CHAPTER VII. WEEKS OF CONVALESCENCE
PLENTY OF NURSING FROM LOVING, TENDER HANDS.
WHAT days those were that followed the arrival of the boys home. InShorty's hard, rough life he had never so much as dreamed of suchimmaculate housekeeping as Mrs. Klegg's. He had hardly been in speakingdistance of such women as Si's mother and sisters. To see these bright,blithe, sweet-speeched women moving about the well-ordered house in busyperformance of their duties was a boundless revelation to him. It openedup a world of which he had as little conception as of a fairy realm. Forthe first time he began to understand things that Si had told him of hishome, yet it meant a hundredfold more to him than to Si, for Si had beenbrought up in that home. Shorty began to regard the Deacon and Si assuperior beings, and to stand in such awe of Mrs. Klegg and the girlsthat he became as tongue-tied as a bashful school-boy in their presence.It amazed him to hear Si, when the girls would teaze him, speak to themas sharply as brothers sometimes will, and just as if they were ordinarymortals.
"Si, you orter to be more careful in talkin' to your sisters," heremonstrated when they were alone.
"You've bin among rough men so long that you don't know how to talk toreal ladies."
"O, come off," said Si, petulantly. "What's a-eatin you. You don't knowthem girls as well as I do. Particularly Maria. She'll run right overyou if you let her. She's one o' the best girls that ever breathed, butyou've got to keep a tight rein on her. The feller that marries her'sgot to keep the whip-hand or she'll make him wish that he'd never binborn."
Shorty's heart bounded at the thought of any man having the unspeakablehappiness of marrying that peerless creature, and then having themeanness not to let her do precisely as she wanted to.
Both the boys had been long enough in the field to make that plain farmhome seem a luxurious palace of rest. The beds were wonders ofsoftness and warmth, from which no unwelcome reveille or cross-grainedOrderly-Sergeant aroused them with profane threats of extra duty.
Instead, after peeping cautiously through the door to see that they wereawake, the girls would come in with merry greeting, bowls of warm water,and soft, white towels fragrant of the lawn. Maria would devote herselfto helping Shorty get ready for breakfast, and Amanda to Si.Shorty trembled like a captured rabbit when Maria first began herministrations. All his blood rushed to his face, and he tried tomumble something about being able to take care of himself, which thatstraightforward young woman paid not the slightest attention to. Afterhis first fright was over there was a thrilling delight about theoperation which electrified him.
When the boys were properly washed and combed, Mrs. Klegg, her kind,motherly face beaming with consciousness of good and acceptable service,would enter with a large tray, laden with fragrant coffee,delicious cream, golden butter, her own peerless bread and bits ofdaintily-broiled chicken.
"Si," said Shorty, one morning after he had finished the best breakfasthe had ever known, the girls had gone away with the things, and hewas leaning back thinking it all over in measureless content, "if thepreachers'd preach that a feller'd go to such a place as this whenhe died if he was real good, how good we'd all be, and we'd be ratheranxious to die. How in the world are we ever goin' to git up spunkenough to leave this and go back to the field?"
"You'll git tired o' this soon enough," said Si. "It's awful nice fora change, but I don't want it to last long. I want to be able to git upand git out. I hate awfully to have women-folks putterin' around me."
The boys could not help rapidly recovering under such favorableconditions, and soon they were able to sit up most of the day. In theevening, ensconced in the big Shaker rocking chairs, sitting on pillows,and carefully swathed in blankets, they would sit on either side ofthe bright fire, with the family and neighbors forming the semi-circlebetween, and talk over the war interminably. The neighbors all had sonsand brothers in the army, either in the 200th Ind. or elsewhere, andwere hungry for every detail of army news. They plied Si and Shorty withquestions until the boys' heads ached. Then the Deacon would help outwith his observations of camp-life.
