Jewel's Story Book

  CHAPTER X

  THE APPLE WOMAN'S STORY

  Jewel told her grandfather all about it that day while they were havingtheir late afternoon ride.

  "And so the little girl got well," he commented.

  "Yes, and could run and play and have the most _fun_!" returned Jeweljoyously.

  "And aunt Hazel made it up with her nephew."

  "Yes. Why don't people know that all they have to do is to put on more loveto one another? Just supposing, grandpa, that you hadn't loved me so muchwhen I first came."

  "H'm. It _is_ fortunate that I was such an affectionate old fellow!"

  "Mother says we all have to tend the flower and carry it to the King beforewe're really happy. Do you know it made us both think of the same thingwhen at last the man did it."

  "What was that?"

  "Our hymn:--

  'My hope I cannot measure, My path in life is free, My Father has my treasure And He will walk with me!'

  Don't you begin to love mother very much, grandpa?"

  "She is charming."

  "Of course she isn't your real relation, the way I am."

  "Oh, come now. She's my daughter."

  Jewel smiled at him doubtfully. "But so is aunt Madge," she returned.

  "Why, Jewel, I'm surprised that any one who looks so tall as you do in ariding skirt shouldn't know more than that! Mrs. Harry Evringham is _your_mother."

  "I never thought of that," returned the child seriously. "Why, so she is."

  "That brings her very close, very close, you see," said Mr. Evringham, andhis reasoning was clear as daylight to Jewel.

  At dinner that evening she was still further reassured. The child did notknow that the maids in the house, having been scornfully informed by auntMadge of Mrs. Harry's business, were prepared to serve her grudgingly, andregard her visit as being merely on sufferance despite Mrs. Forbes's moreoptimistic view. But the spirit that looked out of Mrs. Evringham's darkeyes and dwelt in the curves of her lips came and saw and conquered. Jewelhad won the hearts of the household, and already its unanimous voice, afterthe glimpses it had had of her mother during two days, was that it was nowonder.

  Even the signs of labor that appeared in Julia's pricked fingers made theserenity of her happy face more charming to her father-in-law. She hadJewel's own directness and simplicity, her appreciation and enjoyment ofall beauty, the child's own atmosphere of unexacting love and gratitude.Every half hour that Mr. Evringham spent with her lessened his regret athaving burned his bridges behind him.

  "Now, you mustn't be lonely here, Julia," he said, that evening at dinner."I have come to be known as something of a hermit by choice; but whileMadge and Eloise lived with me, I fancy they had a good many callers, andthey went out, to the mild degree that society smiles upon in the case of arecent widow and orphan. They were able to manage their own affairs; butyou are a stranger in a strange land. If you desire society, give me a hintand I will get it for you."

  "Oh, no, father!" replied Julia, smiling. "There is nothing I desire less."

  "Mother'll get acquainted with the people at church," said Jewel, "and Iknow she'll love Mr. and Mrs. Reeves. They're grandpa's friends, mother."

  "Yes," remarked Mr. Evringham, busy with his dinner, "some of the bestpeople in Bel-Air have gone over to this very strange religion of yours,Julia. I shan't be quite so conspicuous in harboring two followers of thefaith as I should have been a few years ago."

  "No, it is becoming quite respectable," returned Julia, with twinklingeyes.

  "Three, grandpa, you have three here," put in Jewel. "You didn't countZeke."

  Mrs. Evringham looked up kindly at Mrs. Forbes, who stood by, as usual, inher neat gown and apron.

  "Zeke is really in for it, eh, Mrs. Forbes?" Mr. Evringham asked thequestion without glancing up.

  "Yes, sir, and I have no objection. I'm too grateful for the changes forthe better in the boy. If Jewel had persuaded him to be a fire worshiper Ishouldn't have lifted my voice. I'd have said to myself, 'What's a littlemore fire here, so long as there'll be so much less hereafter.'"

  Mrs. Evringham laughed and the broker shook his head. "Mrs. Forbes, Mrs.Forbes, I'm afraid your orthodoxy is getting rickety," he said.

  "How about your own, father?" asked Julia.

  "Oh, I'm a passenger. You see, I know that Jewel will ask at the heavenlygate if I can come in, and if they refuse, they won't get her, either. Thatmakes me feel perfectly safe."

