to sether heart on that bird.
"I'll not give him a name," she added, "for then he'll be sure to die!My first canary was Bertie, and I named the others Berties, as fast asthey died off. The last one was so yellow that I couldn't help callinghim Dandelion; but I wish I hadn't, for then, perhaps, he'd have lived."
Susy had caught some whimsical notions about "signs and wonders." It isstrange how some intelligent children will believe in superstitiousstories! But as soon as Susy's parents discovered that her young headhad been stored with such worse than foolish ideas, they were not slowto teach her better.
She had a great fright, about this time, concerning Freddy Jackson. Hewas one of the few children who were allowed to play in "Prudy'ssitting-room." He did not distract the tired nerves of "Rosy Frances,"as her cousin Percy and other boys did, by sudden shouts and loudlaughing. Prudy had a vague feeling that he was one of the little onesthat God thought best to punish by "snipping his heart." She knew whatit was to have _her_ heart snipped, and had a sympathy with littleFreddy.
Susy loved Freddy, too. Perhaps Percy was right, when he said that Susyloved everything that was dumb; and I am not sure but her tender heartwould have warmed to him all the more if he had been stone-blind, aswell as deaf.
Freddy had a drunken father, and a sad home; but, for all that, he wasnot entirely miserable. It is only the wicked who are miserable. Thekind Father in heaven has so planned it that there is something pleasantin everybody's life.
Freddy had no more idea what _sound_ is than we have of the angels inheaven; but he could see, and there is so much to be seen! Here is agreat, round world, full of beauty and wonder. It stands ready to belooked at. Freddy's ears must be forever shut out from pleasant sound;but his bright eyes were wide open, seeing all that was made to beseen.
He loved to go to Mrs. Parlin's, for there he was sure to be greetedpleasantly; and he understood the language of smiles as well as anybody.
When grandma Read saw him coming she would say,--
"Now, Susan, thee'd better lay aside thy book, for most likely the poorlittle fellow will want to _talk_."
And Susy did lay aside her book. She had learned so many lessons thiswinter in self-denial!
These "silent talks" were quite droll. Little Dotty almost understoodsomething about them; that is, when they used the signs: the alphabetwas more than she could manage. When Freddy wanted to talk about Dotty,he made a sign for a dimple in each cheek. He smoothed his hair when hemeant Susy, and made a waving motion over his head for Prudy, whose hairwas full of ripples.
Prudy said she had wrinkled hair, and she knew it; but the wrinkles"wouldn't come out."
Grandma Read sat one evening by the coal-grate, holding a letter in herhand, and looking into the glowing fire with a thoughtful expression.Susy came and sat near her, resting one arm on her grandma's lap, andtrying in various ways to attract her attention.
"Why, grandma," said she, "I've spoken to you three times; but I can'tget you to answer or look at me."
"What does thee want, my dear? I will try to attend to thee."
"O, grandma, there are ever so many things I want to say, now mother isout of the room, and father hasn't got home. I must tell somebody, or myheart will break; and you know, grandma dear, I can talk to you soeasy."
"Can thee? Then go on, Susy; what would thee like to say?"
"O, two or three things. Have you noticed, grandma, that I've been justas sober as can be?"
"For how long, Susan?"
"O, all day; I've felt as if I couldn't but just live!"
Grandma Read did not smile at this. She knew very well that such a childas Susy is capable of intense suffering.
"Well, Susan, is it about thy sister Prudence?"
"O, no, grandma! she's getting; better; isn't she?"
"Are thy lessons at school too hard for thee, Susan?"
Mrs. Read saw that Susy was very reluctant about opening her heart,although she had said she could talk to her grandmother "so easy."
"No, indeed, grandma; my lessons are not too hard. I'm a real goodscholar--one of the best in school for my age."
This was a fact. Some people would have chidden Susy for it; but Mrs.Read reflected that the child was only telling the simple truth, and hadno idea of boasting. She was not a little girl who would intrude suchremarks about herself upon strangers. But when she and her grandma weretalking together confidentially, she thought it made all the differencein the world; as indeed it did.
