The Minister's Wooing
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE QUILTING.
THE announcement of the definite engagement of two such brightparticular stars in the hemisphere of the Doctor’s small parish excitedthe interest that such events usually create among the faithful of theflock.
There was a general rustle and flutter, as when a covey of wild pigeonshas been started, and all the little elves who rejoice in the name of‘says he,’ and ‘says I,’ and ‘do tell,’ and ‘have you heard,’ werespeedily flying through the consecrated air of the parish.
The fact was discussed by matrons and maidens at the spinning-wheel andin the green clothes-yard, or at the foaming wash-tub, out of whicharose a new birth of weekly freshness and beauty. Many a rustic Venusof the foam, as she splashed her dimpled elbows in the rainbow-tintedfroth, talked what should be done for the forthcoming solemnities, andwondered what Mary would have on when she was married, and whethershe (the Venus) should get an invitation to the wedding, and whether‘Ethan’ would go—not that she cared in the least whether he did or not.
Grave elderly matrons talked about the ‘prosperity of Zion,’ whichthey imagined intimately connected with the event of their minister’smarriage; and descending from ‘Zion,’ speculated on bed-quilts andtable-cloths, and rummaged their own clean, sweet-smelling stores,fragrant with balm and rose-leaves, to lay out a bureau cover, or apair of sheets, or a dozen napkins for the wedding outfit.
The solemnest of solemn quiltings was resolved upon.
Miss Prissy declared that she fairly couldn’t sleep nights with theresponsibility of the wedding-dresses in her mind; but yet she ‘mustgive one day to getting on that quilt.’ The _grande monde_ also wasin motion. Mrs. General Wilcox called in her own particular carriage,bearing the present of a cashmere shawl for the bride, with theGeneral’s best compliments, and also an oak-leaf pattern for quilting,which had been sent her from England, and which was authenticallyestablished to be that used on a petticoat belonging to the PrincessRoyal; and Mrs. Major Seaforth came also, bearing a scarf of workedIndian muslin; and Mrs. Vernon sent a splendid Indian china punch-bowl.Indeed, to say the truth, the notables high and mighty of Newport, whomthe Doctor had so unceremoniously accused of building their houses withblood, and establishing their city with iniquity, considering thatnobody seemed to take his words to heart, and that they were makingmoney as fast as old Tyre, rather assumed the magnanimous, and pattedthemselves on the shoulder for this opportunity to show the Doctorthat, after all, they were good fellows, and bore him no malice, thoughthey did make money at the expense of thirty per cent. human life.
Simeon Brown was the only exception: he stood aloof, grim andsarcastic, and informed some good, middle-aged ladies who came to seeif he would, as they phrased it, ‘esteem it a privilege’ to add hismite to the Doctor’s outfit, that he would give him a likely negro boyif he wanted, and if he was too conscientious to keep him, he mightsell him at a fair profit; a happy stroke of humour, which he was fondof relating many years after.
The quilting was in these days considered as the most solemn andimportant recognition of a betrothal; and for the benefit of those notto the manner born, a little preliminary instruction may be necessary.
The good wives of New England, impressed with that thrifty orthodoxy ofeconomy which forbids to waste the merest trifle, had a habit of savingevery scrap and fragment clipped out in the fashioning of householdgarments; and these they cut into fanciful patterns, and constructedof them rainbow shapes and quaint traceries, the arrangement ofwhich became one of their few fine arts. Many a maiden, as she sortedand arranged fluttering bits of green, yellow, red, and blue, feltrising in her breast a passion for somewhat vague and unknown, whichcame out at length in a new pattern of patchwork; and collections ofthese tiny fragments were always ready to fill an hour when there wasnothing else to do; and as the maiden chatted with her beaux, her busy,flying needle stitched together the pretty morsels, which, little inthemselves, were destined by gradual unions and accretions to bringabout at last substantial beauty, warmth, and comfort; emblems thusof that household life which is to be brought to stability and beautyby reverent economy in husbanding, and tact in arranging the little,useful, and agreeable morsels of daily existence.
When a wedding was forthcoming, then there was a solemn review of thestores of beauty and utility thus provided, and the patchwork-spreadbest worthy of such distinction was chosen for the quilting.
Thereto, duly summoned, trooped all intimate female friends of thebride, and the quilt being spread on a frame, and wadded with cotton,each vied with the other in the delicacy of the quilting they couldput upon it; for quilting also was a fine art, and had its delicaciesand nice points, concerning which, grave, elderly matrons discussedwith judicious care. The quilting generally began at an early hourin the afternoon, and ended at dusk with a great supper and generaljubilee, in which that ignorant and incapable sex who could not quiltwere allowed to appear, and put in claims for consideration of anothernature. It may perhaps be surmised that this expected reinforcementwas often alluded to by the younger maidens, whose wickedly coquettishtoilettes exhibited suspicious marks of that willingness to geta chance to say ‘No,’ which has been slanderously attributed tomischievous maidens.
In consequence of the tremendous responsibilities involved in thisquilting, the reader will not be surprised to learn that the eveningbefore Miss Prissy made her appearance at the brown cottage, armed withthimble, scissors, and pincushion, in order to relieve her mind by alittle preliminary confabulation.