"I'm not goin' to believe," said one good old brother, who was anexhorter in the Methodist Church, "that the army is sich a pitfall, sicha snare to the feet o' the unwary as many try to make out. There'sno need of any man or boy who goes to serve his country and his God,fallin' from grace and servin' the devil. Don't you think so, too.Deacon? There's no reason why he shouldn't be jest as good a man thereas he is at home. Don't you think so, too. Deacon Klegg?"
"Um--um-um," hemmed the Deacon, getting red in the face, and avoidinganswering the question by a vigorous stirring of the fire, while Sislily winked at Shorty. "I impressed that on son Jed's mind when heenlisted," continued the brother. "Jed was always a good, straightup-and-down boy; never gave me or his mother a minute's uneasiness. Itold him to have no more to do with cards than with smallpox; to avoidliquor as he would the bite of a rattlesnake; to take nothin' from otherpeople that he didn't pay full value for; that swearin' was a pollutionto the lips and the heart. I know that Jed hearkened to all that I said,and that it sank into his heart, and that he'll come back, if it's God'swill that he shall come back, as good a boy as when he went away."
Si and Shorty did not trust themselves to look at one another before thetrusting father's eyes, for Jedediah Bennett, who was one of the bestsoldiers in Co. Q, had developed a skill at poker that put all the otherboys on their mettle; and as for foraging--well, neither Si nor Shortyever looked for anything in a part where Jed Bennett had been.
"Deacon," persisted Mr. Bennett, "you saw a great deal o' the army. Youdidn't see the wickedness down there that these Copperheads 's chargin',did you? You only found men wicked that'd be wicked any place, andreally good men jest as good there as at home?"
"It's jest as you say, Mr. Bennett," answered the Deacon, coughing togain time for a diplomatic answer, and turning so that the boys couldnot see his face. "A wicked man's wicked anywhere, and he finds morechance for his wickedness in the army. A good man ought to be goodwherever he's placed, but there are positions which are more tryin' thanothers. By the way, Maria, bring us some apples and hickory nuts. Bringin a basketful o' them Rome Beauties for Mr. Bennett to take home withhim. You recollect them trees that I budded with Rome Beauty scions thatI got up the river, don't you, Bennett? Well, they bore this year, andI've bin calculatin' to send over some for you and Mrs. Bennett. I tellyou, they're beauties indeed. Big as your fist, red as a hollyhock,fragrant as a rose, and firm and juicy. I have sent for scions enough tobud half my orchard. I won't raise nothin' hereafter but Rome Beautiesand Russets."
The apples and nuts were brought in, together with some of Mrs. Klegg'sfamous crullers and a pitcher of sweet cider, and for awhile all wereengaged in discussing the delicious apples. To paraphrase Dr. Johnson,God undoubtedly could make a better fruit than a Rome Beauty apple froma young tree, growing in the right kind of soil, but undoubtedly Henever did. The very smell of the apple is a mild intoxication, and itsfirm, juicy flesh has a delicacy of taste that the choicest vintages ofthe Rhine cannot surpass.
But Mr. Bennett was persistent on the subject of morality in the army.He soon refused the offer of another apple, laid his knife back on theplate, put the plate on the table, wiped his mouth and hands, and said:
"Deacon, these brothers and sisters who have come here with me to-nightare, like myself, deeply interested in the moral condition of the army,where we all have sons or kinsmen. Now, can't you sit right there andtell us of your observations and experiences, as a Christian man andfather, from day to day, of every day that you were down there? Tell useverything, just as it happened each day, that we may be able to judgefor ourselves."
Si trembled a httle, for fear that they had his father cornered. But theDeacon was equal to the emergency.
"It's a'most too late, now, Mr. Bennett," he said, looking at the clock,"for it's a long story. You know I was down there quite a spell. Wecan't keep these boys out o' bed late now, and by the time we havefamily
worship it'll be high time for them to be tucked in. Won't youread us a chapter o' the Bible and lead us in prayer, Brother Bennett?"
