Aunt Madge's Story Part 12

Still I fully intended to obey. I forgot myself when I said,--

"Fel, le's do a was.h.i.+ng, and wash our dollies' clo'es. I'll go get a little tinpail to draw water with."

For I could not lift the bucket.

"Well," said she; "and I'll go get a cake o' soap."

She had heard nothing about the well-curb, and did not know we were doing wrong to draw water. She enjoyed swinging the pole just as much as I did, and we soon forgot our slight disagreement as we watched the little pail drop slowly into the well.

"There are stars down there," said I, "for I saw 'em once; they say it's stars, but I shouldn't wonder if 'twas pieces of gold--should you?"

I was letting the pail down as I spoke, and Fel was leaning against the curb, peeping into the well.

"O, I forgot," cried I; "cousin Joseph said--"

But even before I had finished the sentence, the rotten boards gave way, and Fel pitched suddenly forward into the well!

My brain reeled; but next moment my reason--all I ever had and more too--came to my aid. I can't account for it, but I felt as strong and brave as a little woman, and called out,--

"Take hold of the pole, Fel! take hold of the pole!"

I don't know whether she heard me or not, for her screams were coming up hoa.r.s.e and hollow from the watery depths. All I know is, she did put out both her little hands, and clutch that short pole. The ten-quart pail was dangling from the end of the pole, within two feet of the water.

What was I to do? I could draw up the little tin pail, but not such a heavy weight as Fel. My hope was that I might keep her above water a while, and as long as I could, of course she would not drown. It was a wise thought, and showed great presence of mind in a child of my age.

I am glad I have this one redeeming fact to tell of myself--I, who ran wild at the silly story of a make-believe Big Giant!

Yes, I held up that long pole with all the might of my little arms, crying all the while to Seth in the barn,--

"Come quick! come quick!"

It was just as much as I could do. I am sure strength must have been granted me for the task. For a long while, or what seemed to me a long while, n.o.body heard. Seth was making a great noise with his flail, and if my shout reached his ears he only thought it child's play; but when it kept on and on, so shrill and so full of distress, he dropped his flail at last and ran.

Not a moment too soon; my little strength was giving out.

"Jethro! what's this?" cried he, and caught the pole from my hand.

"Well, you're a good one! Don't be scared, little dear." That was to Fel. "Hold on tight, and I'll fetch you up in a jiffy."

She did hold on; stupefied as she was, she still had sense enough to cling to the pole.

"There, there, that's a lady! Both arms round my neck! Up she comes!"

By that time cousin Lydia was on the spot, looking ashy white, and Seth, with Fel in his arms, was rocking her back and forth like a baby, and saying, "There, there, little girlie, don't cry."

"The Lord be praised!" exclaimed cousin Lydia; "the child's alive! the child's alive!"

"Yes, and this Marjie here is a good one," said Seth, pointing to me; "she's got the right stuff in her. I never saw a young one of that age do anything so complete in my life."

I cried then; it was the first time I could stop to cry. Cousin Lydia put her arms round me, and kissed me; and that kiss was sweet to my soul.

Seth carried Fel into the house. She was trembling and sobbing violently, and did not seem at first to understand much that was said to her. Cousin Lydia rubbed her, and gave her some cordial to drink, and I looked on, half proud and half ashamed. Seth kept saying there were five feet of water in the well, and if I hadn't held Fel up, she must have drowned before anybody could get to her. I knew I had been very brave, and had saved Fel's life. I knew it before Seth said so.

But who drowned her in the first place? I expected every minute cousin Lydia would ask that question; but she didn't; she never seemed to think of it.

When the young ladies came home, Miss Julia took me in her lap, and said,--

"Well, Marjery, you're a smart child; there's no doubt about it--a very smart child."

Just think of that from Miss Julia! It wouldn't have been much from Miss Samantha, for she had a soft way with her; but Miss Julia! Why, it puffed me out, and puffed me out, till there was about as much substance to me as there is to a great hollow soap-bubble.

"Yes," said cousin Joseph, in his slow way, "Marjery is smart enough, but she ought to be very smart to make up for her heedlessness."

There, he had p.r.i.c.ked the bubble that time! I twinkled right out.

And it was the last time Julia admired me; for she happened to think just then of her gold watch. It was not on Fel's neck; it had gone into the well where the stars were. Seth got it out, but it was battered and bruised, and something had happened to the inside of it, so it wouldn't tick.

Miss Julia never took me in her lap again; but she liked Fel as well as ever. She said Fel was not at all to blame. I knew she wasn't, and somehow, after that dreadful affair, I was willing people should love Fel better than me. I had been fairly frightened out of my crossness to her. O, what if I _had_ drowned her? Every time I wanted to snub her I thought of that, and stopped. I suppose I put my arms round her neck fifty times, and asked, "Do you love me _jus_ the same as if I hadn't drowned you?"

And she said "Yes," every time, the precious darling!

I had a very lame arm not long after this; it almost threw me into a fever. I was ashamed to have that doctor come, for they had told me what was the matter. It has always been my luck, children, if I ever tried to show off, to get nicely paid for it!

Now I think of it, Dotty, how easily Fel could have turned upon me at this time, and said, "Ho, little meddle-girl! Got a sore arm, too!"

But you may be sure she never thought of such a thing. It grieved her to see me lie in bed, and toss about with pain. She sat beside me, and patted my cheeks with her little, soft hands, and sometimes read to me, from a Sabbath school book, about a good girl, named Mary Lothrop,--she could read as well as most grown people, for she really was a remarkable child,--but I didn't like to hear about Mary Lothrop, and begged her to stop.

"She's too tremendous good," said I. "It killed her to be so good, and I'm afraid--"

I believe I never told Fel what I was afraid of; but it was, that she was "too tremendous good" herself, and would "die little," as Mary Lothrop did. I thought she seemed like Mary; and hadn't Miss Julia said she was too good for this world? O, what if G.o.d should want her up in heaven? I had thought of this before; but if I had really believed it, I should all along have treated her very differently. We should none of us speak unkindly if we believed our friends were soon going away from us, out of this world. What would I give now if I had never called the tears into that child's gentle eyes!

My arm got well, and the next thing that happened was a letter from home--to us two little chickens, Fel and me both. Seth brought it from the "post-ovviz," directed to Miss Ruph.e.l.le Allen and Miss Margaret Parlin, care of Joseph Tenney, Esq. Here it lies in my writing-desk, almost as yellow as gold, and quite as precious. How many times do you suppose we little girls read it and kissed it? How many times do you suppose we went to sleep with it under our pillows?

We took turns doing that, and thought it brought us pleasant dreams.

Her mother wrote one page of the letter, and my mother another; 'Ria a few lines, and Ned these words, in a round hand:--

"DEAR SISTER: I suppose you want to hear all about our house and barn. I went to Gus Allen's party. We trained, and a pretty set of fellows we were."

That was all he told about our house and barn, and he did not sign his name. Perhaps he would have said more after resting a while; but Miss Rubie saved him the trouble, and ended the letter, by inviting "you darlings,"--Fel and me,--to her wedding, which was to take place in a few weeks.

We had a little waltzing to do then! A wedding! We danced right and left, with that letter under our feet.

"I should think you'd better read on, and see what the man's name is, you little Flutterbudgets," said cousin Joseph, laughing at us.

We hadn't thought of that. We looked, and found it was uncle John!

Another surprise. It was a new idea to both of us, that a man who had had one wife should ever have another. We remembered aunt Persis, who wanted to steam Fel.

"And she died years, and years, and _years_ ago."