Daisy

  CHAPTER III.

  THE MULTIPLICATION TABLE.

  My life at Magnolia might be said to begin when I came downstairs thatevening. My aunt and Miss Pinshon were sitting in the parlour, in thelight of a glorious fire of light wood and oak sticks. Miss Pinshoncalled me to her at once; inquired where I had been; informed me Imust not for the future take such diversion without her leave firstasked and obtained; and then put me to reading aloud, that she mightsee how well I could do it. She gave me a philosophical article in amagazine for my proof piece; it was full of long words that I did notknow and about matters that I did not understand. I read mechanically,of course; trying with all my might to speak the long words right,that there might be no room for correction; but Miss Pinshon's voiceinterrupted me again and again. I felt cast away in a foreign land;further and further from the home feeling every minute; and it seemedbesides as if the climate had some power of petrifaction. I could notkeep Medusa out of my head. It was a relief at last when the tea wasbrought in. Miss Pinshon took the magazine out of my hand.

  "She has a good voice, but she wants expression," was her remark.

  "I could not understand what she was reading," said my Aunt Gary.

  "Nor anybody else," said Preston. "How are you going to giveexpression, when there is nothing to express?"

  "That is where you feel the difference between a good reader and onewho is not trained," said my governess. "I presume Daisy has neverbeen trained."

  "No, not in anything," said my aunt. "I dare say she wants a good dealof it."

  "We will try," said Miss Pinshon.

  It all comes back to me as I write, that beginning of my Magnolialife. I remember how dazed and disheartened I sat at the tea-table,yet letting nobody see it; how Preston made violent efforts to changethe character of the evening; and did keep up a stir that at anothertime would have amused me. And when I was dismissed to bed, Prestoncame after me to the upper gallery and almost broke up my power ofkeeping quiet. He gathered me in his arms, kissed me and lamented me,and denounced ferocious threats against "Medusa;" while I in vaintried to stop him. He would not be sent away, till he had come into myroom and seen that the fire was burning and the room warm, andMargaret ready for me.

  With Margaret there was also an old coloured woman, dark and wrinkled,my faithful old friend Mammy Theresa! but indeed I could scarcely seeher just then, for my eyes were full of big tears when Preston leftme; and I had to stand still before the fire for some minutes beforeI could fight down the fresh tears that were welling up and let thosewhich veiled my eyesight scatter away. I was conscious how silentlythe two women waited upon me. I had a sense even then of the sympathythey were giving. I knew they served me with a respect which wouldhave done for an Eastern princess; but I said nothing hardly, northey, that night.

  If the tears came when I was alone, so did sleep too at last; and Iwaked up the next morning a little revived. It was a cool morning, andmy eyes opened to see Margaret on her knees making my fire. Two goodoak sticks were on the fire dogs, and a heap of light wood on thefloor. I watched her piling and preparing, and then kindling the woodwith a splinter of light wood which she lit in the candle. It was allvery strange to me. The bare painted and varnished floor; the rugslaid down here and there; the old cupboards in the wall; the unwontedfurniture. It did not feel like home. I lay still, until the fireblazed up and Margaret rose to her feet, and seeing my eyes opendropped her curtsey.

  "Please, missis, may I be Miss Daisy's girl?"

  "I will ask Aunt Gary," I answered, a good deal surprised.

  "Miss Daisy is the mistress. We all belong to Miss Daisy. It will beas she say."

  I thought to myself that very little was going to be "as I said." Igot out of bed, feeling terribly slim-hearted, and stood in mynightgown before the fire, trying to let the blaze warm me. Margaretdid her duties with a zeal of devotion that reminded me of my oldJune.

  "I will ask Aunt Gary," I said; "and I think she will let you build myfire, Margaret."

  "Thank'e, ma'am. First-rate fires. I'll make, Miss Daisy. We'se all soglad Miss Daisy come to Magnoly."

