She tossed her head as she did sing. And the joy-light danced in her eyes.
I have thinks it must be wonderful happiness to be married. I have seen the same joy-light in the eyes of her tall young husband. It is there much when he is come home at eventide from work in the woods. Then she does have many kind words and kisses for him. He has adoors for her, and too he has a pumpadoor that he smooths back with vaseline. Why to-day I did see he had used most all of the vaseline out of that jar that sets on their kitchen shelf. That vaseline jar has an interest look. I have been watching it. And every day when I do stand on tiptoe and take peeks at it, there is not so much vaseline in it as there was in it the day before. I have thinks it does take a goodly amount to keep his pumpadoor smooth.
While I was bringing home the tidy the mamma did leave at the house of Elsie, I met a chapine baby. He did sail away. Érable leaves did go in little hops, and so went I. Soon I saw a gray board. I did turn it over. Under that old gray board were five little silk bags. They were white and they did feel lumps. I know baby spiders will come out of them when comes spring days, because last year I found bags like these, and this year in the spring baby spiders walked out. They were very fidgety youngsters.
Just when I did most have decides to take them to the nursery, I heard the mamma calling. I put the board back again in the way it was before I came that way. Then I did run a quick run to the house. And the mamma did send me in a hurry to the wood-shed. It was for two loads of wood she wanted. I did bring in the first load in a hurry. The second load I brought not so. I did pick up all the sticks my arms could hold. While I was picking them up, I looked long looks at them. I went not to the kitchen with them in a quick way. I was meditating. I did have thinks about the tree they all were before they got chopped up. I did wonder how I would feel if I was a very little piece of wood that got chopped out of a very big tree. I did think that it would have hurt my feelings. I felt of the feelings of the wood. They did have a very sad feel.
Just when I was getting that topmost stick a bit wet with sympathy tears—then the mamma did come up behind me with a switch. She said while she did switch, “Stop your meditations.” And while she did switch, I did drop the wood. I felt the feels the sticks of wood felt when they hit the floor. Then I did pick them up with care and I put them all in the wood-box back of the cook-stove. I put them there because the mamma said I must put them there. But all the time I was churning I did hum a little song. It was a good-bye song to the sticks in the wood-box back of the kitchen stove.
When the churning was done and the butter was come, the mamma did lift all the little lumps of butter out of the churn. Then she did pat them together in a big lump, and this she put away in the butter-box in the wood-shed. When she went to lay herself down to rest on the bed, she did call me to rub her head. I like to rub the mamma’s head, for it does help the worry lines to go away. Often I rub her head, for it is often she does have longings to have it so. And I do think it is very nice to help people have what they do have longings for.
By-and-by, when the mamma did have sleeps and after I did print, I did go to listen to the voices. The wind was calling. His calling was to little wood-folk and me. He did call more again: “Come, petite Françoise, come go explores.” He was in a rush. I raced. Brave Horatius ran. We played tag with the wind. The wind does have many things to tell. He does toss back one’s curls so he can whisper things in one’s ears. To-day he did twice push back my curls three times, that I might better hear what he did have to say. He whispered little whispers about the cradles of moths to be that hang a-swinging on the bushes in the woods. I went around to see about it. I looked looks on many bushes. Some brown leaves were swinging from some bushes. No cradles I found.
By-and-by I came to a log. It was a nice little log. It was as long as three pigs as long as Peter Paul Rubens. I climbed upon it. I so did to look more looks about. The wind did blow in a real quick way. He made music all around. I danced on the log. It is so much a big amount of joy to dance on a log when the wind does play the harps in the forest. Then do I dance on tiptoe. I wave greetings to the plant-bush folks that do dance all about. To-day a grand pine tree did wave its arms to me. And the bush branches patted my cheek in a friendly way. The wind again did blow back my curls. They clasp the fingers of the bush people most near. I did turn around to untangle them. It is most difficult to dance on tiptoe on a log when one’s curls are in a tangle with the branches of a friendly bush that grows near unto the log and does make bows to one while the wind doth blow.
