Twilight Stories Part 19

I will dig me a garden and plant it with seeds, I will hoe and water it and keep down the weeds; Then perhaps some of these bright summer days, To mamma I can carry big boquets.

CARYL'S PLUM.

"He put in his thumb And pulled out a plum."

So sang Caryl over the stairs.

"Now if HE pulled out a plum, why shouldn't SHE?" she said to herself, halting a bit by the landing window. "And a good big plum too--nice and juicy. O Aunt Sylvia, Aunt Sylvia!"

She fairly hugged herself in glee, then drew one long breath and dashed on to her own poor little room.

"Oh, you here, Viny?" she exclaimed in surprise as she flung open the door.

A small figure rose to a perpendicular position in front of the old bureau, while a shoving-to of the under drawer proclaimed some attention having been paid to the pretty laces, ribbons, and various other adornments packed away for safe keeping.

Caryl remembered leaving the key in the drawer after taking out a bit of lavender ribbon the night before for Aunt Sylvia's cap.

"What have you been doing?" she asked sharply; and taking hold of the small wiry shoulder, she looked down into a little black face whose eyes were staring solemnly into the farthest corner of the room.

"Ben doin'?" repeated Viny, scared almost to death inwardly, but preserving a cool exterior. "Nothin', only shettin' the draw'; plaguey thing wouldn't stay put. Tore my dress," she added mumblingly to fill out the pause.

"Where?" said Caryl, looking sharply at her.

"Dar," said Viny, with a violent twist, so that she could compa.s.s the back breadths of her blue gingham frock, and she pointed abruptly to a cat-a-cornered rent.

"Oh, no, you didn't," contradicted Caryl, looking her through and through, and giving her a small shake, "tear that either; I heard Maum Patty scold you yesterday for letting Jip bite it and snip out a piece."

"Well, somefin tore," said Viny. "I donno whar 'tis, but it's somewhars.

A mighty smart tare, too, Miss Ca."

"I'll lock, and lock, and lock," declared the young girl, now down on her knees before her precious drawer, "before I run the chance of your rummaging fingers getting here again. Now then, Viny!"

"Yes'm," said the little black girl obsequiously, and rolling her eyes to all quarters; "Oh, yes'm!"

"We are going to move, Viny," said her young mistress, taking the key out of its lock, and turning her back on drawers and contents, to sit on the floor with hands folded in her lap while she watched the effect of her words.

"MOVE?" echoed Viny with a start; "Oh, lawks! whatever's dat, Miss?"

"Why, go to a new place," said Caryl, laughing in spite of herself. "For mercy's sake, child, do take your eyes in! It'll be very fine, Viny, oh, so fine!" she cried enthusiastically.

"An' lib here nebber no mo'?" cried the little black figure in a shrill scream; "wot, an' hev no leaky sink dat keps me a-swas.h.i.+n' and a-swas.h.i.+n', an' no old ruf dat lets in hull buckets full o' water onter de bed, an'--"

"No," said Caryl, interrupting the steady stream of invective against the old heuse, "everything's to be as new and nice and neat as a pin, Viny--sinks and everything else; you can't begin to think how splendid it's to be!"

"I'm goin' to tell gramma," cried Viny, wholly off her balance, "dis berry same minnit. Lawks! but won't she be tickled to leave the ole sh.e.l.l! Den I'll git my bunnet an' go wid yer, Miss Ca, in tree shakes of a lobster's whisker!"

She scampered in the greatest excitement to the door, when a detaining pull on the end of her long ap.r.o.n, brought her to a full stop.

"You are crazy, child!" exclaimed Caryl, bursting into a laugh and holding her fast. "We can't go this moment, no matter how bad the old house is. Listen, Viny!"

But the small figure flung itself into a heap on the floor so suddenly that she nearly pulled her young mistress with her, while the little black hands clapped themselves over the bead like eyes, wail after wail of disappointment making the room to ring.

"Will you STOP!" cried Caryl in perfect despair. "Aunt Sylvia's head will snap with your noise! If you don't stop crying, Viny, you sha'n't go when the rest of us are ready to move, so there, now."