  Were they? I thought, and what did she mean by their all "belonging tome?" I was not accustomed to quite so much deference. However, Iimproved my opportunity by asking Margaret my question of the daybefore about church. The girl half laughed.

  "Ain't any church big enough to hold all de people," she said. "Guesswe coloured folks has to go widout."

  "But where _is_ the church?" I said.

  "Ain't none, Miss Daisy. People enough to make a church full allhimselves."

  "And don't you want to go?"

  "Reckon it's o' no consequence, missis. It's a right smart chance of away to Bo'mbroke, where de white folks' church is. Guess they don'thave none for poor folks nor niggers in dese parts."

  "But Jesus died for poor people," I said, turning round upon myattendant. She met me with a gaze I did not understand, and saidnothing. Margaret was not like my old June. She was a clear mulatto,with a fresh colour and rather a handsome face; and her eyes, unlikeJune's little anxious, restless, almond-shaped eyes, were liquid andfull. She went on carefully with the toilet duties which busied her;and I was puzzled.

  "Did you never hear of Jesus?" I said presently. "Don't you know thatHe loves poor people?"

  "Reckon He loves rich people de best, Miss Daisy," the girl said, in adry tone.

  I faced about to deny this, and to explain how the Lord had a speciallove and care for the poor. I saw that my hearer did not believe me."She had heerd so," she said.

  The dressing-bell sounded long and loud, and I was obliged to letMargaret go on with my dressing; but in the midst of my puzzled stateof mind, I felt childishly sure of the power of that truth, of theLord's love, to break down any hardness and overcome any coldness.Yet, "how shall they hear without a preacher?" and I had so littlechance to speak.

  "Then, Margaret," said I at last, "is there no place where you can goto hear about the things in the Bible?"

  "No, missis; I never goes."

  "And does not anybody, except Darry when he goes with the carriage?"

  "Can't, Miss Daisy; it's miles and miles; and no place for niggersneither."

  "Can you read the Bible, Margaret?"

  "Guess not, missis; we's too stupid; ain't good for coloured folks toread."

  "Does _nobody_, among all the people, read the Bible?" said I, oncemore stopping Margaret in my dismay.

  "Uncle Darry--he does," said the girl; "and he do 'spoun some; but Idon't make no count of his 'spoundations."

  I did not know quite what she meant; but I had no time for anythingmore. I let her go, locked my door and kneeled down; with the burdenon my heart of this new revelation; that there were hundreds of peopleunder the care of my father and mother who were living without churchand without Bible, in desperate ignorance of everything worth knowing.If papa had only been at Magnolia with me! I thought I could havepersuaded him to build a church and let somebody come and teach thepeople. But now--what could I do? And I asked the Lord, what could Ido? but I did not see the answer.

  Feeling the question on my two shoulders, I went downstairs. To myastonishment, I found the family all gathered in solemn order; thehouse servants at one end of the room, my aunt, Miss Pinshon andPreston at the other, and before my aunt a little table with books. Igot a seat as soon as I could, for it was plain that something waswaiting for me. Then my aunt opened the Bible and read a chapter, andfollowed it with prayer read out of another book. I was greatly amazedat the whole proceeding. No such ceremony was ever gone through atMelbourne; and certainly nothing had ever given me the notion that myAunt Gary was any more fond of sacred things than the rest of thefamily.

  "An excellent plan," said Miss Pinshon, when we had risen from ourknees and the servants had filed off.

  "Yes," my aunt said, somewhat as if it needed an apology;--"it was thecustom in my father's and grandfather's time; and we always keep itup. I think old customs always should be kept up." r />
  "And do you have the same sort of thing on Sundays, for theout-of-door hands?"

  "What?" said my aunt. It was somewhat more abrupt than polite; but sheprobably felt that Miss Pinshon was a governess.

  "There were only the house servants gathered this morning."

  "Of course; part of them."

  "Have you any similar system of teaching for those who are outside? Ithink you told me they have no church to go to."

