Mary at the Farm and Book of Recipes Compiled during Her Visit Part 8

CHAPTER XV.

MARY AND ELIZABETH VISIT SADIE SINGMASTER.

Farmer Landis, happening to mention at the breakfast table his intention of driving over to the "Ax Handle Factory" to obtain wood ashes to use as a fertilizer, his wife remarked, "Why not take Mary with you, John? She can stop at Singmaster's with a basket of carpet rags for Sadie. I've been wanting to send them over for some time."

Turning to Mary, she said: "Poor little, crippled Sadie! On account of a fall, which injured her spine, when a small child, she has been unable to walk for years. She cuts and sews carpet rags, given her by friends and neighbors, and from their sale to a carpet weaver in a near-by town, helps her widowed mother eke out her small income."

"I'd love to go see her," said Mary. Elizabeth Schmidt also expressed her willingness to go, when asked, saying: "I am positive mother will add her contribution to the carpet rags for Sadie, I do pity her so very much."

"Yes," said Mary's Aunt, "she is poor and proud. She will not accept charity, so we persuade her to take carpet rags, as we have more than we can possibly use."

On reaching the Singmaster cottage, the girls alighted with their well-filled baskets, Mary's Uncle driving on to the "Ax Handle Factory," promising to call for the girls on his return. The sad, brown eyes of Sadie, too large for her pinched, sallow face, shone with pleasure at sight of the two young girls so near her own age, and she smiled her delight on examining the numerous bright-colored patches brought by them. Thinking the pleasure she so plainly showed might appear childish to the two girls, she explained: "I do get so dreadfully tired sewing together so many dull homely rags. I shall enjoy making b.a.l.l.s of these pretty, bright colors."

"Sadie," Mary inquired, "will you think me inquisitive should I ask what the carpet weaver pays you for the rags when you have sewed and wound them into b.a.l.l.s?"

"Certainly not," replied Sadie. "Four cents a pound is what he pays me. It takes two of these b.a.l.l.s to make a pound," and she held up a ball she had just finished winding.

"Is _that all_ you get?" exclaimed Elizabeth.

"Have you ever made rag rugs?" inquired Mary.

"No, I have never even seen one. Are they anything like braided mats?"

"Yes, they are somewhat similar to them, but I crochet mine and think them prettier. I have made several, with Aunt Sarah's a.s.sistance. I'll come over and teach you to make them one of these days, should you care to learn, and I'm positive you will find ready sale for them. In fact, I've several friends in the city who have admired the ones I have, and would like to buy rugs for the Colonial rooms they are furnis.h.i.+ng. Sadie, can you crochet?"

"Oh, yes. I can do the plain st.i.tch very well."

"That is all that will be necessary. You will become very much interested in inventing new designs, it is very fascinating work, and it will be more remunerative than sewing carpet rags. Aunt Sarah will send you more carpet rags if you require them, and should you wish dull colors of blue or pink, a small package of dye will transform white or light-colored rags into any desired shade, to match the furnis.h.i.+ngs of different rooms. I think the crocheted rugs much prettier than the braided ones, which are so popular in the 'Nutting'

pictures, and the same pretty shades may be used when rugs are crocheted."

When Farmer Landis came for the girls, he found them too busily engaged talking to hear his knock at the door. During the drive home Mary could think and talk of nothing but Sadie Singmaster, and the rugs she had promised to teach her to make at an early day. Elizabeth, scarcely less enthusiastic, said: "I've a lot of old things I'll give her to cut up for carpet rags."

Reaching home, Mary could scarcely wait an opportunity to tell Aunt Sarah all her plans for Sadie's betterment. When she finally did tell her Aunt, she smiled and said: "Mary, I'm not surprised. You are always planning to do a kind act for some one. You remind me of the lines, 'If I Can Live,' by Helen Hunt Jackson." And she repeated the following for Mary:

IF I CAN LIVE.

If I can live To make some pale face brighter and to give A second l.u.s.ter to some tear-dimmed eye, Or e'en impart One throb of comfort to an aching heart, Or cheer some wayworn soul in pa.s.sing by;

If I can lend A strong hand to the fallen, or defend The right against a single envious strain, My life, though bare, Perhaps, of much that seemeth dear and fair To us of earth, will not have been in vain.

