Miss Elliot's Girls Part 14

Susie Elliot walked part of the way home with Florence Austin, and the two little girls, who were fast becoming intimate friends, talked over the events of the afternoon.

"How much your auntie knows about animals and birds!" said Florence; "she seems almost as fond of them as if they were people."

"Yes," Susie answered; "she was always fond of pets, papa says; and, ever since she has been ill, she has spent a great deal of time watching them and studying their ways. I think it makes her forget the pain,"

"Is it the pain that keeps her awake at night, Susie? You know she said this afternoon she was glad to hear the chippy-birds, because then she knew the long night was over; and she looked so white, and couldn't get down those three little easy steps to pick up the baby-bird. But she walks about the garden sometimes with a crutch, doesn't she?"

"Oh, yes! and she's better than when she first came here to live, only she never can be well, you know. Today is one of her poor days; but she used to be so ill that she was hardly ever free from pain. You never would have known it, though, she was always so cheerful and doing something to give us good times."

"Can't she ever be made well, Susie? There's doctors in town, you know, who cure _every thing_," said the little girl.

Susie shook her head.

"Papa says she has an incurable disease;" and then seriously--"I think if Jesus were here he would put his hands on auntie and make her well."

CHAPTER X.

PARSON LORRIMER'S WHITE HORSE.

"And now for the story of the minister's horse," Mollie Elliot said, when Miss Ruth's company of workers had a.s.sembled on the next Wednesday afternoon. "I suppose he was an awfully good horse, which set an example to all the other horses in the parish to follow. Say, Auntie, wasn't he?"

"When my grandmother was a little girl," Ruth Elliot began, "she lived with her father and mother in a small country town among the New Hamps.h.i.+re hills: and of all the stories she told in her old age about the quiet simple life of the people of Hilltown, the one her grandchildren liked best to hear was

THE STORY OF PARSON LORRIMER'S WHITE HORSE.

"Parson Lorrimer had lived thirty years in Hilltown before he owned a horse. He began to preach in the big white meeting-house when he was a young man, and, as neither he nor his people wanted a change, when he was sixty years old he was preaching there still. It was a scattered parish, with farm-houses perched on the hill-sides and nestled in the valleys; and the minister, in doing his work, had trudged over every mile of it a great many times. He made nothing of walking five miles to a meeting on a December evening, with the thermometer below zero, or of climbing the hills in a driving snow-storm to visit a sick paris.h.i.+oner.

He was a tall, spare man, healthy and vigorous, with iron-gray hair, a strong kind face, and a smile in his brown eyes that made every baby in Hilltown stretch out its arms to him to be taken.

"Not a chick or child had Parson Lorrimer of his own. He had never married, but lived in the old parsonage, a stately mansion, with rooms enough in it to accommodate a big family, with only an elderly widow and her grown-up son to minister to his wants and to keep him company. His study was at the back of the house, and looked out upon the garden and orchard, so that the smell of his pinks and roses came to him as he wrote, and the same robins, year by year, built their nests within reach of his hand in the branches of the crooked old apple-tree that shaded his window.

"The minister was fond of caring for living creatures, both small and great, and every domestic animal about the place knew it. The cat jumped fearlessly to his knee, sure of a welcome. The cow lowed after him if he showed himself at the window. The little chicks fluttered to his shoulder when he appeared in the door-yard, and the old sow with her litter of pigs kept close at his heels as he paced the orchard, pondering next Sunday's sermon.

"He remembered them all. There was always a handful of grain for the chickens in the pocket of his study-gown, a ripe pumpkin in the shed for Sukey; and the good man would laugh like a school-boy, as the funny little baby-pigs rolled and tumbled over each other for the apples he tossed them. A great, good, gentle man, learned and wise in theology and knowledge of the Scriptures, with tastes and habits as simple as a child.

"But I must hurry on with my story, or you will think I am telling you more about the parson than his horse. The good man realized, one day, that he was not as young as he used to be, and that climbing Harrison Hill on a July afternoon and walking five miles in a drizzling rain after a preaching service were not so easy to do as he had found them a dozen years before. So he wisely concluded to call in the aid of four strong legs in carrying on his work, and that is how he came to buy a horse.