  "I should like to know what 'system' you would adopt," said my aunt,"to reach seven hundred people."

  "A church and a minister would not be a bad thing."

  "Or we might all turn missionaries," said Preston; "and go among themwith bags of Bibles round our necks. We might all turn missionaries."

  "Colporteurs," said Miss Pinshon.

  Then I said in my heart, "I will be one." But I went on eating mybreakfast and did not look at anybody; only I listened with all mymight.

  "I don't know about that," said my aunt. "I doubt whether a church anda minister would be beneficial."

  "Then you have a nation of heathen at your doors," said Miss Pinshon.

  "I don't know but they are just as well off," said my aunt. "I doubtif more light would do them any good. They would not understand it."

  "They must be very dark if they could not understand light," said mygoverness.

  "Just as people that are very light cannot understand darkness," saidPreston.

  "I think so," my aunt went on. "Our neighbour Colonel Joram, downbelow here at Crofts, will not allow such a thing as preaching orteaching on his plantation. He says it is bad for them. We alwaysallowed it; but I don't know."

  "Colonel Joram is a heathen himself, you know, mother," said Preston."Don't hold _him_ up."

  "I will hold him up for a gentleman, and a very successful planter,"said Mrs. Gary. "No place is better worked or managed than Crofts. Ifthe estate of Magnolia were worked and kept as well, it would be worthhalf as much again as it ever has been. But there is the difference ofthe master's eye. My brother-in-law never could be induced to settleat Magnolia, nor at his own estates either. He likes it better in thecold North."

  Miss Pinshon made no remark whatever in answer to this statement; andthe rest of the talk at the breakfast-table was about rice.

  After breakfast my school life at Magnolia began. It seemed as if allthe threads of my life there were in a hurry to get into my hand. Ah!I had a handful soon! But this was the fashion of my first day with mygoverness. All the days were not quite so bad; however, it gave thekey of them all.

  Miss Pinshon bade me come with her to the room she and my aunt had agreedshould be the schoolroom. It was the back room of the house, though ithad hardly books enough to be called a library. It had been the study orprivate room of my grandfather; there was a leather-covered table with anold bronze standish; some plain bookcases; a large escritoire; aterrestrial globe; a thermometer and a barometer; and the rest of thefurniture was an abundance of chintz-covered chairs and lounges. Thesewere very easy and pleasant for use; and long windows opening on theverandah looked off among the evergreen oaks and their floating greydrapery; the light in the room and the whole aspect of it was agreeable.If Miss Pinshon had not been there! But she was there, with a terribleair of business; setting one or two chairs in certain positions by awindow, and handing one or two books on the table. I stood meek andhelpless, expectant.

  "Have you read any history, Daisy?"

  I said no; then I said yes, I had; a little.

  "What?"

  "A little of the history of England last summer."

  "Not of your own country?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "And no ancient history?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "You know nothing of the division of the nations, of course?"

  I answered, nothing. I had no idea what she meant; except thatEngland, and America, and France, were different, and of coursedivided. Of Peleg the son of Eber and the brother of Joktan, I thenknew nothing.

  "And arithmetic is something you do not understand," pursued MissPinshon. "Come here, and let me see how you can write."

  With trembling, stiff little fingers--I feel them yet--I wrote somelines under my governess's eye.

  "Very unformed," was her comment. "And now, Daisy, you may sit downthere in the window and study the multiplication table. See how muchof it you can get this morning."

  Was it to be a morning's work? My heart was heavy as lead. At this hour,at Melbourne, my task would have been to get my flat hat and rush outamong the beds of flowers; and a little later, to have up Loupe and godriving whither I would, among the meadows and cornfields. Ah, yes; andthere was Molly who might be taught, and Juanita who might be visited;and Dr. Sandford who might come like a pleasant gale of wind into themidst of whatever I was about. I did not stop to think of them now,though a waft of the sunny air through the open window brought a violentrush of such images. I tried to shut them out of my head and gave myselfwistfully to "three times one is three; three times two is six." MissPinshon helped me by closing the window. I thought she might have let somuch sweetness as that come into the multiplication table. However Istudied its threes and fours steadily for some time; then my attentionflagged. It was very uninteresting. I had never in all my life till thenbeen obliged to study what gave me no pleasure. My mind wandered, andthen my eyes wandered, to where the sunlight lay so golden under the liveoaks. The wreaths of grey moss stirred gently with the wind. I longed tobe out there. Miss Pinshon's voice startled me.