Threats had the power to do what nothing else could. Viny wiped off all the tears with the backs of her grimy little paws, gave two or three concluding sniffs, sat up straight, and was immediately all right for further developments.

"Now then"--Caryl pointed off her sentences briskly on the tips of her rosy fingers--"you must try to help--well, an awful great deal, Viny, yourself, or else it can't be a moving for any single one of us."

Viny's eyes widened fearfully, but she didn't stir.

"If you will take care--mind! SPLENDID care of Aunt Sylvia every morning," said Caryl slowly and with extreme empressment--"watch and get her everything she wants, not wait for her to ask for anything, then I can go off down street and make lots and lots of money, Viny. Think of that, lots and lots! Then we can move, and Aunt Sylvia will maybe get well."

Caryl's gray eyes were only a thought less big than those of her small black audience, who presently caught the infectious enthusiasm and emitted several l.u.s.ty crows.

"Jiminy--oh, I DIDN'T say it--I didn't--I didn't! O Jiminy, I didn't--I didn't--O Jimmy, I--"

"Stop saying it, then," exclaimed her young mistress decidedly, and enforcing her words by a vigorous shake.

"Oh, I didn't--I will--O Jiminy! yes, I will!" cried the little black delinquent, the full tide of original sin taking an unfair advantage of her excitement to engulf her. "Oh--er--oh--er--r--"

Caryl came to her rescue by giving her a new idea.

"See how splendid you can be, Viny dear," she said kindly. "You can be such a good little helper, so that part of the new home will be of your getting; for I never could have the chance to earn anything if you didn't take my place and be Aunt Sylvia's nurse."

"I know how," said Viny, perfectly overcome with the greatness thrust upon her; "it's to slip crickets under her feet to put her toes onter.

I'll slip 'em all day. An' it's to wipe her specs, an' to say yes, no, an' to--"

"To be good," finished Caryl solemnly; "that comprehends the whole business."

"To be good," repeated the small nurse yet more solemnly, "an' to compren' the whole bus'ness; I will."

"You are a ridiculous child," cried Caryl impatiently; "I don't really suppose you are fit to be trusted, but then, it's the only thing to try."

Viny, having been duly elected to office, considered her honors settled, so she was little disturbed by any opinions that might be held concerning her. Therefore she squatted and wriggled in great delight, grinning at every word that fell from her young mistress' lips.

"You see, Viny," Caryl was saying, beginning on her confidence, "I've got an order to teach the little Grant girls how to paint, and if I can run down there two hours every morning, I'm to have twenty-five dollars, and Madam Grant is going to give it to me in advance; that is, after the first quarter. Think, Viny, TWENTY-FIVE dollars! That's what we want to move with into Heart's Delight!"

This was the upstairs southwest corner of a little cottage that for a year or more had been the desideratum of the young girl's highest hopes that had to wear themselves out in empty longings, the invalid's scanty exchequer only sufficing for doctor's bills and similar twelvemonth, along with several other broken-down lodgers whose slender means compelled them to call this place "home"--this place where never a bit of suns.h.i.+ne seemed to come; where even the birds hated to stop for a song as they flew merrily over the tree-tops. And no wonder. The trees were scraggy, loppy old things hanging down in dismal sweep over the leaky roof and damp walls. They had to stay--the lodgers, but the birds and the suns.h.i.+ne tossed off the whole responsibility of life in such a gloomy old home, and flitted to gayer quarters. But now, what if Heart's Delight could really be theirs!

"Yer goin' ter tell 'em how to paint dem tings yer daub?" broke in Viny, and snapping off this delightful thought.

"You shouldn't speak so, child," said Caryl with the greatest dignity; "it's very fine work, and you couldn't possibly understand it. It's art, Viny."

"Ho, ho!" laughed the small black figure, nowise impressed and cramming her stumpy fingers up to her mouth to keep the laugh in as she saw her young mistress' displeasure. "It's an awful old dirty muss, an' I wish I could do it," she added under her breath.