  Jewel watched the speaker seriously. Mr. Evringham met her thoughtful eyes.

  "Oh, they'll want you, Jewel. Don't you be afraid."

  "I'm not afraid. How could I be? But I was just wondering whether youdidn't know that you'll have to do your own work, grandpa."

  He looked up quickly and met Julia's shining eyes.

  "Dear me," he responded, with an uncomfortable laugh. "Don't I get out ofit?"

  The next morning when Jewel had driven back from the station, and she andher mother had studied the day's lesson, they returned to the ravine,taking the Story Book with them.

  Before settling themselves to read, they counted the new wild flowers thathad unfolded, and Jewel sprinkled them and the ferns, from the brook.

  "Did you ever see anybody look so pretty as Anna Belle does, in thatnecklace?" exclaimed Jewel, fondly regarding her child, enthroned againstthe snowy trunk of a little birch-tree. "It isn't going to be your turn tochoose the story this morning, dearie. Here, I'll give you a daisy to playwith."

  "Wait, Jewel, I think Anna Belle would rather see it growing until we go,don't you?"

  "Would you, dearie? Yes, she says she would; but when we go, we'll takethe sweet little thing and let it have the fun of seeing grandpa's houseand what we're all doing."

  "It seems such a pity, to me, to pick them and let them wither," said Mrs.Evringham.

  "Why, I think they only seem to wither, mother," replied Jewel hopefully."A daisy is an idea of God, isn't it?"

  "Yes, dear."

  "When one seems to wither and go out of sight, we only have to look arounda little, and pretty soon we see the daisy idea again, standing just aswhite and bright as ever, because God's flowers don't fade."

  "That's so, Jewel," returned the mother quietly.

  The child drew a long breath. "I've thought a lot about it, here in theravine. At first I thought perhaps picking a violet might be just as mucherror as killing a bluebird; and then I remembered that we pick the flowerfor love, and it doesn't hurt it nor its little ones; but nobody everkilled a bird for love."

  Mrs. Evringham nodded.

  "Now it's my turn to choose," began Jewel, in a different tone, settlingherself near the seat her mother had taken.

  Mrs. Evringham opened the book and again read over the titles of thestories.

  "Let's hear 'The Apple Woman's Story,'" said Jewel, when she paused.

  Her mother looked up. "Do you remember good old Chloe, who used to comeevery Saturday to scrub for me? Well, something she told me of anexperience she once had, when she was a little girl, put the idea of thistale into my head; and I'll read you

  THE APPLE WOMAN'S STORY

  Franz and Emilie and Peter Wenzel were little German children, born inAmerica. Their father was a teacher, and his children were alone with himexcept for the good old German woman, Anna, who was cook and nurse too inthe household. She tried to teach Franz and Emilie to be good children, andtook great care of Peter, the sturdy three-year-old boy, a fat, solemnbaby, whose hugs were the greatest comfort his father had in the world.

  Franz and Emilie had learned German along with their English by hearing itspoken in the house, and it was a convenience at times, for instance, whenthey wished to say something before the colored apple woman which they didnot care to have her understand; but the apple woman did not think theywere polite when they used an unknown tongue before her.

  "Go off fum here," she would say to them when they began to talk in German."None o' that lingo round my stand. Go off and lea
rn manners." And whenFranz and Emilie found she was in earnest they would ask her to forgivethem in the politest English they were acquainted with; for they were verymuch attached to the clean, kind apple woman, whose stand was near theirfather's house. They admired her bright bandana headdress and thought herthe most interesting person in the world. As for the apple woman, she hadhad so many unpleasant experiences with teasing children that she did nottake Franz and Emilie into her favor all at once, but for some timeaccepted their pennies and gave them their apples when they came to buy,watching them suspiciously with her sharp eyes to make sure that they werenot intending to play her any trick.

  But even before they had become regular customers she decided under herbreath that they were "nice chillen;" and when she came to know them betterher kind heart overflowed to them.

  One morning as they smiled and nodded to her on the way to school, shecalled out and beckoned.

  "Apples for the little baskets?"

  "Not to-day," answered Emilie.

  She beckoned to them again with determination, and the children approached.

  "We forgot to brush our teeth last night," explained Franz, "so we haven'tany penny."