When I did turn to untangle my curls, I saw a silken cradle in a hazel branch. I have thinks that the wind did just tangle my curls so I would have seeing of that cradle. It was cream, with a hazel leaf half-way round it. I put it to my ear and I did listen. It had a little voice. It was not a tone voice. It was a heart voice. While I did listen, I did feel its feels. It has lovely ones. And I did hurry away in the way that does lead to the house of the girl that has no seeing. I went that way so she too might know its feels and hear its heart voice. She does so like to feel things. She has seeing by feels. Often I do carry things to her when I find them and she knows some of my friends. Peter Paul Rubens has gone with me to visit her. So has gone Felix Mendelssohn and Nannerl Mozart—the two mices with voices that squeak mouse-songs in the night. And Plato and Pliny, the two bats, and others go too. And their goings and what she has thinks about them I have printed here in my prints. And it is often I go the way that does lead to her house, for the girl who has no seeing—she and I—we are friends.
One day I told her about the trees talking. Then she did want to know about the voices, and now I do help her to hear them. And too I tell her about comparer, that Angel Father did teach me to play, and I show her the way. She cannot look long looks at things, to see how they look not looks alike, because she has no seeing. So she is learning to play comparer by feels.
To-day, after she did feel the feels of the cream cradle and we did play comparer, then she asked me what the trees were saying. And I led her out across her yard and away to the woods, and Brave Horatius did follow after. I led her in the way that does lead to that grand fir tree, Good King Louis VI. And when we were come unto him, I did touch his finger-tips to her cheeks. She liked that. Then we did stand near unto him, and I told her of the trees in the night, of the things they tell to the shadows that wander through the woods. She said she did n’t think she would like to be a shadow.
And just then she stubbed her toe. She did ask me what that was there near unto her foot. I told her it was a ville I did build there—the ville of St. Denis. She wanted to know why I builded it there. I told her there was needs of it, being near unto Good King Louis VI, for he so loved it; so I builded it there where his branches shelter it and his kindness looks kind looks upon it. And I did tell her about his being on his way to St. Denis when he died. While I builded up again the corner of the abbey, I did give explanations about how lovely it is to be a gray shadow walking along and touching the faces of people. Shadows do have such velvety fingers.
After that we did go on. We went on on to where dwell Alan of Bretagne and Étienne of Blois and Godefroi of Bouillon and Raymond of Toulouse. To each I led the girl who has no seeing, and she was glad to know them all. They are grand trees. As we went our way, we did listen unto the voices. And I took all the hairpins that was in her hair out of it. I so did so the wind could blow it back and whisper things into her ears. The wind does have so much to tell of far lands and of little folks that dwell near unto us in the fields and in the woods.
To-day near eventime I did lead the girl who has no seeing a little way away into the forest, where it was darkness, and shadows were. I led her toward a shadow that was coming our way. It did touch her cheeks with its velvety fingers. And now she too does have likings for shadows. And her fear that was is gone. And after that we turned about to the way that does lead out of the forest. And so we went and I led her again home. We did hurry a bit. We so did because it was most time for her folks to be there. Often she does say I must n’t be thereabout when her folks are thereabout. I don’t be.
At the steps of the door that does go into her house she did tell me good-bye. When she so did, she kissed me on each cheek like she always does. Then I did turn my face to the way that leads to the house we live in. Cloud-ships were sailing over the hills. They were in a hurry. The wind was in a hurry. Brown leaves, little ones and big ones, were hurrying along. I thought I had better get a hurry on me. I did.
When I was come near unto the barn, I did go in to get Plato and Pliny. I put them in my apron pockets. The barn was rather dark. There were friendly shadows in its corners. When I came out I thought of Peter Paul Rubens. I did have thinks cathedral service would be good for his soul. I went again into the barn to get his little bell that he does always wear around his neck to service, and I did put it on. There was a time when there was no little bell for Peter Paul Rubens to wear to service. That was in the days before one day when I did say to the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice, “I do have needs of a little bell for Peter Paul Rubens to wear to church.” I got it. And Peter Paul Rubens always knows he is going to the cathedral when I put that little bell around his neck. It does make lovely silver tinkles as he goes walking down the aisle to the altar.
To-night so we did go, and too with us was Elizabeth Barrett Browning. When we were come near unto the hospital, I went aside for Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. In the cathedral the wind and the trees sang a vesper song. And I prayed for quite a time long little prayers and long prayers for the goodness of us all. Peter Paul Rubens did grunt Amen at in-between times.
Now I hear the mamma say, “I wonder where Opal is.” She has forgets. I’m still under the bed where she did put me quite a time ago. And all this nice long time light is come to here from the lamp on the kitchen table—light enough so I can print prints. I am happy. I think I better crawl out now and go into the bed for sleeps.