  "Daisy, where are your thoughts?"

  I hastily brought my eyes and wits home and answered, "Out upon thelawn, ma'am."

  "Do you find the multiplication table there?"

  It was so needless to answer! I was mute. I would have come to therash conclusion that nature and mathematics had nothing to do witheach other.

  "You must learn to command your attention," my governess went on. "Youmust not let it wander. That is the first lesson you have to learn. Ishall give you mathematics till you have learnt it. You can do nothingwithout attention."

  I bent myself to the threes and fours again. But I was soon weary; mymind escaped; and without turning my eyes off my book, it swept overthe distance between Magnolia and Melbourne, and sat down by MollySkelton to help her in getting her letters. It was done and I wasthere. I could hear the hesitating utterances; I could see the dullfinger tracing its way along the lines. And then would come thereading _to_ Molly, and the interested look of waiting attention, andonce in a while the strange softening of the poor hard face. Fromthere my mind went off to the people around me at Magnolia; were theresome to be taught here perhaps? and could I get at them? and was thereno other way--could it be there was no other way but by my weak littlevoice--through which some of them were ever to learn about my dearSaviour? I had got very far from mathematics, and my book fell. Iheard Miss Pinshon's voice.

  "Daisy, come here."

  I obeyed and came to the table, where my governess was installed inthe leather chair of my grandfather. She always used it.

  "I should like to know what you are doing."

  "I was thinking," I said.

  "Did I give you thinking to do?"

  "No, ma'am; not of that kind."

  "What kind was it?"

  "I was thinking, and remembering----"

  "Pray what were you remembering?"

  "Things at home--and other things."

  "Things and things," said Miss Pinshon. "That is not a very elegantway of speaking. Let me hear how much you have learned."

  I began. About all of the "threes" was on my tongue; the rest had gotmixed up hopelessly with Molly Skelton and teaching Bible reading.Miss Pinshon was not pleased.

  "You must learn attention," she said. "I can do nothing with you untilyou have succeeded in that. You _must_ attend. Now I shall give you amotive for minding what you are about. Go and sit down again and studythis table till you know the threes and the fours and the fives andthe sixes, perfectly. Go
and sit down."

  I sat down, and the life was all out of me. Tears in the first place hada great mind to come, and would put themselves between me and the figuresin the multiplication table. I governed them back after a while. But Icould not study to purpose. I was tired and down-spirited; I had notenergy left to spring to my task and accomplish it. Over and over again Itried to put the changes of the numbers in my head; it seemed likewriting them in sand. My memory would not take hold of them; could notkeep them; with all my trying I grew only more and more stupefied andfagged, and less capable of doing what I had to do. So dinner came, andMiss Pinshon said I might get myself ready for dinner and after dinnercome back again to my lesson. The lesson must be finished before anythingelse was done.

  I had no appetite. Preston was in a fume of vexation, partly arousedby my looks, partly by hearing that I was not yet free. He was enragedbeyond prudent speaking, but Miss Pinshon never troubled herself abouthis words; and when the first and second courses were removed, told meI might go to my work. Preston called me to stay and have some fruit;but I went on to the study, not caring for fruit or for anything else.I felt very dull and miserable. Then I remembered that my governessprobably did care for some fruit and would be delayed a little while;and then I tried what is the best preparation for study or anythingelse. I got down on my knees, to ask that help which is as willinglygiven to a child in her troubles as to the general of an army. Iprayed that I might be patient and obedient and take disagreeablethings pleasantly and do my duty in the multiplication table. And abreath of rest came over my heart, and a sort of perfume of rememberedthings which I had forgotten; and it quite changed the multiplicationtable to think that God had given it to me to learn, and so that somegood would certainly come of learning it; at least the good ofpleasing Him. As long as I dared I stayed on my knees; then I wasstrong for the fives and sixes.