  "I forgot it," said Emilie, "and Franz didn't remind me, so we neither ofus got it. That's the way Anna makes us remember."

  "Never you mind, honey, here's apples for love," replied the colored woman,holding up two rosy beauties.

  The children looked at one another and shook their heads.

  "Thank you," said Emilie, "but we can't. Papa said the last time you gavethem to us that if we ate your apples without paying for them we mustn'tcome to visit you any more."

  "Now think o' that!" exclaimed the apple woman when the children had goneon. She was much touched and pleased to know that Franz and Emilie wouldrather come and sit and talk to her and listen to her stories than to eather apples.

  She was right; they were nice children; but they had their naughty times,and good old Anna was often greatly troubled by them. She felt herresponsibility of the whole family very deeply, and tried to talk no moreGerman. These children must grow up to be good Americans, and she must nothold them back. It was very hard for the poor woman to remember always tospeak English, and funny broken English it was; so that little Peter,hearing it all the time, had a baby talk of his own that was very comicaland different from other children. He talked about the "luckle horse" heplayed with, and the "boomps" he got when he fell down, and he was verybrave and serious, as became a fat baby boy who had to take care of himselfa great deal.

  Anna was so busy cooking and mending for a family of five she was very gladof the hours when Mr. Wenzel worked at home at his desk and baby Petercould stay in the same room with him and play with his toys.

  Mr. Wenzel was a kind father and longed as far as possible to fill theplace of mother also to his children, who loved him dearly. To little Peterhe was all-powerful. A kiss from papa soothed the hardest "boomp" that hismany tumbles gave him; but even Peter realized that when papa was at hisdesk he was very busy indeed, and though any of the children might sit inthe room with him, they must not speak unless it was absolutely necessary.

  Emilie was now eight years old, and she might have helped her father andAnna more than she did; but she never thought of this. She loved to read,especially fairy stories, and she often curled up on the sofa in herfather's room and read while Peter either played about the room with histoys, or went to papa's desk and stood with his round eyes fixed on Mr.Wenzel's face until the busy man would look up from his papers and ask:"What does my Peter want?"

  Especially did Emilie fly to this refuge in papa's room after a quarrelwith Franz, and I'm sorry to say she had a great many. The apple womanfound out that the little brother and sister were not always amiable. Annahad confided in her; and then one day the children approached her standcontradicting each other, their voices growing louder and louder as theycame, until at last Franz made a face at Emilie, giving her a push, andshe, quick as a kitten, jumped forward and slapped him.

  What Franz would have done after this I don't know, if the apple womanhadn't said, "Chillen, chillen!" so loud that he stopped to look at her.

  "Ah, listen at that fairy Slap-back a-laughin'!" cried the apple woman.

  "The fairy Flapjack?" asked Franz, as he and his sister forgot their wrathand ran toward the stand.

  "_Flapjack!_" repeated the apple woman with scorn, as the children nestleddown, one each side of her. "Yo' nice chillen pertendin' not to know yo'friends!"

  "What friends? What?" asked Emilie eagerly.

  "The fairy Slap-back. P'raps I didn't see her jest now, a-grinnin' over yo'shoulder."

  "Is she anybody to be afraid of?" asked Emilie, big-eyed.

  "To be sho' she is if you-all go makin' friends with her," returned theapple woman, with a knowing sidewise nod of her head. Then drawing backfrom the children with an air of greatest surprise, "You two don't mean tocome here tellin' me you ain't never heerd o' the error-fairies?" sheasked.

  "Never," they both replied together.

  "Shoo!" exclaimed the apple woman. "If you ain't the poor igno'antest w'itechillen that ever lived. Why, if you ain't never heerd on 'em, yo're likelyto be snapped up by 'em any day in the week as you was jest now."

  "Oh, tell us. Do tell us!" begged Franz and Emilie.

  "Co'se I will, 'case 't ain't right for them mis'able creeturs to behangin' around you all, and you not up to their capers. Fust place they'recalled the error-fairies 'case they're all servants to a creetur namedError. She's a cheat and a humbug, allers pertendin' somethin' or other,and she makes it her business to fight a great and good fairy named Love.Now Love--oh, chillen, my pore tongue can't tell you of the beauty andgoodness o' the fairy Love! She's the messenger of a great King, and spendsher whole time a-blessin' folks. Her hair shines with the gold o' the sun;her eyes send out soft beams; her gown is w'ite, and when she moves 'tis asif forget-me-nots and violets was runnin' in little streams among itsfolds. Ah, chillen," the apple woman shook her head, "she's the blessin' o'the world. Her soft arms are stretched out to gather in and comfort everysorrowin' heart.