Near eventime to-day I did go out the house when the works were done. I went out the front door and a little way down the path. I made a stop to watch the clouds. They first did come over the hills in a slow way. Then they did sail on and on. They were like ships. I did have wonders what thoughts they were carrying from the hills to somewhere. While I did watch, Brave Horatius did come and stand by my side. He looked up at me. In his eyes were askings. I made explainings. I told him, “Le ciel est plein de nuages, qui ont l’air de navires.”
While I did talk with him, the mamma did call. I went in. Brave Horatius followed after. She made him go out the other door. I went too. I went to get the potatoes the mamma wanted for supper. I got them out of a sack in the wood-shed. When she did make prepares to peel the potatoes, the mamma reached away back in the cook-table drawer for the paring knife. When she did reach so far back, she did feel the track of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Then she pulled it out real quick. She threw it out the window. When I went to pick it up, it was broken into eleven pieces. I did gather up all the pieces. They got a little bit wet from tears that trickled down my nose. When I did get the pieces together, I did put them in the back part of the machine drawer.
While I so did, I heard a grunt by the bedroom window. I climbed out. There was Peter Paul Rubens, and near unto him was Brave Horatius. To each I gave four pats on the nose. They have likes for pats on the nose. Then I went adown the path. They walked beside me. I saw the cloud-ships sailing on. I made a stop to tell Peter Paul Rubens what I did tell Brave Horatius. I did n’t get it all told. When I did say, “Le ciel est plein de nuages,” Peter Paul Rubens did grunt a grunt to go on. That was his own dear way of telling me he already did have knowings those clouds looked like ships. I gave him a pat and one to Brave Horatius too.
I went on. They walked beside me. I went on a little way. Then I did go aside from the path. I so went to the altar of Saint Louis. Three logs and four stumps and three trees it is distant from the path. And I took there with me all the little plants with green leaves—the ones I did dig up yesterday. I brought them to plant them in a crown there on his altar, for this day is the day of his crowning in 1226. While I did plant them, the wind did sing a memory song. And the trees were talking. I have thinks they were saying of the goodness of Saint Louis. Peter Paul Rubens, he did have understanding of what they were saying. He did grunt Amen at in-between times.
To-day in the morning, when the mamma was in the other room, I did take down from its hook the papa’s big coat. I did put it onto me and it did trail away out behind. I like to wear the papa’s big coat. Jenny Strong, who comes to visit us, says the reason I like to wear the papa’s big coat is because it makes me more grown-up. She’s wrong. The reason I like to wear the papa’s big coat is because it has pockets in it—big ones—nice ones to put toads and mice and caterpillars and beetles in. That’s why I like to wear the papa’s coat. Why, when I go walking in the papa’s big coat, nearly the whole nursery can go along. This morning, just as I was making a start out the door to the nursery, the mamma came into the kitchen. She did hurry to the door and I did hurry out. But she caught me by the end of the coat. She did get that coat off of me in a quick way. She hung it back on its nail. When it was hung on its nail in the proper way, she gave to me a shoulder-shake. And I did go to feed the chickens.
After I did feed the chickens all, and have some conversations with them, I went in to get the lard-pail that does have my school lunch in it. While I was putting my jacket on, the mamma did tie a new piece of asfiditee around my neck to keep me from having disease. It was a big piece of asfiditee. It did n’t stay a big piece very long. I divided it with my animal friends. Now each one of us has a bit of asfiditee tied around our necks, so we will not catch sickness. I do so like to share things. I could not find Brave Horatius to give him his share. I did have it already to tie around his dear neck, but he did not answer when I did call. I called in the woods and I called in the field. When he did not come, I went a little way back in the woods to a root. I hid his piece of asfiditee there. To-morrow morning I will tie it around his neck.
Near the root was a little wren. I made a stop to watch him. He was in a hurry. I thought he would tip over. I went in a hurry to help him. Before I was come to the root he was gone. And I saw his short tail no more.
When I got to school, teacher was standing there in the door. She was looking far-off looks in the way that does lead to the river. I thought maybe she was having dream-thoughts. I was just going to walk past her, when she turned me about for inspection. She felt the outside of my left apron pocket, but I did n’t bring my pet toad again to school this morning. I am not going to risk his life again. Next time I am going to bring him to school in a pocket in my underskirt.
Most all day in school to-day I did study from the books Angel Mother and Angel Father did make for me. I did screwtineyes the spell of words. When school was let out, I went in the way that does lead to a grove where many chêne trees do dwell. I so went to get brown leaves. After I did have a goodly number of leaves, I did face about in the way that does lead to the willow creek.