  But it was not quick work; and though my patience did not flag againnor my attention fail, the afternoon was well on the way before I wasdismissed. I had then permission to do what I liked. Miss Pinshon saidshe would not go to walk that day; I might follow my own pleasure.

  I must have been very tired; for it seemed to me there was hardly anypleasure left to follow. I got my flat and went out. The sun waswesting; the shadows stretched among the evergreen oaks; the outer airwas sweet. I had tried to find Preston first, in the house; but he wasnot to be found; and all alone I went out into the sunshine. It wooedme on. Sunshine and I were always at home together. Without knowingthat I wanted to go anywhere, some secret attraction drew my stepstowards the dell where I had seen Darry. I followed one of severalwell-beaten paths that led towards the quarters through the trees, andpresently came out upon the stables again. All along the dell thesunshine poured. The ground was kept like a pleasure ground, it was soneat; the grass was as clean as the grass of a park; the little stonehouses scattered away down towards the river, with shade trees amongthem, and oaks lining the sides of the dell. I thought surely Magnoliawas a lovely place! if only my father and mother had been there. Butthen, seeing the many cottages, my trouble of the morning pressed uponme afresh. So many people, so many homes, and the light of the Biblenot on them, nor in them? And, child as I was, and little as I knew, Iknew the name of Christ too unspeakably precious, for me to thinkwithout a sore heart, and all these people were without what was thejewel of my life. And they my mother's servants! my father'sdependants! What could I do?

  The dell was alone in the yellow sunlight which poured over the slopefrom the west: and I went musing on till getting to the corner of thestables I saw Darry just round the corner grooming a black horse. Hewas working energetically, and humming to himself as he worked arefrain which I learned afterwards to know well. All I could make outwas, "I'm going home"--several times repeated. I came near before hesaw me, and he started; then bid me good evening and "hoped I foundMagnolia a pleasant place."

  Since I have grown older I have read that wonderful story of Mrs. Stowe'sUncle Tom; he reminded me of Darry then, and now I never think of the onewithout thinking of the other. But Darry, having served a different classof people from Uncle Tom's first owners, had a more polished style ofmanners, which I should almost call courtly; and he was besides a man ofhigher natural parts, and somewhat more education. But much commerce inthe Court which is above all earthly dignities, no doubt had more to dowith his peculiarities than any other cause.

  I asked him what he was singing about home? and where his home was? Heturned his face full upon me, letting me see how grave and gentle hiseye was, and at the same time there was a wistful expression in itthat I felt.

  "Home ain't nowheres here, missie," he said. "I'm 'spectin' to go byand by."

  "Do you mean home up _there_?" said I, lifting my finger towards thesky. Darry fairly laughed.

  "'Spect don't want no other home, missie. Heaven good enough."

  I stood watching him as he rubbed down the black horse, feeling surelythat he and I would be friends.

  "Where is your home here, Darry?"

  "I got a place down there, little missie--not fur."

  "When you have done that horse, will you show me your place? I want tosee where you live."

  "Missie want to see Darry's house?" said he, showing his white teeth."Missie shall see what she mind to. I allus keeps Sadler till thelast, 'cause he's ontractable."

  The black horse was put in the stable, and I followed my black groom downamong the lines of stone huts to which the working parties had not yetreturned. Darry's house was one of the lowest in the dell, out of thequadrangle, and had a glimpse of the river. It stood alone in a prettyplace, but something about it did not satisfy me. It looked square andbare. The stone walls within were rough as the stone-layer had left them;one little four-paned window, or rather casement, stood open; and the airwas sweet; for Darry kept his place scrupulously neat and clean. Butthere was not much to be kept. A low bedstead; a wooden chest; an oddtable made of a piece of board on three legs; a shelf with some kitchenware; that was all the furniture. On the odd table there lay a Bible,that had, I saw, been turned over many a time.