"I have a great deal to trouble me," said Susy, and the "evening-blue"of her eyes clouded over, till there were signs of a shower. "I thoughtmy pony would make me happy as long as I lived; but it hasn't. One thingthat I feel bad about is--well, it's turning over a new leaf. When NewYear's comes, I'm going to do it, and don't; so I wait till my birthday,and then I don't. It seems as if I'd tried about a thousand New Yearsand birthdays to turn over that leaf."
Grandma smiled, but did not interrupt Susy.
"I think I should be real good," continued the child, "if it wasn't suchhard work. I can't be orderly, grandma--not much; and then Dotty upsetseverything. Sometimes I have to hold my breath to keep patient.
"Well, grandma, my birthday comes to-morrow, the 8th of April. I likeit well enough; only there's one reason why I don't like it at all, andthat is a Bible reason. It's so dreadful that I can't bear to say it toyou," said Susy, shuddering, and lowering her voice to a whisper; "Idon't want to grow up, for I shall have to marry Freddy Jackson."
Grandma tried to look serious.
"Who put such a foolish idea into thy head, child?"
"Cousin Percy told me last night," answered Susy, solemnly. "How can youlaugh when it's all in the Bible, grandma? I never told anybody before.Wait; I'll show you the verse. I've put a mark at the place."
Susy brought her Bible to her grandmother, and, opening it at thethirty-first chapter of Proverbs, pointed, with a trembling finger, tothe eighth verse, which Mrs. Read read aloud,--
"Open thy mouth for the dumb in the cause of all such as are appointedto destruction."
"Now Percy says that's a sure sign! I told him, O, dear! Freddy ought tomarry a dumb woman; that would be _properest_; but Percy saysno--anything has got to 'come to pass' when it's _foreordinationed_!"
"And could thee really believe such foolishness, my sensible littleSusan? Does thee suppose the good Lord ever meant that we should readhis Bible as if it were a wicked dream-book?"
"Then you don't think I shall have to marry Freddy Jackson," cried Susy,immensely relieved. "I'm so glad I told you! I felt so sober all day,only nobody noticed it, and I was ashamed to tell!"
"It is a good thing for thee to tell thy little troubles to thy olderfriends, Susan: thee'll almost always find it so," said grandma Read,stroking Susy's hair.
"Now, my child, I have a piece of news for thee, if thee is ready tohear it: thy cousin, Grace Clifford, has a little sister."
"A baby sister? A real sister? Does mother know it?"
"Yes, thy mother knows it."
"But how _could_ you keep it to yourself so long?"
"Thee thinks good news is hard to keep, does thee? Well, thee shall bethe first to tell thy father when he comes
home."
Susy heard steps on the door-stone, and rushed out, with the joyfulstory on her lips. It proved to be not her father, but callers, who werejust ringing the bell; and they heard Susy's exclamation,--
"O, have you heard? Grace has a new sister, a baby sister, as true asyou live!" with the most provoking coolness.
But when Mr. Parlin came, he was sufficiently interested in the news tosatisfy even Susy.
CHAPTER XII.
FAREWELL.
Prudy was really getting better. Mrs. Parlin said she should trust aphysician more next time. The doctor declared that all the severe painPrudy had suffered was really necessary.
"Believe me, my dear madam," said he, "when the poor child hascomplained most, she has in fact been making most progress towardshealth. When the sinews are 'knitting together,' as we call it, then theagony is greatest."
This was very comforting to Mrs. Parlin, who thought she would not bediscouraged so easily again; she would always believe that it is"darkest just before day."
There was really everything to hope for Prudy. The doctor thought thatby the end of three months she would walk as well as ever. He said shemight make the effort now, every day, to bear her weight on her feet.She tried this experiment first with her father and mother on each sideto support her; but it was not many days before she could stand firmlyon her right foot, and bear a little weight on her left one, which didnot now, as formerly, drag, or, as she had said, "_more_ than touch thefloor." By and by she began to scramble about on the carpet on allfours, partly creeping, partly pushing herself along.