When I was come to the log that goes across the creek I went halfway across. I went not all way across because this is the going-away-day of Henry I in 1135, and I did pause to scatter leaves upon the waters. I let them fall one by one. And they were sixty-seven, for his years were sixty-seven.
Then I went to bugle in the canyon. I did go by the pig-pen. I went that way to get Peter Paul Rubens. He does so like to go for walks in that canyon of the far woods when I go to bugle there. And I do so like to have him go. I have thinks the trees and the ferns and the singing brook all have gladness when Peter Paul Rubens comes a while to walk in the woods. He does carry so much joy with him everywhere he goes.
To-day near eventime we did walk our way back unto near the cathedral. We made a stop there for a short prayer service. First I said Our Father, and then I said two short prayers; one was a thank prayer, and one was a glad prayer. As always, Peter Paul Rubens did grunt Amen at in-between times. Then he did go his way to the pig-pen to get his supper. And I went aside to see if there was any sheeps on the hillside. I saw not one. And so I come again to the field. Elizabeth Barrett Browning was at the pasture-bars. There was lonesome feels in her mooings. I went and put my arm around her neck. It is such a comfort to have a friend near when lonesome feels do come.
I have wonders where is Brave Horatius. He comes not at my calling. Two days he is now gone. For him I go on searches. I go the three roads that go the three ways from where they have meeting in front of the ranch house. On and on I go. To the Orne and Rille I go. I go adown their ways. I call and call. Into the woods beyond the rivière—into the forêt de Saint-Germain-en-Laye I go. I listen. The sounds that were in time of summer are not now. Brave Horatius is not there. I call and call. Then I come back again. I go to the house of the girl who has no seeing. I go on. I go across the fields of Auvergne and Picardie. But I have no seeing of my Brave Horatius.
I come back again. The man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice—he does keep watch by the mill. But these two days he has had no seeing of Brave Horatius. I have wonders where can he be. Every time I see the chore boy he does sing, “There was a little dog and his name was Rover, and when he died, he died all over—and—when—he—died—he—died—all—over.” The last part he does wail in a most long way. I have not listenings to what that chore boys says. I go on. I pray on. I look and I look for Brave Horatius. I go four straight ways and I come back four different ways. When I am come I go back and forth by Jardin des Tuileries and across Pont Royal and adown the singing creek where the willows grow. Lonesome feels are everywhere. I call and I do call. And I do go on and on to where Rhone flows around Camargue.
I turn about and I go in the way that does go to the forêt de Montmorency. I go to the forêt de Montmorency. No tree here is a chataignier. But anyway I do call it forêt de Montmorency, and often it is I come here; here I come with Brave Horatius. I went in through and out through, but no answerings did come when I did call. I wonder where he is. In the morning of to-day, when I did go that way, I did meet with the father of Lola. And I did ask if he had seen my Brave Horatius. He did have no seeing of him, and he did ask where all I was going on searches. I did tell him to Orne and Yonne and Rille and to Camargue and Picardie and Auvergne and to the forêt de Montmorency. And when I did so tell him, he did laugh. Most all the folks do laugh at the names I do call places hereabout. They most all do laugh ’cepting Sadie McKibben. She smiles and smoothes out my curls and says, “Name ’em what ye are a mind to, dearie.” Sadie McKibben has an understanding soul. She keeps watch out of her window for seeings of Brave Horatius, and she has promised me she will ask everybody that she does see go by her house if they have had seeings of Brave Horatius.
All my friends do feel lonesome feels for Brave Horatius. Lars Porsena of Clusium hardly has knowing what to do. And Peter Paul Rubens did have goings with me three times on searches. And when I did have stops to pray, he did grunt Amen. And he would like to have goings with me on the afternoon of to-day. But the pig-pen fence—it was fixed most tight; and I could n’t unfix it with the hammer, so he might have goings with me. I did start on. He did grunt grunts to go. I did feel more sad feels. I do so like to have him go with me on explores and searches. To-day I did go on, and then I did come back to give him more good-bye pats on the nose until I was come again. So I did four times. I did tell him when Brave Horatius was found we would soon come to his pen.
Then I went on. On I went not far, for the mamma did call me to come tend the baby. And I came again to the house we live in. When sleeps was upon the baby, I lay me down to sleep, for tired feels was upon me. Now I feel not so. I have been making prints. The mamma is gone with the baby to the house of Elsie. I go now again to seek for my Brave Horatius.