  "Then you can read, Uncle Darry?" I said, pitching on the only thingthat pleased me.

  "De good Lord, He give me dat happiness," the man answered gravely.

  "And you love Jesus, Darry," I said, feeling that we had better cometo an understanding as soon as possible. His answer was an energetic--

  "Bress de Lord! Do Miss Daisy love Him, den?"

  I would have said yes; I did say yes, I believe; but I did not knowhow or why, at this question there seemed a coming together ofgladness and pain which took away my breath. My head dropped onDarry's little window-sill, and my tears rushed forth, like the headof water behind a broken mill-dam. Darry was startled and greatlyconcerned. He wanted to know if I was not well--if I would send himfor "su'thing"--I could only shake my head and weep. I think Darry wasthe only creature at Magnolia before whom I would have so broken down.But somehow I felt safe with Darry. The tears cleared away from myvoice after a little; and I went on with my inquiries again. It was agood chance.

  "Uncle Darry, does no one else but you read the Bible?"

  He looked dark and troubled. "Missie sees--de folks for most part gotno learning. Dey no read, sure."

  "Do you read the Bible to them, Darry?"

  "Miss Daisy knows, dere ain't no great time. Dey's in the field allday, most days, and dey hab no time for to hear."

  "But Sundays?" I said.

  "Do try," he said, looking graver yet. "Me do 'tempt su'thing. Butmissie knows, de Sabbat' be de only day de people hab, and dey tinkmostly of oder tings."

  "And there is no church for you all to go to?"

  "No, missis; no church."

  There was a sad tone in his answer. I did not know how to go on. Iturned to something else.

  "Uncle Darry, I don't think your home looks very comfortable."

  Darry almost laughed at that. He said it was good enough; would lastvery well a little while longer. I
insisted that it was not_comfortable_. It was cold.

  "Sun warm, Miss Daisy. De good Lord, He make His sun warm. And dere befires enough."

  "But it is very empty," I said. "You want something more in it, tomake it look nice."

  "It never empty, Miss Daisy, when de Lord Hisself be here. And He notleave His chil'n alone. Miss Daisy know dat?"

  I stretched forth my little hand and laid it in Darry's great blackpalm. There was an absolute confidence established between us.

  "Uncle Darry," I said, "I _do_ love Him--but sometimes, I want to seepapa!----"

  And therewith my self-command was almost gone. I stood with full eyesand quivering lips, my hand still in Darry's, who on his part wasspeechless with sympathy.

  "De time pass quick, and Miss Daisy see her pa'," he said at last.

  I did not think the time passed quick. I said so.

  "Do little missie ask de Lord for help?" Darry said, his eyes by thistime as watery as mine. "Do Miss Daisy know, it nebber lonesome wherede Lord be? He so good."

  I could not stand any more. I pulled away my hand and stood still,looking out of the window and seeing nothing, till I could make myselfquiet. Then I changed the subject and told Darry I should like to goand see some of the other houses again. I know now, I can see, lookingback, how my childish self-control and reserve made some of thoseimpulsive natures around me regard me with something like worshipfulreverence. I felt it then, without thinking of it or reasoning aboutit. From Darry, and from Margaret, and from Mammy Theresa, and fromseveral others, I had a loving, tender reverence, which not only feltfor me as a sorrowful child, but bowed before me as something ofhigher and stronger nature than themselves. Darry silently attendedme now from house to house of the quarters; introducing and explainingand doing all he could to make my progress interesting and amusing.Interested I was; but most certainly not amused. I did not like thelook of things any better than I had done at first. The places werenot "nice;" there was a coarse, uncared-for air of everything within,although the outside was in such well-dressed condition. No litter onthe grass, no untidiness of walls or chimneys; and no seeming ofcomfortable homes when the door was opened. The village, for itamounted to that, was almost deserted at that hour; only a fewcrooning old women on the sunny side of a wall, and a few half-growngirls, and a quantity of little children, depending for all the carethey got upon one or the other of these.