  "Well, 'case she was so lovely an' the great King trusted her, Errorthought she'd try her hand; but she hadn't any king, Error hadn't. Therewa'n't nobody to stand for her or to send her on errands. She was alow-lifed, flabby creetur," the apple woman made a scornful grimace; "jesta misty-moisty nobody; nothin' to her. Her gown was a cloud and she wa'n'tno more 'n a shadder, herself, until she could git somebody to listen toher. When she did git somebody to listen to her, she'd begin to stiffen upand git some backbone and git awful sassy; so she crep' around whisperin'to folks that Love was no good, and 'lowin' that she--that mis'ablecreetur--was the queen o' life.

  "Some folks knowed better and told her so, right pine blank, an' thenstraight off she'd feel herself changin' back into a shadder, an' sail awayas fast as she could to try it on somebody else. She was ugly to look at asa bad dream, but yet there was lots o' folks would pay 'tention to her, andafter they'd listened once or twice, she kep' gittin' stronger and pearter,an' as she got stronger, they got weaker, and every day it was harder fer'em to drive her off, even after they'd got sick of her.

  "Then, even if she didn't have a king, she had slaves; oh, dozens anddozens of error-fairies, to do her will. Creepin' shadders they was, too,till somebody listened to 'em and give 'em a backbone. There's--let mesee"--the apple woman looked off to jog her memory--"there's Laziness,Selfishness, Backbitin', Cruelty--oh, I ain't got time to tell 'em all; an'not one mite o' harm in one of 'em, only for some silly mortal that listensand gives the creetur a backbone. They jest lop over an' melt away, thewhole batch of 'em, when Love comes near. She knows what no-accounthumbugs they are, you see; and they jest lop over an' melt away whenevereven a little chile knows enough to say 'Go off fum here, an' quitpesterin''!"

  Franz and Emilie stared at the apple woman and listened hard. Their cheeksmatched the apples.

  "What happened a minute ago
to you-all? An error-creetur named Slap-backwhispered to you. 'Quarrel!' says she. What'd you do? Did you say 'Go off,you triflin' vilyun'?

  "Not a bit of it. You quarreled; an' Slap-back kep' gittin' bigger andstronger and stiffer in the backbone while you was goin' it, an' at last upcomes this little hand of Emilie's. Whack! That was the time Slap-backcouldn't hold in, an' she jest laughed an' laughed over yo' shoulder. Ah,the little red eyes she had, and the wiry hair! And that other one, thefairy, Love, she was pickin' up her w'ite gown with both hands an' flyin'off as if she had wings. Of course you didn't notice her. You was too takenup with yo' friend."

  "But Slap-back isn't our friend," declared Emilie earnestly.

  The apple woman shook her head. "Bless yo' heart, honey, it's mean to denyit now; but, disown her or not, she'll stick to you and pester you; andyou'll find it out if ever you try to drive her off. You'll have as hard atime as little Dinah did."

  "What happened to Dinah?" asked Franz, picking up the apple woman's cleantowel and beginning to polish apples.

  "Drop that, now, chile! Yo' friend might cast her eye on it. I don't wantto sell pizened apples."

  Franz, crestfallen, obeyed, and glanced at Emilie. They had never beforefound their assistance refused, and they both looked very sober.

  "Little Dinah was a chile lived 'way off down South 'mongst the cottonfields; and that good fairy watched over Dinah,--Love, so sweet to look atshe'd make yo' heart sing.

  "Dinah had a little brother, too, jest big enough to walk; an' a daddy thatworked from mornin' till night to git hoe-cake 'nuff fer 'em all; and hisole mammy, she helped him, and made the fire, and swept the room, and dugin the garden, and milked the cow. She was a good woman, that ole mammy,an' 't was a great pity there wa'n't nobody to help 'er, an' she gittin'older every day."

  "Why, there was Dinah," suggested Emilie.