While Shorty was rapidly gaining health and strength, his mind was illat ease. He had more time than ever to think of Jerusha Briggs, of BadAx, Wis., and his surroundings accentuated those thoughts. He began bywondering what sort of a girl she really was, compared to Si's sisters,and whether she was used to such a home as this? Was she as handsome, asfine, as high-spirited as Maria? Then his loyal soul reproached him. Ifshe would have him he would marry her, no matter who she she was. Whyshould he begin now making comparisons with other girls? Then, she mightbe far finer than Maria. How would he himself compare with her, when hedared not even raise his eyes to Maria?
He had not written her since the Tullahoma campaign. That seemed an ageaway, so many things had happened in the meanwhile.
He blamed himself for his neglect, and resolved to write at once, totell her where he was, what had happened to him, and that he was goingto try to visit her before returning to the field. But difficult aswriting had always been, it was incomparably more so now. He found thatwhere he thought of Jerusha once, he was thinking of Maria a hundredtimes. Not that he would admit to himself there was any likeness inhis thoughts about the two girls. He did not recognize that therewas anything sentimental in those about Maria. She was simply someinfinitely bright, superior sort of a being, whose voice was sweeterthan a bird's, and whose presence seemed to brighten the room. He foundhimself uncomfortable when she was out of sight. The company of Si orhis father was not as all-sufficient and interesting as it used to be.When Maria went out of the room they became strangely dull and almosttiresome, unless they talked of her.
Worse yet. As he grew stronger and better able to take care of himselfMaria dropped the familiarity of the nurse, and began putting him on thefooting of a young gentleman and a guest of the house. She came no moreinto the room with the basin of warm water, and got him ready forhis breakfast. She toned down carefully with every improvement in hisstrength. First, she merely brought him the basin and towel, and then ashe grew able to go about she would rap on his door and tell him to comeout and get ready for breakfast. Shorty began to feel that he was losingmuch by getting well, and that his convalescence had been entirely toorapid.
Then he would go off and try to compose his thoughts for a letter toJerusha Briggs, but before he knew it he would find himself in thekitchen watching, with dumb admiration, Maria knead bread, with hersleeves rolled to her shoulders, and her white, plump arms and brightface streaked with flour. There would be little conversation, for Mariawould sing with a lark's voice, as she worked, some of the sweet oldhymns, chording with Amanda, busy in another part of the house. Shortydid not want to talk. It was enough for him to feast his eyes and ears.
They were sitting down to supper one evening when little Sammy Wogglescame in from the station.
"There's your Cincinnati Gazette," he said, handing the paper to theDeacon, "and there's a letter for Si."
"Open it and read it, Maria," said Si, to whom reading of letters meantlabor, and he was yet too weak for work.
"It's postmarked Chattanooga, Tenn.," said she, scanning the envelopecarefully, "and addressed to Sergeant Josiah Klegg, 200th IndianaVolunteer Infantry, Bean Blossom Creek, Ind."
"Sergeant!" ejaculated Si, Shorty and the Deacon, in the same breath."Are you sure it's Sergeant?"
"Yes, it's Sergeant," said Maria, spelling the title out. "Who in theworld do you s'pose it's from, Si?"
"It don't seem to occur to you that you could find out by openin' it,"said the Deacon, sarcastically.
"Open it and see who it's from," said Si.
"The man writes a mighty nice hand," said Maria, scanning thesuperscription. "Just like that man that taught writing-school here lastWinter. It can't be from him, can it? Didn't s'pose there was anybody inyour company that could write as well as that. Look, Si, and see if youcan tell whose handwritin' it is."
"O, open it, Maria," groaned Si, "and you'll likely find his name writsomewhere inside."
"Don't be so impatient. Si," said Maria, feeling around for a hair-pinwith which to rip open the envelope. "You're gittin' crosser'n twosticks since you're gittin' well."