  "Haven't all these little babies got mothers!" I asked.

  "For sure, Miss Daisy--dey's got modders."

  "Where _are_ the mothers of all these babies, Darry?" I asked.

  "Dey's in de field, Miss Daisy. Home d'rectly."

  "Are they working like _men_ in the fields!" I asked.

  "Dey's all at work," said Darry.

  "Do they do the same work as the men?"

  "All alike, Miss Daisy." Darry's answers were not hearty.

  "But don't their little babies want them?" said I, looking at a groupof girls in whose hands were some very little babies indeed. I thinkDarry made me no answer.

  "But if the men and women both work out," I went on, "papa must givethem a great deal of money; I should think they would have things morecomfortable, Darry. Why don't they have little carpets, and tables andchairs, and cups and saucers? Hardly anybody has teacups and saucers.Have _you_ got any, Uncle Darry?"

  "'Spect I'se no good woman to brew de tea for her ole man," saidDarry; but I thought he looked at me very oddly.

  "Couldn't you make it for yourself, Uncle Darry?"

  "Poor folks don't live just like de rich folks," he answered, quietly,after a minute's pause. "And I don't count fur to want no good t'ing,missie."

  I went on with my observations; my questions I thought I would notpush any further at that time. I grew more and more dissatisfied, thatmy father's work-people should live in no better style and in nobetter comfort. Even Molly Skelton had a furnished and appointedhouse, compared with these little bare stone huts; and mothers thatwould leave their babies for the sake of more wages, must, I thought,be very barbarous mothers. This was all because, no doubt, of havingno church and no Bible. I grew weary. As we were going up the delltowards the stables, I suddenly remembered my pony; and I asked to seehim.

  Darry was much relieved, I fancy, to have me come back to a child'ssphere of action. He had out the fat little grey pony, and talked itover to me with great zeal. It came into my head to ask for a saddle.

  "Dere be a saddle," Darry said, doubtfully. "Massa Preston he done gota saddle dis very day. Dunno where Massa Preston can be."

  I did not heed this. I begged to have the saddle and be allowed to trythe pony. Now Preston had laid a plan that nobody but himself shouldhave the pleasure of first mounting me; but I did not know of thisplan. Darry hesitated, I saw, but he had not the power to refuse me.The saddle was brought out, put on, and carefully arranged.

  "Uncle Darry, I want to get on him--may I?"

  "O' course--Miss Daisy do what she mind to. Him bery good, only somelazy."

  So I was mounted. Preston, Miss Pinshon, the servants' quarters, themultiplication table, all were forgotten and lost in a misty distance. Iwas in the saddle for the first time, and delight held me by both hands.My first moment on horseback! If Darry had guessed it he would have beenterribly concerned; but as it happened, I knew how to take my seat; I hadwatched my mother so often mounting her horse that every detail wasfamiliar to me; and Darry naturally supposed I knew what I was aboutafter I was in my seat. The reins were a little confusing; however, thepony walked off lazily with me to the head of the glen, and I thought hewas an improvement upon the old pony chaise. Finding myself coming outupon the avenue, which I did not wish, it became necessary to get at thepractical use of the bridle. I was at some pains to do it; finally Imanaged to turn the pony's head round, and we walked back in the samesober style we had come up. Darry stood by the stables, smiling andwatching me; down among the quarters the children and old people turnedout to look after me; I walked down as far as Darry's house, turned andcame back again. Darry stood ready to help me to dismount; but it was toopleasant. I went on to the avenue. Just as I turned there, I caught, asit seemed to me, a glimpse of two ladies, coming towards me from thehouse. Involuntarily I gave a sharper pull at the bridle, and I supposetouched the pony's shoulder with the switch Darry had put into my hand.The touch so woke him up, that he shook off his laziness and broke into ashort galloping canter to go back to the stables. This was a newexperience. I thought for the first minute that I certainly should bethrown off; I seemed to have no hold of anything, and I was tossed up anddown on my saddle in the way that boded a landing on the ground everynext time.