A little way I went. A long way I went. When I was come part way back again, I climbed upon the old gray fence made of rails. I walked adown it to the gate-post and there I sat. I sat there until I saw the shepherd bringing down the sheep from the blue hills. When he was come in sight, I went up the road to meet him and all the sheeps. And when I was come near unto them, I did have seeing there by the shepherd’s side did abide my Brave Horatius. I was happy. I was full of glad feels. Brave Horatius showed his glad feels in his tail—and he did look fond looks at the flock of sheep. I so did, too. And in the flock there was Bede of Jarrow and Alfric of Canterbury and Albéric de Briançon and Felix of Croyland. And there was Cynewulf and Alcuin and Orderic and Gwian and Elidor. And in the midst of the flock there was Guy de Cavaillon and Raoul de Houdenc and Edwin of Diera and Adamnan of Iona. I did give to each and every one a word of greeting as I did walk among the flock. And there were others that I had not yet given names to. And last of them all—last of all the flock was Dallan Forgaill.
And when we were come a little way, the shepherd did ask me again what were the names I did call his sheep, and I told him all over again. And he did say them after me. But the ways he did say them were not just the ways I say them—some of them. And he did ask me where I did have gettings of those names. And I did tell him I did have gettings of those names from my two books that Angel Mother and Angel Father did write in.
[Photograph: AT THE PASTURE-BARS]
We went on. Pretty soon I did tell him as how it was while he was gone away to the blue hills I did choose for him another name. I told him how sometimes I did call him by that other name. He did have wantings to know what the other name was. I did tell him this new name I have for him is Aidan of Iona come from Lindisfarne. He liked it. I told him I did too. We went on. We did have talks. When we were come near unto the lane I did say, “Good-bye, Aidan of Iona come from Lindisfarne. I am glad you and the flock are come.” He gave my curls a smooth back and he said, “Good-bye, little one.”
Then Brave Horatius and I went in a hurry in the way that does go to the pig-pen. When we were gone part ways I looked a look back, and in the road there I saw Aidan of Iona come from Lindisfarne still watching us. Then we went on. And we were full of gladness when we did reach the pig-pen, for Brave Horatius and Peter Paul Rubens and I—we are friends. I did say a long thank prayer for that we were together again. And Peter Paul Rubens did grunt Amen.
I am feeling all queer inside. Yesterday was butchering day. Among the hogs they butchered was Peter Paul Rubens. The mamma let me go off to the woods all day, after my morning’s work was done. Brave Horatius and Lars Porsena of Clusium went with me—a part of the time he perched on my shoulder, and then he would ride on the back of Brave Horatius. Felix Mendelssohn rode in my apron pocket and Elizabeth Barrett Browning followed after.
We had not gone far when we heard an awful squeal—so different from the way pigs squeal when they want their supper. I felt cold all over. Then I did have knowings why the mamma had let me start away to the woods without scolding. And I ran a quick run to save my dear Peter Paul Rubens; but already he was dying—and he died with his head in my lap. I sat there feeling dead, too, until my knees were all wet with blood from the throat of my dear Peter Paul Rubens. After I changed my clothes and put the bloody ones in the rain-barrel, I did go to the woods to look for the soul of Peter Paul Rubens. I did n’t find it, but I think when comes the spring I will find it among the flowers—probably in the blossom of a faon lily or in the top of a fir tree. To-day, when Brave Horatius and I went through the woods, we did feel its presence near. When I was come back from the woods, they made me grind sausage, and every time I did turn the handle I could hear that little pain squeal Peter Paul Rubens always gave when he did want me to come where he was at once.
AT THE PASTURE-BARS [Return to text]
This day, when I was come home from school, I did have much wood to carry in, for cold days are come. I did make goes to the wood-shed to get the wood. Going to the wood-shed I passed that new flour-sack hanging on the clothes-line. It was flapping in the wind. By and by that flour-sack is going to evolute into an underskirt for me to wear under my dress when I go to school. I got my arms full of wood—as much as they could hold. Then I came into the house to put the wood into the box behind the stove.
The mamma was standing by the window. She looked worry looks at that new flour-sack hanging on the clothes-line there. She said she wished she knew a quicker way to get that miller’s brand out of the flour-sack. She put on her fascinator and went a-visiting. She told me to watch the baby that was sleeping on the bed. While I was carrying in more sticks of wood, I tried to think of a quicker way to get that miller’s brand out of that flour-sack a-flapping there in the window.