"The people of Hilltown heartily approved of this plan, and several were anxious to help him.

"Deacon Cowles had a four-year-old colt, raised on the farm, 'a real clever steady-goin' creetur, that he guessed he could spare--might be turned in for pew-rent;' and Si Olcott didn't care if he traded off his gray mare on the same conditions. She was about used up for farm-work, but had considerable go in her yet--could jog round with the parson for ten years to come.

"The minister received these offers with politeness, and promised to think of them; and then one day after a brief absence from home, set every body in the parish talking, by driving into town seated in an open wagon, s.h.i.+ning with fresh paint and varnish, and drawn by a horse the like of which had never been seen in Hilltown before.

"He was of a large and powerful build, and most comely and graceful in proportion, with a small head, slender legs, and flowing mane and tail.

In color, he was milk-white, while his nose and the inside of his pointed ears were of a delicate pink. He held his head high, stepping proudly and glancing from side to side in a nervous, excited way; but he had a kind eye, and the watching neighbors saw him take an apple from the hand of his new master, after they turned in at the parsonage gate.

In answer to all questions, the parson said he had purchased the horse at Winterport, of a seafaring man, that he was eight years old, and his name was Peter. But to neither man nor woman in Hilltown did he ever tell the sum he paid in yellow gold and good bank-notes for the white horse,

"A few days after the purchase, Parson Lorrimer attended a funeral, and when the service at the house was ended, and he had shaken hands all round with the mourners, and exchanged greetings with neighbors and friends, he stepped out to the side-yard, where he had fastened his horse, and drove round the house to take his place before the hea.r.s.e; for in Hilltown it was the custom for the minister to lead the procession to the burying-ground.

"It was Peter's first appearance in an official capacity, and he stepped with sufficient dignity into the street, where a long line of wagons and chaises, led off by the mourners' coach and the big black hea.r.s.e, waited the signal to start, while in the door-yard and along the sidewalk were ranged the foot-pa.s.sengers; for at a funeral in Hilltown everybody went to the grave.

"A pa.s.sing breeze caught a piece of paper lying in the road, and flirted it close to Peter's eyes. He gave a tremendous leap sideways, and it was a marvel no one was struck by his flying heels, then gathering himself together he ran. How he did run! The good folks scattered right and left with amazing quickness, considering their habits of life; for in the slow little town, every body took things fair and easy, and the white horse dashed past the string of wagons, the mourners' equipage, and the tall black hea.r.s.e. There was a cloud of dust, a rattling of wheels, a clatter of hoofs, and Peter and the parson were far down the road. The people gazed after their departing spiritual guide in speechless astonishment. The mourners' heads were thrust far out of the coach windows. Even the sleepy farm-horses p.r.i.c.ked up their ears: while old Bill, the s.e.xton's clumsy big-footed beast, which for fifteen years had carried the dead folks of Hilltown to their graves, and had never before been known, on these solemn occasions to depart from his slow walk, made a most astonis.h.i.+ng departure; for, taking his driver unawares, he suddenly started after the flying white steed, breaking into a lumbering gallop, that set plumes nodding, curtains flapping, and gla.s.ses rattling, and made the huge unwieldly vehicle lurch and bob about in a way to threaten a shocking catastrophe.

"A vigorous twitch of the lines, and a loud 'Whoa, now, Bill! Whoa, I tell ye!' soon brought the s.e.xton's beast to a stand-still. I am sure he must have shared his master's surprise at such unseeming conduct, who wondered 'What in time had got into the blamed crittur!' But neither voice nor rein checked Peter's speed. On he flew, down the hill past the post-office, the meeting-house, and the tavern. It was a straight road, and his driver kept him to it. Fortunately there were no collisions, and at the last long ascent his pace slackened and he turned of his own accord in at the parsonage gate.

"At the village store and the tavern that evening, Peter's evil behavior was talked about.