  I was not timid with animals, whatever might be true of me in otherrelations. My first comfort was finding that I did _not_ fall off;then I took heart and settled myself in the saddle more securely, gavemyself to the motion, and began to think I should like it by and by.Nevertheless, for this time I was willing to stop at the stables; butthe pony had only just found how good it was to be moving, and he wentby at full canter. Down the dell, through the quarters, past thecottages, till I saw Darry's house ahead of me, and began to think howI _should_ get round again. At that pace I could not. Could I stop thefellow? I tried, but there was not much strength in my arms; one ortwo pulls did no good, and one or two pulls more did no good; ponycantered on, and I saw we were making straight for the river. I knewthat I _must_ stop him; I threw so much good-will into the handling ofmy reins that, to my joy, the pony paused, let himself be turned aboutplacidly, and took up his leisurely walk again. But now I was in ahurry, wanting to be dismounted before anybody should come; and I wasa little triumphant, having kept my seat and turned my horse.Moreover, the walk was not good after that stirring canter. I wouldtry it again. But it took a little earnestness now and more than onetouch of my whip before the pony would mind me. Then he obeyed in goodstyle and we cantered quietly up to where Darry was waiting. The thingwas done. The pony and I had come to an understanding. I was a riderfrom
that time, without fear or uncertainty. The first gentle pull onthe bridle was obeyed and I came to a stop in front of Darry and mycousin Preston.

  I have spent a great deal of time to tell of my ride. Yet not morethan its place in my life then deserved. It was my last half hour ofpleasure for I think many a day. I had cantered up the slope, allfresh in mind and body, excited and glad with my achievement and withthe pleasure of brisk motion; I had forgotten everybody and everythingdisagreeable, or what I did not forget I disregarded; but just beforeI stopped I saw what sent another thrill than that of pleasuretingling through all my veins. I saw Preston, who had but a momentbefore reached the stables, I saw him lift his hand with a lightriding switch he carried, and drew the switch across Darry's mouth. Ishall never forget the coloured man's face, as he stepped back a paceor two. I understood it afterwards; I _felt_ it then. There was noresentment; there was no fire of anger, which I should have expected;there was no manly and no stolid disregard of what had been done.There was instead a slight smile, which to this day I cannot bear torecall; it spoke so much of patient and helpless humiliation; as ofone wincing at the galling of a sore and trying not to show he winced.Preston took me off my horse, and began to speak. I turned away fromhim to Darry, who now held two horses, Preston having just dismounted;and I thanked him for my pleasure, throwing into my manner all thestudied courtesy I could. Then I walked up the dell beside Preston,without looking at him.

  Preston scolded. He had prepared a surprise for me, and was excited byhis disappointment at my mounting without him. Of course I had notknown that; and Darry, who was in the secret, had not known how torefuse. I gave Preston no answer to his charges and reproaches. Atlast I said I was tired and I wished he would not talk.

  "Tired! you are something besides tired," he said.

  "I suppose I am," I answered with great deliberation.

  He was eager to know what it was; but then we came out upon the avenueand were met flush by my aunt and Miss Pinshon. My aunt inquired, andPreston, who was by no means cool yet, accused me about the doings ofthe afternoon. I scarcely heeded one or the other; but I did feel MissPinshon's taking my hand and leading me home all the rest of the way.It was not that I wanted to talk to Preston, for I was not ready totalk to him; but this holding me like a little child was excessivelydistasteful to my habit of freedom. My governess would not loose herclasp when we got to the house; but kept fast hold and led me upstairsto my own room.