CHAPTER XIV.
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS.
_Nods and Becks_ met with great favour and we felt after our laboursthat we had earned the good times we meant to have during the holidays.The Tuckers had decided to come to Bracken for Christmas, so we were inthe seventh heaven of bliss. Annie and Mary could not accept theinvitation that Father had told me to give them as they had to go totheir respective homes, Annie to be with her dignified paternalrelative, and Mary with what she assured us was a far from dignifiedmaternal one.
We had never met any of Mary's people but hoped to some day, as all shetold us of them sounded pretty nice. She had no father but was uniqueamong us as she actually could boast a mother. She had one little tinysister and a big brother who was a mining engineer. The Flannaganslived in the valley of Virginia. They were of rugged Scotch-Irish stock,very different from the softer, aristocratic types to be seen in thetide-water section. Their home was in Harrisonburg and we knewafterwards that they were well off but no word from Mary ever gave us tounderstand it. She always was quick to pay her share and more than hershare in any jaunt we went on together, but I believe I never heard Marymention money. Tweedles and I used to wonder if they were not fabulouslywealthy because of all the material that was wasted in Mary's voluminousskirts. It seems that Mary's mother always wore full skirts and she justhad Mary's made the same way.
The last night before the holidays we broke about all the rules we couldremember. Some may have escaped us, but I doubt it. We cooked in ourrooms; visited in other girls' rooms; laughed and made a racket in thehalls; slid down the bannisters; and were generally obstreperous,--somuch so that Miss Plympton said we would have to work off our demeritswhen we got back from the holidays. This pleasing bit of news sheimparted to us at the very early breakfast we had on the morning of ourdeparture. But we were going home, and threatened demerits after theholidays had no more effect on our spirits than a sermon on hell firewould have had on the ardour of a new-born babe.
On the way to the station we passed our dear old friend, Captain PatLeahy, who was faithfully keeping the gate at the railroad crossing. Hestumped out on his peg leg to give us the "top o' the morning."
"An' phwat do ye hear of that poorrr sick angel, Miss Peyton? Bless herheart!"
"We believe she is recovering, Captain Leahy. We miss her terribly."
"Miss her! I should say ye would, with her winnin' ways and the kindsmile of her. And phwat does the managemint mene by hoistin' a lady onye poorr lambs with the manners of a Tammany boss? Whin I saw herschtriding off of the trrain last Siptimber in her men's clothes, allbut the pants, and a voice like a trrain butcherr, I said to meself:'Pat Leahy, ther'll be trooble oop at Gresham this sission!' I knew itmore than iver whin she pushed me cats away with her oombrella that shecarried like a shillalah. A lady, whin she has no use for cats, iseither a very timid lady and surely no fit person to look arfter agirls' school, or ilse she is that hard-hearted that she ought to havethe job of dhriving a team of mules to a rock waggon."
"How are the cats, Captain?" asked Dee.
"Foine, missy, foine! And here is Oliverr, grown to sich a great schizeye woud scarcely know him. He got over his runtiness jist as soon as youyoung ladies took oop with him."
Oliver came running out of the little gate house at sound of his name.He had indeed grown to be a handsome cat. Dee, of course, had to stopand take him in her arms for a moment. Oliver was the kitten, grown intoa great cat, that Dee had taken to her room the winter before. We wouldnever forget the night he spent with us nor our efforts to feed himmilk, heated over a candle.
"I wonder what Miss Plympton would have said if we had gone to her andconfessed about the kitten, as we did to Miss Peyton," said Dum.
"Said!" exclaimed Captain Leahy. "Why, phwat she would have said wouldnot be fit to print!" and he gave a great laugh which rang pleasantly inour ears as we ran to catch the train that was coming around the curve.
The train was full of girls going home for the holidays and a very gaycrowd we were in spite of its being so very early in the morning. We hadcome off with so little breakfast that it was not worthy of the name.Crackers and jam and weak coffee, heated over from last night's brewing,but not much heated over, just warmed up to the tepid temperature of ababy's bath, is not very satisfying to the growing girl.