It was surprising how much pleasure Prudy took in going back to theseways of babyhood.
Faint blush roses began to bloom in her cheeks as soon as she could takea little exercise and go out of doors. Her father bought a littlecarriage just suitable for the pony, and in this she rode every morning,her mother or Percy driving; for Mrs. Parlin thought it hardly safe totrust Susy with such a precious encumbrance as this dear little sister.
She had been willing that Susy should manage Wings in a sleigh, but in acarriage the case was quite different; for, though in a sleigh theremight be even more danger of overturning, there was not as much dangerof getting hurt. Indeed, Susy's sleigh had tipped over once or twice inturning too sharp a corner, and Susy had fallen out, but had instantlyjumped up again, laughing.
She would have driven in her new carriage to Yarmouth and back again, orperhaps to Bath, if she had been permitted. She was a reckless littlehorsewoman, afraid of nothing, and for that very reason could not betrusted alone.
But there was no difficulty in finding companions. Percy pretended tostudy book-keeping, but was always ready for a ride. Flossy was notsteady enough to be trusted with the reins, but Ruth Turner was ascareful a driver as need be; though Susy laughed because she held thereins in both hands, and looked so terrified.
She said it did no good to talk with Ruth when she was driving; shenever heard a word, for she was always watching to see if a carriagewas coming, and talking to herself, to make sure she remembered whichwas her right hand, so she could "turn to the right, as the lawdirects."
Prudy enjoyed the out-of-doors world once more, and felt like a bird letout of a cage. And so did Susy, for she thought she had had a dullseason of it, and fully agreed with Prudy, who spoke of it as the "slowwinter."
But now it was the quick spring, the live spring. The brooks began togossip; the birds poured out their hearts in song, and the dumb treesexpressed their joy in leaves.
"The bobolink, on the mullein-stalk, Would rattle away like a sweet girl's talk."
The frogs took severe colds, but gave concerts a little way out of thecity every evening. The little flowers peeped up from their beds, asNorah said, "like babies asking to be took;" and Susy took them;whenever she could find them, you may be sure, and looked joyfully intotheir faces. She could almost say,--
"And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes."
She said, "I don't suppose they know much, but _perhaps_ they knowenough to have a good time: who knows?"
Susy took long walks to Westbrook, and farther, coming home tired out,but loaded with precious flowers. There were plenty of friends to givethem to her from their early gardens: broad-faced crocuses, jonquils,and lilies of the valley, and by and by lilacs, with "purple spikes."
She gathered snowdrops, "the first pale blossoms of the unripenedyear," and May-flowers, pink and white, like sea-shells, or like"cream-candy," as Prudy said. These soft little blossoms blushed sosweetly on the same leaf with such old experienced leaves! Susy said,"it made her think of little bits of children who hadn't any mother, andlived with their grandparents."
Dotty was almost crazy with delight when she had a "new pair o' boots,and a pair o' shaker," and was allowed to toddle about on the pavementin the sunshine. She had a green twig or a switch to flourish, and couldnow cry, "Hullelo!" to those waddling ducks, and hear them reply,"Quack! quack!" without having such a trembling fear that some sternNorah, or firm mamma, would rush out bareheaded, and drag her into thehouse, like a little culprit.
It was good times for Dotty Dimple, and good times for the whole family.Spring had come, and Prudy was getting well. There was a great deal tothank God for!
It is an evening in the last of May. A bit of a moon, called "the newmoon," is peeping in at the window. It shines over Susy's rightshoulder, she says. Susy is reading, Prudy is walking slowly across thefloor, and Dotty Dimple is whispering to her kitty, telling her to godown cellar, and catch the naughty rats while they are asleep. Whenkitty winks, Dotty thinks it the same as if she said,--
"I hear you, little Miss Dotty: I'm going."
I think perhaps this is a good time to bid the three little girlsgood-by, or, as dear grandma Read would say, "Farewell!"
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