"He certainly does write a nice hand," said Maria, scanning theinclosure deliberately. "Just see how he makes his d's and s's. Allhis up-strokes are light, and all his down ones are heavy, just as thewriting-master used to teach. And his curves are just lovely. And whata funny name he has signed. J. T. No; I. T. No; that's a J, because itcomes down below the line. M-c-G-i-l-l--I can't make out the rest."
"McGillicuddy; ain't that it?" said Si eagerly. "It's from Capt.McGillicuddy. Read it, Maria."
"McGillicuddy. Well, of all the names!" said that deliberate youngwoman. "Do you really mean to say that any man has really such a name asthat?"
"'Mandy, take that letter away from her and read it," commanded Si.
"Well, I'm goin' to read your old letter for you, if you'll just gi'me time," remonstrated Maria. "What are you in such a hurry for, oldcross-patch? Le' me see:
"Headquarters, Co. Q, 200th Indiana Volunteer Infantry. "Chattanooga, Tenn., Nov. 20, 1863. "Sergeant Josiah Klegg.
"Dear Klegg: I have not heard from you since you left, but I am going to hope that you are getting well right along. All the boys think of you and Shorty, and send their love and their hopes that you will soon be back with us. We all miss you very much.
"I have some good news for you and Shorty. On my recommendation the Colonel has issued a special order promoting you Sergeant and Shorty Corporal, for gallant and meritorious services at the battle of Chickamauga, in which you captured a rebel flag. The order was read on parade this evening. So it is Sergeant Klegg and Corporal Elliott hereafter, and they will be obeyed and respected accordingly. You will take poor Pettibone's place, and Elliott will take Harney's.
"I do not know where Elliott is, but expect that he is with you. If so, give him the news, and also the inclosed letter, which came to me. If not, and you know where he is, write him.
"Write me as soon as you can. We are all getting along very well, especially since Grant came up and opened our cracker line. My little hurt is healing nicely, so that I can go about with a cane. We are all getting ready to jump old Bragg on Mission Ridge, and I am going to do my best to go along at the head of Co. Q, though I have been Acting Major and Lieutenant-Colonel since I got up.
"Regards to your father, and believe me, sincerely your friend,
"J. T. MCGILLICUDDY,
"Captain, Co. Q, 200th Ind. Inf. Vols."
Maria passed the letter over to Si to read again, and without more adoopened the inclosure. As she did so, a glance of recognition of thehandwriting flashed upon Shorty, and he started to take the letter fromher, but felt ashamed to do so.
"Why, this is from a woman," said Maria, "and she writes an awful bad,scratchy hand." Being a woman's letter she was bound to read it withoutloss of time, and she did so:
"Bad Ax, Wis., Nov. 10.
"Capt. McGillicuddy.
"Dear Sir: I believe you command the company, as they call it, in which there was a gentleman named Mr. Elliott. The papers reports that he was kild at thfe battle of Chickamaugy. I had some correspondence with him, and I sent him my picture.
Would you kindly write me the particklers of his death, and also what was done with sich letters and other things that he had? I would very much like to have you return me my letters and picture if you have them. Send them by express to Miss Jerusha Briggs, at this plais, and I will pay the charges. I will explain to you why I want them sent to a difrunt naim than that which I sign. Upon learnin' of Mr. Elliott's deth I excepted the addresses of Mr. Adams, whose wife passed away last summer. You may think I was in a hurry, but widowers always mene
bizniss when they go a-courtin', as you will know if ever you was a widower, and he had two little girls who needed a mother's care. My husband is inclined to be jelous, as widowers usually are, and I don't want him to ever know nothin' about my letters to Mr. Elliott, and him havin' my picture. I am goin' to ask you to help me, as a gentleman and a Christian, and to keep this confidential.
"Very respectfully,
"Mrs. Benj. F. Adams."
They all listened eagerly to the reading of the letter, and when it wasfinished looked for Shorty. But he had gone outside, where there wasmore air.
SHORTY WENT OUTSIDE WHERE THERE WAS MORE AIR. 101]