"'He's a sp'iled horse,' Jonathan Goslee, the minister's hired man, said, 'though you can't make parson think so. He's dead sure to run ag'in. A horse knows when he's got the upper hand, jest as well as a child, and he'll watch his chance to try it over ag'in, you see if he don't.'

"But the next time Peter s.h.i.+ed and tried to run, it was the minister who got the upper hand; and when the short excitement was over, and the horse quiet and subdued, he was driven back to within a few paces of the object of his fright. A neighbor was called to stand at his head, while his master took down the flaming yellow placard that had caused all the trouble, and slowly and cautiously brought it to him, that he might see, smell, and touch it, talking soothingly to him and petting and caressing him. When he had become accustomed to its appearance, and had learned by experience that it was harmless, it was nailed to the tree again and Peter pa.s.sed it the second time without trouble.

"'If I'd owned the horse,' the minister's helper said, when he told this story, 'I s'pose I should have _licked_ him by,--but I guess, in the long run, parson's way was best.'

"This was one of many lessons Peter received to correct his only serious fault. He was willing and swift, intelligent and kind, but so nervous and timid, and made so frantic by his fear of any unknown object, that he was constantly putting the minister's life and limbs in jeopardy. But he had a wise, patient teacher, and he was apt to learn.

"My grandmother was fond of telling some of the means adopted to bring about the cure;--how one day after Peter had s.h.i.+ed at sight of a wheelbarrow, the parson trundled the obnoxious object about the yard for half an hour in view of the stable window, then emptied a measure of oats in it, and opened the stable door; how the horse trotted round and round, drawing each time a little nearer, then came close, snorted and wheeled,--his master standing by encouraging him by hand and voice,--until, unable longer to resist the tempting bait, he put his pink nose to the pile and ate first timidly, then with confidence. After that, the old lady said, Peter felt a particular regard for wheelbarrows in general, hoping in each one he happened to pa.s.s to find another toothsome meal.

"He suffered at first agonies of terror at sight of the long line of waving, flapping garments he had to pa.s.s every Monday in his pa.s.sage from the big gate to the stable; but, through the minister's devices, grew so familiar with their appearance, that he took an early opportunity of making their closer acquaintance, and mouthed the parson's ruffled s.h.i.+rt, and took a bite of the Widow Goslee's dimity short-gown.

"And so the kindly work went on. Peter gained trust and confidence every day, learning little by little that his master was his friend, that under his guidance no harm came to him, no impossible task was given to him; until at length confidence cast out fear, and the white horse became as docile and obedient as he had always been willing and strong.

"These qualities, on one occasion, stood him in good stead; for the parsonage barn and stable one night burned to the ground. Peter's stall was bright with the red light of the fire, and the flames crackled overhead in the barn-loft when the parson led out his favorite, trembling in every limb, his eyes wild with terror, but perfectly obedient to his master's hand. It was as if he had said: 'I must go, even through this dreadful fire, if master leads the way.'

"There was a Fourth of July celebration in the next parish, and Parson Lorrimer was invited to deliver the oration. He rode over on horseback, took the saddle from Peter's back, and turned him loose in a pasture where other of the guests' horses were grazing. A platform was erected on the green, with seats for the band, the invited guests, and the speaker of the day; while the people gathered from both parishes were standing about in groups waiting for the exercises to commence. Flags were flying, bells ringing, and a field-piece, that had seen service in the War of the Revolution, at intervals belched out a salute in honor of the day. The band was playing a lively tune, when suddenly there was a stir and a dividing to the right and left of the crowd gathered about the stand, and through the lane thus formed came the minister's white horse.

"He trotted leisurely up, stopped before the platform, and made a bow, then began to dance, keeping time to the music, and going round and round in a s.p.a.ce quickly cleared for him by the lookers-on. I don't know whether it was a waltz the band was playing, or if horses were taught to waltz so long ago; but whatever kind of dance it was,--gallopade, quickstep, or cotillion,--Peter, in his horse-fas.h.i.+on, danced it well.