I can't see why the food at boarding school for both boys and girlsseems to be the last thing considered. Their minds and morals are lookedafter with great care but their inner men are simply ignored. All thecatalogues say: "Food wholesome and plentiful," but to my mind that atGresham was neither. When it was poor it was plentiful and when it wasplentiful it was poor, but if something was served very good andpalatable, it usually gave out. Under Miss Plympton's regime it was muchworse than when Miss Peyton wielded the scepter. Miss Peyton insisted ona certain balance of diet at least and had many a talk with the dull oldhousekeeper, who, I am sure, was the only person in the world whopreferred Miss Plympton to Miss Peyton. Miss Plympton did not at allobject to three kinds of beans being served at one meal, or sweetpotatoes and Irish potatoes with no touch of green food. On the otherhand when the housekeeper chose to have turnip salad and cabbage on thesame day, so that we felt like Nebuchadnezzar when he ate grass like anox, our principal said nothing. Girls' insides must be disciplined, too.If skim milk was served with their cereal that was more than theydeserved.
During that first half of my second term at Gresham I had to remembervery often what Margaret Sayre had said to me about looking at themountains when things did not go just exactly to suit me. I looked atthem a great deal that first half. I had a good appetite as a rule buthad been spoiled by Mammy Susan, whose one idea seemed to be to give mewhat I wanted, and the consequence was that unless food was well cookedand seasoned, I simply did not eat. Tweedles ate anyhow, but longstretches of cafes or boarding houses had inured them to cooking that Isimply could not stomach.
"You are a regular princess, Page," said Dee to me on that morning whenwe were leaving for the holidays. "Of course the food is bum but it isbetter than going empty."
"Maybe it is, but I can't swallow bad coffee."
"But you are looking as pale as a little ghost and you are so thin youcan't keep on your skirts."
This I could not deny as at that minute I had my skirt lapped over twoinches and pinned with a large safety pin to keep it from dropping offaltogether.
"I'll buck up when I get home. Two weeks of feeding will fill out mybelt again," I laughed.
I left the Tuckers at Richmond and went on that day to Milton whereFather met me and drove me over to Bracken. My, it was good to be home!Mammy Susan almost ate me up for joy, and the dogs actually threw medown in their efforts to get first lick.
"Why, honey, chile, you is sho thin and peaked lookin'," declared mydear old friend. "You ain't no bigger'n a minute. What all themteacher's been a doin' to you?"
"She is thin, Mammy Susan," broke in Father, "and I am going to put heron an iron tonic right away. She tells me she has no appetite."
"Well, now, that's too bad! I done made a mess er chicken gumbo ferdinner and some er them lil bits er thin biscuit. I done knocked up ablackberry roll, too, with hard sauce that is as soft and fluffy as acloud in Spring. It's too bad my baby ain't got no appletite."
It was too bad surely, but if I had had one I don't know what I wouldhave done, as without one I ate like a field hand.
"Looks lak she is able to worry down somethin'," said Mammy Susan witha sly twinkle in her eye as she brought in another plate of hot biscuit."Don't forgit, honey chile, to save a little spot on you innards fer theblackberry roll. It sho do smell toothsome. I is moughty glad themtwinses is comin' down fer Christmas an' they paw, too. Did Docallisontell you that Blanche is goin' to be here enduring of the holidays?"Blanche was Mammy Susan's relative who had cooked for the Tuckers duringthe memorable house-party at Willoughby.
The Tuckers were to come to Bracken on Christmas Eve. We were expectingStephen White, also, a
nd Mammy Susan said Blanche was to arrive on thatday, too. I busied myself helping Mammy Susan prepare for the guests.There was much to be done in the way of fresh curtains in the bed rooms,rubbing silver and furniture, and dusting books. Mammy Susan had plumpudding, fruit cake and pies to make, and I helped with all of them.
The kitchen at Bracken was a wonderful place. I believe I loved it morethan any spot on earth. It was not under the same roof as the house butconnected with it by a covered porch, enclosed in glass. This passageway had been my nursery as a child. Mammy Susan always had it filledwith flowers in winter, gay geraniums in old tomato cans, begonias,heliotrope, ferns and a citronella, that furnished slips for half thecounty. The more slips that were taken from it, the more vigorous itwould become.
"That there limon verbeny 'minds me of Docallison," said Mammy. "The mo'it do give er itself, the mo' it do seem to have ter give. It looks lakas soon as yo' paw done finished wearing hisself out fer somebody,another pusson is a callin' on him; an' jes lak the limon verbeny, hebranches out mo' the mo' he does."
"He is thinking of having some one to help him, Mammy Susan. Don't youthink it would be a good plan?"
