Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wiggin (fun books to read for adults TXT) đ
- Author: Kate Douglas Wiggin
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âIt was complete, though, the governor happening to be there to see his niece graduate,â said Delia Weeks. âLand! he looked elegant! They say heâs only six feet, but he might âaâ been sixteen, and he certainly did make a fine speech.â
âDid you notice Rebecca, how white she was, and how she trembled when she and Herbert Dunn stood there while the governor was praisinâ âem? Heâd read her composition, too, for he wrote the Sawyer girls a letter about it.â This remark was from the sympathetic Mrs. Cobb.
âI thought ât was kind oâ foolish, his makinâ so much of her when it wanât her graduation,â objected Mrs. Meserve; âlayinâ his hand on her head ânâ all that, as if he was a Pope pronouncinâ benediction. But there! Iâm glad the prize come to Riverboro ât any rate, and a hanâsomer one never was give out from the Wareham platform. I guess there ainât no end to Adam Laddâs money. The fifty dollars would âaâ been good enough, but he must needs go and put it into those elegant purses.â
âI set so fur back I couldnât see âem fairly,â complained Delia, âand now Rebecca has taken hers home to show her mother.â
âIt was kind of a gold net bag with a chain,â said Mrs. Perkins, âand there was five ten-dollar gold pieces in it. Herbert Dunnâs was put in a fine leather wallet.â
âHow long is Rebecca goinâ to stay at the farm?â asked Delia.
âTill they get over Hannahâs beinâ married, and get the house to runninâ without her,â answered Mrs. Perkins. âIt seems as if Hannah might âaâ waited a little longer. Aurelia was set against her goinâ away while Rebecca was at school, but sheâs obstinate as a mule, Hannah is, and she just took her own way in spite of her mother. Sheâs been doinâ her sewinâ for a year; the awfullest coarse cotton cloth she had, but sheâs nearly blinded herself with fine stitchinâ and rufflinâ and tuckinâ. Did you hear about the quilt she made? Itâs white, and has a big bunch oâ grapes in the centre, quilted by a thimble top. Then thereâs a row of circle-borderinâ round the grapes, and she done them the size of a spool. The next border was done with a sherry glass, and the last with a port glass, anâ all outside oâ that was solid stitchinâ done in straight rows; sheâs goinâ to exhibit it at the county fair.â
âSheâd better âaâ been takinâ in sewinâ and earninâ money, âstead oâ blindinâ her eyes on such foolishness as quilted counterpanes,â said Mrs. Cobb. âThe next thing you know that mortgage will be foreclosed on Misâ Randall, and she and the children wonât have a roof over their heads.â
âDonât they say thereâs a good chance of the railroad goinâ through her place?â asked Mrs. Robinson. âIf it does, sheâll git as much as the farm is worth and more. Adam Ladd âs one of the stockholders, and everything is a success he takes holt of. Theyâre fightinâ it in Augusty, but Iâd back Ladd agin any oâ them legislaters if he thought he was in the right.â
âRebeccaâll have some new clothes now,â said Delia, âand the land knows she needs âem. Seems to me the Sawyer girls are gittinâ turrible near!â
âRebecca wonât have any new clothes out oâ the prize money,â remarked Mrs. Perkins, âfor she sent it away the next day to pay the interest on that mortgage.â
âPoor little girl!â exclaimed Delia Weeks.
âShe might as well help along her folks as spend it on foolishness,â affirmed Mrs. Robinson. âI think she was mighty lucky to git it to pay the interest with, but sheâs probably like all the Randalls; it was easy come, easy go, with them.â
âThatâs more than could be said of the Sawyer stock,â retorted Mrs. Perkins; âseems like they enjoyed savinâ moreân anything in the world, and itâs gaininâ on Mirandy sence her shock.â
âI donât believe it was a shock; it stands to reason sheâd never âaâ got up after it and been so smart as she is now; we had three oâ the worst shocks in our family that there ever was on this river, and I know every symptom of âem betterân the doctors.â And Mrs. Peter Meserve shook her head wisely.
âMirandy âs smart enough,â said Mrs. Cobb, âbut you notice she stays right to home, and sheâs more close-mouthed than ever she was; never took a mite oâ pride in the prize, as I could see, though it pretty nigh drove Jeremiah out oâ his senses. I thought I should âaâ died oâ shame when he cried `Hooray!â and swung his straw hat when the governor shook hands with Rebecca. Itâs lucky he couldnât get fur into the church and had to stand back by the door, for as it was, he made a spectacle of himself. My suspicion isââand here every lady stopped eating and sat up straightââthat the Sawyer girls have lost money. They donât know a thing about business ânâ never did, and Mirandyâs too secretive and contrairy to ask advice.â
âThe most oâ what theyâve got is in govâment bonds, I always heard, and you canât lose money on them. Jane had the timber land left her, anâ Mirandy had the brick house. She probably took it awful hard that Rebeccaâs fifty dollars had to be swallowed up in a mortgage, âstead of goinâ towards school expenses. The more I think of it, the more I think Adam Ladd intended Rebecca should have that prize when he gave it.â The mind of Huldahâs mother ran towards the idea that her daughterâs rights had been assailed.