‘You see me, Miss Scudder, run almost to death,’ she said; ‘but Ithought I would just run up to Mrs. Major Seaforth’s and see her bestbedroom quilt, ’cause I wanted to have all the ideas we possibly couldbefore I decided on the pattern. Hers is in shells—just common shells;nothing to be compared with Miss Wilcox’s oak-leaves; and I supposethere isn’t the least doubt that Miss Wilcox’s sister in London didget that from a lady who had a cousin who was governess in the royalfamily, and I just quilted a little bit to-day on an old piece of silk,and it comes out beautiful, and so I thought I would just come and askyou if you did not think it was best for us to have the oak-leaves.’
‘Well, certainly, Miss Prissy, if you think so,’ said Mrs. Scudder, whowas as pliant to the opinions of this wise woman of the parish as NewEngland matrons generally are to a reigning dressmaker and factotum.
Miss Prissy had the happy consciousness always that her early adventunder any roof was considered a matter of special grace, and thereforeit was with rather a patronizing tone that she announced that she wouldstay and spend the night with them.
‘I knew,’ she added, ‘that your spare chamber was full with that Madamede What-you-call-her (if I was to die I could not remember the woman’sname). Well, I thought I could just crawl in with you, Mary, mostanywhere.’
‘That’s right, Miss Prissy,’ said Mary, ‘you shall be welcome to halfmy bed any time.’
‘Well, I knew you would say so, Mary; I never saw the thing you wouldnot give away half of since you was that high,’ said Miss Prissy,illustrating her words by placing her hand about two feet from thefloor.
Just at this moment Madame de Frontignac entered and asked Mary to comeinto her room, and give her advice as to a piece of embroidery. Whenshe was gone out, Miss Prissy looked after her, and sank her voice oncemore to the confidential whisper which we before described.
‘I have heard strange stories about that French woman,’ she said; ‘butas she was here with you and Mary, I suppose there cannot be any truthin them. Dear me! the world is so censorious about women! But then, youknow, we don’t expect much from French women. I suppose she is a RomanCatholic, and worships pictures and stone images; but then, after all,she has got an immortal soul, and I can’t help hoping Mary’s influencemay be blest to her. They say when she speaks French she swears everyfew minutes; but if that is the way she was brought up, maybe she isn’taccountable. I think we can’t be too charitable for people that a’n’tprivileg
ed as we are. Miss Vernon’s Polly told me she has seen her sewSabbath day. She came into her room of a sudden, and she was working onher embroidery there, and she never winked, nor blushed, nor offered toput it away, but sat there just as easy! Polly said she never was sobeat in all her life; she felt kind o’ scared every time she thought ofit. But now she has come here, who knows but she may be converted?’
‘Mary has not said much about her state of mind,’ said Mrs. Scudder;‘but something of deep interest has passed between them. Mary is suchan uncommon child that I trust everything to her.’
We will not dwell further on the particulars of this evening, nordescribe how Madame de Frontignac reconnoitred Miss Prissy with keen,amused eyes; nor how Miss Prissy apprised Mary, in the confidentialsolitude of her chamber, that her fingers just itched to get hold ofthat trimming on that Madame de Frogsneck’s dress, because she waspretty nigh sure she could make some just like it; for she never sawany trimming she could not make.
The robin that lived in the apple-tree was fairly out-generalled thenext morning, for Miss Prissy was up before him, tripping about thechamber on the points of her toes, and knocking down all the moveablethings in the room in her efforts to be still, so as not to waken Mary;and it was not until she had finally upset the stand by the bed, withthe candlestick, snuffers, and Bible on it, that Mary opened her eyes.
‘Miss Prissy! dear me! What is it you are doing?’
‘Why I am trying to be still, Mary, so as not to wake you up, and itseems to me as if everything was possessed to tumble down so. But itis only half-past three, so you turn over and go to sleep.’
‘But, Miss Prissy,’ said Mary, sitting up in bed, ‘you are all dressed;where are you going?’
‘Well, to tell the truth, Mary, I am just one of those people thatcan’t sleep when they have got responsibility on their minds; and I’vebeen lying awake more than an hour here, thinking about that quilt.There is a new way of getting it on to the frame that I want to try,’cause you know when we quilted Cerinthy Stebbins’ it would trouble usin the rolling; and I have got a new way that I want to try, and I meanjust to get it into the frame before breakfast. I was in hopes I shouldget out without waking any of you; and now I don’t know as I shall getby your mother’s door without waking her (’cause I know she works hard,and needs her rest); but that bedroom door squawks like a cat—enough toraise the dead!
‘Mary,’ she added, with sudden energy, ‘if I had the least drop ofoil in a teacup, and a bit of quill, I’d stop that door making such anoise.’ And Miss Prissy’s eyes glowed with resolution.
‘I don’t know where you could find any at this time,’ said Mary.
‘Well, never mind, I’ll just go and open the door as slow and carefulas I can,’ said Miss Prissy, as she trotted out of the apartment.
The result of her carefulness was very soon announced to Mary by aprotracted sound resembling the mewing of a hoarse cat, accompaniedwith sundry audible grunts from Miss Prissy, terminating in a grandfinale of clatter, occasioned by her knocking down all the pieces ofthe quilt-frame that stood in a corner of the room, with a concussionthat roused everybody in the house.
‘What is that?’ called out Mrs. Scudder from her bedroom.
She was answered by two streams of laughter; one from Mary, sitting upin bed, and the other from Miss Prissy, holding her sides, as she satdissolved in merriment on the sanded floor.