The purest joy, Most near to heaven, far from earth's alloy, Is bidding cloud give way to sun and s.h.i.+ne; And 'twill be well If on that day of days the angels tell Of me, she did her best for one of Thine.

CHAPTER XVI.

OLD PARLOR MADE BEAUTIFUL (MODERNIZED).

When John Landis came into possession of "Clear Spring" Farm, where his mother had lived during her lifetime, she having inherited it from her father, the rooms of the old farm house were filled with quaint, old-fas.h.i.+oned furniture of every description. "Aunt Sarah," on coming to the farm to live, had given a personal touch and cheery, homelike look to every room in the house, with one exception, the large, gloomy, old-fas.h.i.+oned parlor, which was cold, cheerless and damp. She confessed to Mary she always felt as if John's dead-and-gone ancestors' ghostly presences inhabited the silent room. The windows were seldom opened to allow a ray of sunlight to penetrate the dusk with which the room was always enveloped, except when the regular weekly sweeping day arrived; when, after being carefully swept and dusted, it was promptly closed. A room every one avoided, Aunt Sarah was very particular about always having fresh air and sunlight in every other part of the house but his one room. The old fireplace had been boarded up many years before Aunt Sarah's advent to the farm, so it could not be used. One day Mary noticed, while dusting the room (after it had been given a thorough sweeping by Sibylla, Aunt Sarah's one maid servant), that the small, many-paned windows facing the East, at one end of the parlor, when opened, let in a flood of suns.h.i.+ne; and in the evening those at the opposite end of the long room gave one a lovely view of the setting sun--a finer picture than any painted by the hand of a master. Mary easily persuaded her Aunt to make some changes in the unlivable room. She suggested that they consult her Uncle about repapering and painting the room and surprise him with the result when finished.

Aunt Sarah, who never did things by halves, said: "Mary, I have long intended 'doing over' this room, but thought it such a great undertaking. Now, with your a.s.sistance, I shall make a sweep of these old, antiquated heirlooms of a past generation. This green carpet, with its gorgeous bouquets of roses, we shall have combined with one of brown and tan in the attic. Your Uncle shall take them with him when he drives to town and have them woven into pretty, serviceable rugs for the floor."

"And, oh! Aunt Sarah," cried Mary, "do let's have an open fireplace.

It makes a room so cheery and 'comfy' when the weather gets colder, on long winter evenings, to have a fire in the grate. I saw some lovely, old bra.s.s andirons and fender in the attic, and some bra.s.s candlesticks there also, which will do nicely for the mantel shelf over the fireplace. I'll s.h.i.+ne 'em up, and instead of this hideously-ugly old wall paper with gay-colored scrawley figures, Aunt Sarah, suppose we get an inexpensive, plain, tan felt paper for drop ceiling and separate it from the paper on the side wall, which should be a warm, yellow-brown, with a narrow chestnut wood molding. Then this dull, dark, gray-blue painted woodwork; could any one imagine anything more hideously ugly? It gives me the 'blues' simply to look at it. Could we not have it painted to imitate chestnut wood? And don't you think we might paint the floor around the edges of the rug to imitate the woodwork? Just think of those centre panels of the door painted a contrasting shade of pale pink. The painter who did this work certainly was an artist. A friend of mine in the city, wis.h.i.+ng to use rugs instead of carpets on her floors, and not caring to go to the expense of laying hardwood floors, gave the old floors a couple of coats of light lemon, or straw-colored paint, then stained and grained them a perfect imitation of chestnut, at small expense. The floors were greatly admired when finished, and having been allowed to dry thoroughly after being varnished, proved quite durable. I will write to my friend at once and ask her exactly how her floors were treated."

"Now, Mary, about this old-style furniture. The old grandfather clock standing in the corner, at the upper end of the room, I should like to have remain. It is one hundred and fifty years old and belonged to my folks, and, although old-fas.h.i.+oned, is highly valued by me."

"Of course," said Mary, "we'll certainly leave that in the room."

"Also," said Aunt Sarah, "allow the old cottage organ and large, old-fas.h.i.+oned bookcase belonging to your Uncle to remain. He has frequently spoken of moving his bookcase into the next room, when he was obliged to come in here for books, of which he has quite a valuable collection."