âLand, Marthy, what foolishness you talk!â exclaimed Mrs. Perkins; âyou donât suppose he could tell what composition the committee was going to choose; and why should he offer another fifty dollars for a boyâs prize, if he wanât interested in helpinâ along the school? Heâs give Emma Jane about the same present as Rebecca every Christmas for five years; thatâs the way he does.â
âSome time heâll forget one of âem and give to the other, or drop âem both and give to some new girl!â said Delia Weeks, with an experience born of fifty years of spinsterhood.
âLike as not,â assented Mrs. Peter Meserve, âthough itâs easy to see he ainât the marryinâ kind. Thereâs men that would marry once a year if their wives would die fast enough, and thereâs men that seems to want to live alone.â
âIf Ladd was a Mormon, I guess he could have every woman in North Riverboro thatâs a suitable age, accordinâ to what my cousins say,â remarked Mrs. Perkins.
ââT ainât likely he could be ketched by any North Riverboro girl,â demurred Mrs. Robinson; ânot when he probâbly has had the pick oâ Boston. I guess Marthy hit it when she said thereâs men that ainât the marryinâ kind.â
âI wouldnât trust any of âem when Miss Right comes along!â laughed Mrs. Cobb genially. âYou never can tell what ânâ who âs goinâ to please âem. You know Jeremiahâs contrairy horse, Buster? He wonât let anybody put the bit into his mouth if he can help it. Heâll fight Jerry, and fight me, till he has to give in. Rebecca didnât know nothinâ about his tricks, and the other day she went intâ the barn to hitch up. I followed right along, knowing sheâd have trouble with the headstall, and I declare if she wanât pattinâ Busterâs nose and talkinâ to him, and when she put her little fingers into his mouth he opened it so fur I thought heâd swaller her, for sure. He jest smacked his lips over the bit as if ât was a lump oâ sugar. `Land, Rebecca,â I says, `howâd you persuade him to take the bit?â `I didnât,â she says, `he seemed to want it; perhaps heâs tired of his stall and wants to get out in the fresh air.ââ
XXVIIâTHE VISION SPLENDIDâ
A year had elapsed since Adam Laddâs prize had been discussed over the teacups in Riverboro. The months had come and gone, and at length the great day had dawned for Rebecca,âthe day to which she had been looking forward for five years, as the first goal to be reached on her little journey through the world. School-days were ended, and the mystic function known to the initiated as âgraduationâ was about to be celebrated; it was even now heralded by the sun dawning in the eastern sky. Rebecca stole softly out of bed, crept to the window, threw open the blinds, and welcomed the rosy light that meant a cloudless morning. Even the sun looked different somehow,âlarger, redder, more important than usual; and if it were really so, there was no member of the graduating class who would have thought it strange or unbecoming, in view of all the circumstances. Emma Jane stirred on her pillow, woke, and seeing Rebecca at the window, came and knelt on the floor beside her. âItâs going to be pleasant!â she sighed gratefully. âIf it wasnât wicked, I could thank the Lord, Iâm so relieved in mind! Did you sleep?â
âNot much; the words of my class poem kept running through my head, and the accompaniments of the songs; and worse than anything, Mary Queen of Scotsâ prayer in Latin; it seemed as if
â`Adoro, imploro, Ut liberes me!â
were burned into my brain.â
No one who is unfamiliar with life in rural neighborhoods can imagine the gravity, the importance, the solemnity of this last day of school. In the matter of preparation, wealth of detail, and general excitement it far surpasses a wedding; for that is commonly a simple affair in the country, sometimes even beginning and ending in a visit to the parsonage. Nothing quite equals graduation in the minds of the graduates themselves, their families, and the younger students, unless it be the inauguration of a governor at the State Capitol. Wareham, then, was shaken to its very centre on this day of days. Mothers and fathers of the scholars, as well as relatives to the remotest generation, had been coming on the train and driving into the town since breakfast time; old pupils, both married and single, with and without families, streamed back to the dear old village. The two livery stables were crowded with vehicles of all sorts, and lines of buggies and wagons were drawn up along the sides of the shady roads, the horses switching their tails in luxurious idleness. The streets were filled with people wearing their best clothes, and the fashions included not only âthe latest thing,â but the well preserved relic of a bygone day. There were all sorts and conditions of men and women, for there were sons and daughters of storekeepers, lawyers, butchers, doctors, shoemakers, professors, ministers, and farmers at the Wareham schools, either as boarders or day scholars. In the seminary building there was an excitement so deep and profound that it expressed itself in a kind of hushed silence, a transient suspension of life, as those most interested approached the crucial moment. The feminine graduates-to-be were seated in their own bedrooms, dressed with a completeness of detail to which all their past lives seemed to have been but a prelude. At least, this was the case with their bodies; but their heads, owing to the extreme heat of the day, were one and all ornamented with leads, or papers, or dozens of little braids, to issue later in every sort of curl known to the girl of that period. Rolling the hair on leads or papers was a favorite method of attaining the desired result, and though
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