When enough wood was in and two more loads besides, I did sit on the wood-box. After I did sit still a most long time, thinks did come of a way. I got the scissors out. I got them out of the mamma’s work-basket. The time it did take to cut the miller’s brand out of the flour-sack, it was only a little time. And when it was fixed, I did fold it in nice folds with the nice crooks sticking out. The scissors did make those crooks in a nice way. Scissors are useful. I do find much use for them. But the mamma likes not the uses I find for the scissors. She does say I am a new sance. I guess a new sance is something some grown-up people don’t like to have around at all.
I have wonders about things. I have sore feels in my heart and sore feels on the back part of me. I so want to be helps to the mamma. But it’s very hard. Why, to-day when I did run to meet her, I did say, “It’s out.—It’s out.—I’ve got it out.” And she looked no glad looks. She did only look looks about for a hazel bush. First one she saw, she did take two limbs of it. All the way to the door she made tingles on me with them. I do not think she does have knowing how they feel—such queer sore feels. I feel she would not like their feels.
When we were come to the door, she did tell me to stay outside. She said I could n’t come into her house. But I did have knowing where I could go. I went to talk with Good King Edward I and lovely Eleanor of Castile. I did climb onto the lane fence and into the arms of lovely Queen Eleanor. I do so like to be in her arms when things do trouble me. She has understandings. From her arms I did go to hunt for the soul of Peter Paul Rubens. Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil rode in my left apron pocket and Nannerl Mozart rode in my right apron pocket. She is a most shy mouse and does keep her nose hid. As we did go along, I did gather gray leaves. Forty-two gray leaves I did so gather.
Then we went on. We went on to the near woods. I had not findings to-day for the soul of my dear Peter Paul Rubens, but I did tell the wind that was walking in the woods to tell Peter Paul Rubens I was come a-seeking for his soul. Then I did turn my face to the way that does lead to the cathedral. On the way I met with Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Brave Horatius and Isaiah. Together we did go to the cathedral. We went unto the little tree that I have planted there for rememberings of good John Milton, for this day is the day of his borning in 1608. We did have prayers. It was so lonesome—Peter Paul Rubens not being there to grunt Amen at in-between times. Brave Horatius came near unto me when prayers were most done. He did put his nose against my hand for a pat. I gave him two. One was for him and one was for Peter Paul Rubens that was.
Then we all did go in the way that does lead to the singing creek where the willows grow. When we were come, all that were with me did stand very close by. They so did stand while I did drop the gray leaves upon the water. All the forty-two leaves I did gather I did drop upon the water, for this is the day of the going-away of Antoine Van Dyck in 1641. And his years they were forty-two. When the leaves were all upon the water I did say a little prayer, and we came home. It was most dark-time and the lamp on the kitchen table did shine its light out the window. And it came down the path to meet us.
There were pictures on the window-panes when I woke up this morning. By-and-by the fire in the stove made the room warm, and the pictures on the window-panes went away. I was sorry when they went away. I so did like to look looks at them.
When I did have my breakfast, the mamma did send me to take a bucket of something with eggs on top it to the ranch-house. The outdoors did have coldness. It did make my fingers to have queer feels. And my nose felt like I did n’t have any. Brave Horatius followed after me as I did go along. As I did go along, I did see ice on the mud-puddles. Every now and then I did stop to break the ice on the mud-puddles. I broke the ice to see what was in the water. Under the ice that was over the cow-tracks there was no water—only dirt, cold and stiff, with little crystals on it.
When I was come to the ranch-house, the grandma did come to the door, and she took the bucket of something with eggs on top it, that the mamma did send to her. I started on to school. I did go as far as the pump. I made a stop there. I was going to give its handle some lift-ups and some pull-downs, so water would come out. I have likes to see water come out of that pump. But to-day water won’t come out of the pump. The pump-handle won’t go up and down. The grandpa said it froze in the night. I think it has got the croup. I expect it needs some coal-oil. I have thinks I must tend to that pump to-night.
All day here at school I now do study. For little bits of times I do study my school-book. But most of the time I do study the books Angel Father and Angel Mother did write in. I do study these most every day at school. I do study the spell of the words. And after times and before times I do sing the spelling of the words to the gentle Jersey cow while I do ride her to pasture. And I sit in the manger at evening-time and sing the spellings of these words to William Shakespeare when he is come home from work in the woods. I have thinks most of my animal friends do have knowings of the spellings of these words. It so often is I do sing the spellings of these words to them.