"Well, 'twill an' 'twon't! Ef'n he gits a man young enough ter take thebossin' that a helper's boun' ter git, he'll be too young ter suit thedead an' dyin'. Whin folks is sick they don't want no chilluns afeelin' of they pulps."
"But he has in mind a young man who might take the bossing and make agood impression on the patients, too. He is coming on Christmas Eve fora visit and you must tell me what you think of him."
"Is he yo' beau, honey?"
"Why, Mammy Susan, how absurd!"
"'Tain't so terruble absurd. Beaux is lak measles an' mumps. If youdon't have 'em young, you mought go through life 'thout ever havin' 'em,but you is always kinder spectin' tew catch 'em. Ef you take 'em young,you don't take 'em quite so hard."
Mammy Susan's philosophy always delighted me and I encouraged her to goon. I was sitting in the doorway of the kitchen where I could smell theheliotrope and citronella while I chopped apples and meat for the mincepies. Mammy was seeding raisins. She never would let the seeded raisinscome in the house, scorning them as some kind of new-fangled inventionthat would ruin her pies and puddings.
"Them unseedless raisins make lazy folks pies 'thout no virtue orsuption in 'em."
The kitchen was a low ceilinged room about twenty feet square. A rangeand great wood box occupied one side, with a copper sink and a pump.There was no plumbing in Bracken and this primitive pump connected withthe well was all we could boast in the way of conveniences. In the broadwindow sills were more tomato cans of geraniums and various slips thatMammy was starting for neighbours. Skillets and pots and pans of varioussizes were inverted on the many shelves, which were covered withnewspapers with fancy scalloped borders and beautiful open-work patternsthat it had always been my duty and pleasure as a child to cut out forMammy Susan. Festooned from the rafters were long strings of bright redpeppers, dried okra, onions and bunches of thyme and bay. Pots ofparsley and chives occupied one of the sunny windows. Mammy Susan heldthat: "Seasonin' is the maindest thing in cookin', that an' 'lowin'victuals to simper and not bile too hard."
"Mammy, is this going to be enough mince meat?"
"Sho, chile! That's the quantity fer six full pies, none of yo' skimpykin' wif the top pastry sticking to the bottom, lookin' lak some folkswhat don't boast no insides ter speak of,--but the full fleshedkind--them's what I call pies. I'm goin' ter make that there Blanchestir up a Lady Balmoral cake soon's she gits here. The Twinses and theypaw kin git on the ou'side of a passel er victuals, and the saftestthing is ter have a plenty of them cooked up fer 'mergencies. Kin thisnew beau, Mr. White, eat as much as Mr. Tucker?"
"Why, I don't know. I never noticed."
"Well, then you ain't considerin' of him very serious lak. Whin a gal isstudyin' 'bout a man, the very fust thing she takes notice on is hisappletite. She'll know that whin she ain't quite sho what colour hiseyes is, an' she'll want ter dish up his fav'rite victuals ev'y chanctshe gits."
I laughed and went on chopping apples. How peaceful and happyeverything was at Bracken! The wind was blowing up cold and it lookedlike snow but the kitchen was warm, so warm that it easily spared heatfor the glass porch and all the growing plants. The delicious smell ofMammy's fruit cake, baking in the range, mingled with the citronella andthe wine sap apples I was chopping. Mammy reached up and broke off a podof red pepper to drop in the bean soup that was bubbling in a great ironpot.
"Put a little bay in, too, Mammy, I love it." Instead of needing irontonic as Father had thought, I really needed a restraining hand. I feltas though I could never get enough to eat. Bean soup, so despised atGresham, was being made at my request,--but then, there is bean soup andbean soup. "Please, Mammy Susan, have batter bread at least twice a daywhile Mr. Tucker is here. He is just crazy about it."
"All right, honey chile!" I wondered what made Mammy Susan look at me solong and searchingly.
"Is there anything more I can do for you, Mammy?"
"No, chile, the cookery is about 'complished. All I've got ter do now isstraighten up my shelbs with clean papers."
"Oh, please let me cut the papers!"
"'Deed you kin!" exclaimed the old woman delightedly. "I was afeerd youdone got so growd-up with beaux an' things that you done los' yo' tasefer makin' pretty patterns fer the shelbs."
So she got out some big shears and a pile of newspapers and I outdidmyself in wonderful lacy patterns and scallops that made the old kitchenbeautiful for Christmas.