  The apple woman stared at her with both hands raised. "Dinah! Lawsy massy,honey, the only thing that chile would do was look at pictur' books an'play with the other chillen. She wouldn't even so much as pick up baby Mosewhen he tumbled down an' barked his shin. Oh, but she was a triflin' lazylittle nigger as ever you see."

  "And that's why the red-eyed fairy got hold of her," said Franz, who waslonging to hear something exciting.

  "'Twas, partly," said the apple woman. "You see there's somethin' verystrange about them fairies, Love and the error-fairies. The error-fairies,they run after the folks that love themselves, and Love can only come nearthem that loves other people. Sounds queer, honey, but it's the truth; so,when Dinah got to be a likely, big gal, and never thought whether the olemammy was gittin' tired out, or tried to amuse little Mose, or gave athought o' pity to her pore daddy who was alone in the world, the fairyLove got to feelin' as bad as any fairy could.

  "'Do, Dinah,'" she said, with her sweet mouth close to Dinah's ear, 'dostop bein' so triflin', and stir yo'self to be some help in the house.'

  "'No,' says Dinah, 'I like better to lay in the buttercups and look atpictur's,' says she.

  "'Then,' says Love, 'show Mose the pictur's, too, and make him happy.'

  "'No,' says Dinah, 'he's too little, an' he bothers me an' tears my book.'

  "'Then,' says Love, 'yo'd rather yo' tired daddy took care o' the chileafter his hard day's work.'

  "'Now yo're talkin',' says Dinah. 'I shorely would. My daddy's strong.'

  "The tears came into Love's eyes, she felt so down-hearted. 'Yo' daddyneeds comfort, Dinah,' she says, 'an' yo're big enough to give it to him,'says she; 'an' look at the black smooches on my w'ite gown. They're allbecause o' you, Dinah, that I've been friends with so faithful. I've got toleave you now, far enough so's my gown'll come w'ite; but if you call meI'll hear, honey, an' I'll come. Good-by,'

  "'Good riddance!' says Dinah. 'I'm right down tired o' bein' lectured,'says she. 'Now I can roll over in the buttercups an' sing, an' be happy an'do jest as I please.'

  "So Dinah threw herself down in the long grass and, bing! she fell rightatop of a wasp, and he was so scared at such capers he stung her in thecheek. Whew! You could hear her 'way 'cross the cotton field!

  "Her ole gran'mam comforted her, the good soul. 'Never you mind, honey,'she says, 'I'll swaje it fer you.'

  "But every day Dinah got mo' triflin'. She pintedly wouldn't wash thedishes, nor mind little Mose; an' every time the hot fire o' temper ranover her, she could hear a voice in her ear--'Give it to 'em good. That'sthe way to do it, Dinah!' An' it kep' gittin' easier to be selfish an' tolet her temper run away, an' the cabin got to be a mighty pore place jeston account o' Dinah, who'd ought to ha' been its sunshine.

  "As for the fairy, Love, Dinah never heerd her voice, an' she never calledto her, though there was never a minute when she didn't hate the sound o'that other voice that had come to be in her ears more 'n half the time.

  "One mornin' everything went wrong with Dinah. Her gran'mam was plummis'able over her shif'less ways, an' she set her to sew a seam befo' shecould step outside the do'. The needle was dull, the thread fell in knots.Dinah's brow was mo' knotted up than the thread. Her head felt hot.

  "'Say you won't do it,' hissed the voice.

  "'I'll git thrashed if I do. Gran'mam said so.'

  "'What do you care!' hissed the voice; and jest as the fairy Slap-back wastalkin' like this, up comes little Mose to Dinah, an' laughs an' pulls herwork away.

  "Then somethin' awful happened. Dinah couldn't 'a' done it two weeks back;but it's the way with them that listens to that mis'able, low-lifedSlap-back. Jest as quick as a wink, that big gal, goin' on nine, slappedbaby Mose. He was that took back for a minute that he didn't cry; but thehateful voice laughed an' hissed an' laughed again.

  "Good, Dinah, good! Now you'll ketch it!'

  "Then over went little Mose's lip, an' he wailed out, an' Dinah clasped hernaughty hands an' saw a face close to her--a bad one, with red eyesshinin'. She jumped away from it, for it made her cold to think she'd beenhavin' sech a playfeller all along.