When I did come home from school to-night, I did make a stop at that pump to see how much coal-oil it did need for its croup. But it had no needs to be tended. The croup that it did have on this morning was all gone. When I did give its handle some lift-ups and some push-downs, water did come out. I watched it. It stopped coming out when I did stop giving it lift-ups and push-downs. I went on. I saw the black cat by the barn. On cold nights I have given that cat long rubs on its back, and sparks have come. I did have thinks about sparky things as I did come on home. Now I have knowings of these. Cats are sparky—black ones on a cold night. Stoves are sparky on cold days. Rocks are sparky—flint ones when you give them a thump. The chore boy says some people are sparky. He does n’t know what he is talking about.
When I was come into the house we live in, I gave the baby a gentle thump. It squawked, but there were no sparks. Then the mamma came in the back door. She had not knows why it squawked, but she did tell me to mind it. I so did. The mamma went out again to the house of Elsie. When she was gone, I did sing to the baby a new song I did make up to-day. Most every day I do make up a song. I sing them not when the mamma is in the house, for she does give me most hard spankings when I do start to sing them. To-day I did teeter the baby on the bed as she said. And more I did. I did sing to her the new song. I did sing to her,—
Then she did kick many kicks in the air. I did tickle her toes. She likes to have her toes tickled. She has likes for it. This baby has likes for many things. She has likes to sit up on the bed. The mamma has me to prop it up so it won’t fall over. And this baby—it has likes to make bubbles with its mouth and to stick its foot in its mouth. It does like to rattle all the rattles the grandma and Jenny Strong and Elsie bring to it. It does have such likes to be rocked. And most of the times when it is awake, it does want to be singed to and carried about. It is a baby that has satisfaction looks on its face for a little time when it gets what it wants. It only has those satisfaction looks a little time. Soon it does have some more wants, and it wants to have what it wants. The mamma does have me to rock it and rock it and teeter it on the bed and walk the floor with it. Sometimes it does get most heavy. Then I do let my knees bend under and I do sit on the floor and rock it back and forth. The mamma, she does have much likes for it to have what it wants.
I am joy all over. I have found in the near woods a plant that has berries like the berries symphorine has. And its leaves are like the leaves symphorine has. I have had seeings of it before, and every time I do meet with this new old plant, I do say, “I have happy feels to see you, Symphorine.” And when the wind comes walking in the near woods, the little leaves of symphorine do whisper little whispers. I have thinks they are telling me they were come here before I was come here. I make a stop to have more listens. They do whisper, “See, petite Françoise, we were a long time come.” I can see they were, too, because their toes have grown quite a ways down in the ground.
To-day, as I did walk a walk to where they grow, I did tell them about the day that it is. I told them all about this being the borning day of Jeanne d’Albret, mère de Henri IV, in 1528. I told the year-numbers on my fingers. I had thinks they might have remembers better if I so told them on my fingers. I do have remembers of numbers better when I do tell them on my fingers. Brave Horatius did stand by and listen while I so told them. We went on.
I tied bits of bread on the tips of the branches of the trees. Too, I tied on popcorn kernels. They looked like snow-flowers blooming there on fir trees. I looked looks back at them. I have knows the birds will be glad for them. Often I do bring them here for them. When I do have hungry feels I feel the hungry feels the birds must be having. So I do have comes to tie things on the trees for them. Some have likes for different things. Little gray one of the black cap has likes for suet. And other folks has likes for other things.
There is a little box in the woods that I do keep things for the pheasants and grouses and squirrels and more little birds and wood-mouses and wood-rats. In fall-time days Peter Paul Rubens did come here with me when I did bring seeds and nuts to this box for days of hiver. When we were come to the box, I did have more thinks of him. I think the soul of Peter Paul Rubens is not afar. I think it is in the forest. I go looking for it. I climb up in the trees. I call and call. And then when I find it not, I do print a message on a leaf, and I tie it onto the highest limb I can reach. And I leave it there with a little prayer for Peter Paul Rubens. I do miss him so.
To-day, after I so did leave a message on a leaf away up in a tree for him, I did have going in along the lane and out across the field and down the road beyond the meeting of the roads. There was grayness everywhere—gray clouds in the sky and gray shadows above and in the canyon. And all the voices that did speak—they were gray tones. “Petite Françoise, c’est jour gris.” And all the little lichens I did see along the way did seem a very part of all the grayness. And Felix Mendelssohn in my apron pocket—he was a part of the grayness, too. And as I did go adown the road, I did meet with a gray horse—and his grayness was like the grayness of William Shakespeare. Then I did turn about. I did turn my face to the near woods where is William Shakespeare.