Faster and faster played the music, and round and round went the pony.

The people laughed and shouted, and Peter made his farewell bow and trotted soberly out of the ring, in the midst of a great shout of applause.

"How did Parson Lorrimer feel? Of all that amused and wondering crowd, not one was more taken by surprise than he--both at this exhibition of Peter's accomplishments and at the tale it told of his early days; for it was impossible to doubt that at some time in his life he had been a trained horse in a circus. From the field near by he had recognized the familiar strains that used to call him to his task, and had leaped the fence and made his way to where the crowd was gathered, to play his pretty part on the village green, before the sober citizens of Centerville and Hilltown, as he had played it hundreds of times before, under the canvas, to the motley crowd drawn together by the attractions of the ring.

"Of course the minister felt sorry and ashamed when he learned, in this public way, of the low company Peter had kept in his youth. Whenever a traveling circus had stopped at Winterport, Parson Lorrimer had not failed to warn his young people from the pulpit to keep their feet from straying to this place of sinful amus.e.m.e.nt. But mingled with his chagrin, I think he must have felt a little pride in the owners.h.i.+p of the beautiful creature, so intelligent to remember, and so supple of limb to perform, the unaccustomed task.

"He took pains to narrate more fully than he had thought necessary before, how he had come in possession of the animal. He had gone, he said, on business to Winterport, and on the wharf, early one morning, had met a man in the dress of a sailor leading the white horse. In answer to inquiries, the stranger said he had taken the horse In payment of a debt, and was about to s.h.i.+p him on board a trading-vessel then lying in the dock, bound to the East Indies. Would he sell, the minister asked, on this side of the water? Yes, if he could get his price. While they talked, Parson Lorrimer caressed the horse, who responded in so friendly a way that the minister, who had lost his heart at first sight to the beautiful creature, then and there made the purchase, waiting only till the banks were open to pay over the money. He had asked few questions; had known, he said, by Peter's eyes that he was kind, and by certain unmistakable marks about him that he came of good stock. Of the stranger, he had seen nothing from that day, and could not even remember his name.

"'I always knew,' Jonathan Goslee said, 'that the critter had tricks and ways different from common horses, I've catched him at 'em sometimes. One day I found him with his bran-tub bottom upwards, amusin'

himself tryin' to stand with all four legs on it at once. And he'll clear marm's clothes-line at a leap as easy as you'd jump over a pair of bars. But I never happened to catch him practisin' his dancin'-lesson--must have done it, though, on the sly, or he couldn't have footed it so lively that day over to Centerville. Well, sometimes I think--and then ag'in I don't know. If that there sailor feller stole the horse he sold in such a hurry to parson, why didn't the owner make a hue and cry about it, and follow him up? 'Twould have been easy enough to track the beast to Hilltown. And then ag'in, if 'twas all fair and square, and he took the horse for a debt, why didn't he sell him to a show company for a fancy price, instead of s.h.i.+ppin' him off to the Indys in one of them rotten old tubs, that as like as not would go under before she'd made half the voyage. But there, we never shall get to the bottom facts in the case, any more than we shall ever know how much money parson paid down for that horse,'

"And they never did.

"My grandmother remembered Parson Lorrimer as an old man, tall and straight, with flowing white hair, a placid face, and kind, dim eyes that gradually grew dimmer, till their light faded to darkness. For the last four years of his life he was totally blind, She remembered how he used to mount the pulpit-stairs, one hand resting upon the shoulder of his colleague, and, standing in the old place, with lifted face and closed eyes, carry on the service, repeating chapter and hymns from memory, his voice tremulous, but still sweet and penetrating.

"She remembered going to visit the old man in his study. It was summer-time, and he sat in his arm-chair at the open window, and on the gra.s.s-plat outside--so near that his head almost touched his master's shoulder--the old white horse was standing; for they had grown old together, and together were enjoying a peaceful and contented old age.

Every bright day for hours Peter stood at the window, and in the winter-time, when he was shut in his stable, the old man never failed to visit him.