[Ill.u.s.tration:

A-24 Seed Wreath A-25 Wax Fruit A-26 Old Parlor Mantel A-27 Old Clock A-28 Boquet of Hair Flowers ]

"Oh," said Mary, "no need of that. We will move Uncle John in here, near the bookcase, when we get our room fixed up. Aunt Sarah, we will leave that old-fas.h.i.+oned table, also, with one leaf up against the wall, and this quaint, little, rush-bottomed rocker, which I just dote on."

"Why, dear," exclaimed Aunt Sarah, "there are several chairs to match it in the attic, which you may have when you start housekeeping for your very own. And," laughingly, said her Aunt, "there is another old, oval, marble-topped table in the attic, containing a large gla.s.s case covering a basket of wax fruit, which you may have."

"No, Aunt Sarah," said Mary, "I don't believe I want the fruit, but I will accept your offer of the table. Well, Aunt Sarah, I know you won't have this old, black what-not standing in the corner of the room. I do believe it is made of spools, strung on wire, as supports for the shelves; then all painted black, imitation of ebony, I suppose. It must have been made in the Black Age, at the same time the old corner cupboard was painted, as Uncle John told me he sc.r.a.ped off three different layers of paint before doing it over, and one was black. It was originally made of cherry. It certainly looks fine now, with those new bra.s.s hinges and pretty, old-fas.h.i.+oned gla.s.s k.n.o.bs."

"Yes, Mary," replied her Aunt, "and there is an old corner cupboard in the attic which belonged to my father, that you may have, and, with a very little labor and expense, Ralph can make it look as well as mine.

It has only one door and mine possesses two."

"Aunt Sarah," exclaimed Mary, "you are a dear! How will I ever repay you for all your kindness to me?"

"By pa.s.sing it on to some one else when you find some one needing help," said Aunt Sarah.

"Such a collection of odd things, Aunt Sarah, as are on this what-not I never saw. Old ambrotypes and daguerreotypes of gone and forgotten members of the 'freinshoft,' as you sometimes say. I don't believe you know any of them."

"Yes, the red plush frame on the mantel shelf contains a picture of John's Uncle, a fine-looking man, but he possessed 'Wanderl.u.s.t' and has lived in California for many years.

"Oh, you mean the picture on the mantel standing near those twin gilded china vases, gay with red and blue paint?"

"Yes; and that small china and gilt stand with little bowl and pitcher was given me when a small child."

"Suppose I bring a basket and we will fill it with articles from the mantel and what-not," said Mary, "and carry them all to the attic, until you have a rummage sale some day. We'll burn these 'everlasting'

and 'straw' flowers, and pampas gra.s.s, and this large apple stuck full of cloves. Here is a small china dog and a little china basket with a plaited china handle decorated with gilt, and tiny, pink-tinted china roses. And these large, gla.s.s marbles containing little silver eagles inside; also this small, spun-gla.s.s s.h.i.+p and blue-and-pink-striped gla.s.s pipe. Aunt Sarah, some of your ancestors must have attended a gla.s.s blowers' exhibition in years past."

"This branch of white coral, these large snail sh.e.l.ls (when a child I remember holding them to my ear to hear a noise resembling the roar of the ocean), and this small basket, fas.h.i.+oned of twigs and tendrils of grape vine, then dipped in red sealing wax, certainly is a good imitation of coral, and this plate, containing a miniature s.h.i.+p composed of green postage stamps, we will place in your corner cupboard."

"And, Aunt Sarah, I suppose this deep, gla.s.s-covered picture frame containing a bouquet of hair flowers, most wonderfully and fearfully made, was considered a work of art in days past and gone, as was also the crescent in a frame on the opposite side of the room, composed of flowers made of various seeds of grain and garden vegetables. Those daisies, made of cuc.u.mber seeds with grains of red corn for centres, and those made of tiny grains of popcorn with a watermelon seed in centre, are cute. The latter look like breastpins with a circle of pearls around the edge. And this gla.s.s case on the table, containing a white cross, covered with wax tube roses, ivy leaves and fuchsias drooping from the arms of the cross, sparkling with diamond dust! The band of green chenille around its base matches the mat underneath, composed of green zephyr of different shades, knitted, then raveled to imitate moss, I suppose; and, no doubt, this marble-topped table has stood here for fifty years, in this same spot, for the express purpose of holding this beautiful (?) work of art."

"The hair flowers and the seed wreath were made by John's sister,"

replied Aunt Sarah.