  "'Oh, Love, y' ain't done fergit me, is yer? Come back, Love, _Love_!' shecalled; then she dropped on her knees side o' Mose an' called him her honeyan' her lamb, an' she cried with him, an' pulled him into her lap, an' whenthe ole gran'mam come in from where she'd been feedin' the hens, they wasboth asleep."

  Franz took a long breath, for the way the apple woman told a story alwaysmade him listen hard. "I guess that was the last of old Slap-back withDinah," he remarked.

  The apple woman shook her head. "That's the worst of that fairy," she said."Love'll clar out when you tell 'er to, 'case she's quality, an' she's gotmanners; but Slap-back ain't never had no raisin'. She hangs around, an'hangs around, an' is allers puttin' in her say jest as she was a fewminutes ago with you and Emilie in the road there. There's nothin' in thisworld tickles her like a chile actin' naughty, 'ceptin' it's two chillenscrappin'. Now pore little Dinah found she had to have all her wits abouther to keep Love near, an' make that ornery Slap-back stay away. Love wasas willin', as willin' to stay as violets is to open in the springtime;but when Dinah an' Slap-back was both agin her, what could she do? An'Dinah, she'd got so used to Slap-back, an' that bodacious creetur had secha way o' gittin' around the chile, sometimes, 'fore Dinah knew it, she'd belistenin' to 'er ag'in; but Dinah'd had one good scare an' she didn't meanto give in. Jest now, too, her daddy fell sick. That good man, that lonelyman, he'd had a mighty hard time of it, an' no chile to care or love 'im."

  "Wait," interrupted Emilie sternly. "If you are going to let Dinah's fatherdie, I'm going home."

  The apple woman showed the whites of her eyes in the astonished stare shegave her.

  "Because"--Emilie swallowed and then finished suddenly--"because itwouldn't be nice."

  The apple woman looked straight out over her stand. "Well, he didn't, an'Dinah made him mighty glad he got well, too; for she stopped buryin' herhead in pictur' books, an' she did errands for gran'mam without whinin',an' she minded Mose so her daddy had mo' peace when he come home tuckeredout; an' when
she'd got so she could smile at the boy in the next cabin,'stead o' runnin' out her tongue at him, the fairy, Love, could stay bywithout smoochin' her gown, an' Slap-back had to melt away an' sail off totry her capers on some other chile."

  "But you needn't pretend you saw her with us," said Franz uneasily.

  The apple woman nodded her red bandana wisely. "Folks that lives outdoorsthe way I do, honey, sees mo' than you-all," she answered.

  Emilie ran home ahead of her brother, and softly entered her father'sroom. He was at his desk, as was usual at this hour. His head leaned on hishand, and he was so deep in his work that he did not notice her quietentrance. She curled up on the sofa in her usual attitude, but instead ofreading she watched little Peter on the floor building his block house. Hischubby hands worked carefully until the crooked house grew tall, then inturning to find a last block he bumped his head on the corner of a chair.

  Emilie watched him rub the hurt place in silence. Then he got up on his fatlegs and went to the desk, where he stood patiently, his round face veryred and solemn, while he waited to gain his father's attention.

  At last the busy man became conscious of the child's presence, and,turning, looked down into the serious eyes.

  "I'm here wid a boomp," said Peter. Then after receiving the consolation ofa hug and kiss he returned contentedly to his block house.

  Emilie saw her father look after the child with a smile sad and tender. Herheart beat faster as she lay in her corner. Her father was lonely and hardworked, with no one to take pity on him. A veil seemed to drop from hereyes, even while they grew wet.

  "I don't believe I'm too old to change, even if I am going on nine,"thought Emilie. At that minute the block house fell in ruins, and Peter,self-controlled though he was, looked toward the desk and began to whimper.

  "Peter--Baby," cried Emilie softly, leaning forward and holding out thepicture of a horse in her book.

  Her father had turned with an involuntary sigh, and seeing Peter trottoward the sofa and Emilie receive him with open arms, went back to hispapers with a relief that his little daughter saw. Her breath came fast andshe hugged the baby. Something caught in her throat.

  "Oh, papa, you don't know how many, _many_ times I'm going to do it," shesaid in the silence of her own full heart.

  And Emilie kept that unspoken promise.