When Rob Ryder is n’t looking, I give to William Shakespeare pieces of apple and I pull grass for him. He so likes a nice bit to eat after he does pull a long pull on the logs. And while I do feed him bits of apple and bits of grass, I do tell him poems. William Shakespeare has likes for poems. And sometimes I do walk along by him when he is pulling in logs and I do tell the poems to him while he pulls. And I give his head rubs when he is tired, and his back too. And on some Sundays when he is in the pasture I go there to talk with him. He comes to meet me. William Shakespeare and I—we are friends. His soul is very beautiful. The man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice says he is a dear old horse.
Elsie has a brand-new baby and all the things that go with it. There’s a pink fleur on its baby brush and a pink bow on its cradle-quilt. The angels brought the baby just last night in the night. I have been to see it a goodly number of times—most everything I did start to do, I went aside before I did get through doing it to take peeps at the darling baby. I so did when I was sent to feed the chickens, and when I went to carry in the wood, and when I went to visit Aphrodite, and when I went to take eggs to the folks that live yonder, and when I went to get some soap at the ranch-house, and when I went to take a sugar-lump to William Shakespeare, and when I went to take food to the folks in the hospital, and when I went to the ranch-house to get the milk. And in the between times I did go in the way that does lead to the house of Elsie.
The baby—it is a beautiful baby—though it does have much redness of face from coming such a long way in the cold last night. Maybe it was the coldness of the night that did cause the angels to make the mistake. They stopped at the wrong house. I’m quite sure this is the very baby I have been praying for the angels to bring to the new young folks that do live by the mill by the far woods. Dear Love, her young husband does call her. And they are so happy. But they have been married seven whole months and have n’t got a baby yet. Twice every day for a time long I have been praying prayers for the angels to bring them one real soon. And most all day to-day I did feel I better tell Elsie as how this baby is n’t her baby, before she does get too fond of it. She so likes to cuddle it now. Both morning and afternoon I did put off going to tell her about it. I did wait most until eventime. Then I could n’t keep still any longer. I felt I would just have to speak to her about it at once.
I did have knowings that Mrs. Limberger, that was staying with Elsie until the other woman was come back, would n’t let me come in the door to see the baby again because she has opinions that nineteen times is fully enough to be a-coming to see a baby on the first day of its life on earth. So I went and got a wood-box off the back porch, and I did go around to the bedroom window. I did get on top the wood-box and I made tappings on the window-pane. Elsie did have hearings. She did turn her head on the pillow. And she gave nods for me to come in. I pushed the window a push enough so I could squeeze in. Then I sidled over to the bed.
Elsie did look so happy with the baby. I did swallow a lump in my throat. She looked kind smiles at me. I did not like to bring disturbs to her calm. I just stood there making pleats in my blue calico apron. I did have thinks of Dear Love and the house without a baby by the mill by the far woods. Then I felt I could n’t wait any longer. I just said, “I know you are going to have a disappoint, Elsie, but I have got to tell you—this baby is n’t yours. It’s a mistake. It really belongs to Dear Love in that most new, most little house by the mill by the far woods. It’s the one I’ve been praying the Angels to bring to her.”
Just when I was all out of breath from telling her, there did come the heavy step of Mrs. Limberger’s approaches. Elsie did say in a gentle way, “Come to me early in the morning and we will talk the matter over.” Then I did go out the window.
From the house of Elsie I did go to talk with Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael. He does so understand. All troubles that do trouble me, I do talk them over with him. While I was telling him all about how the angels did make a mistake and did bring Dear Love’s baby to the house of Elsie, I did hear a little voice. It was a baby voice. It did come from the barn. I went in to see. It was n’t in the haystack. It seemed to come from a way below. I slid down to the manger of the gentle Jersey cow. I thought she was in the pasture, but there she was in the barn. And with her was a dear new baby calf. When I did ask the ranch folks when it was brought, they did say it was brought in the night last night. I have thinks the same angel that did bring the new baby to the house of Elsie did bring also in her other arm that baby calf to the gentle Jersey cow. To-night I will pick it out a name from the books Angel Mother and Angel Father did write in. Early in the morning I will go again to the house of Elsie.
Early on the morning of to-day I did go in the way that does lead to the house of Elsie. I did rap gentle raps on the door, and the young husband of Elsie did come to raise the latch. When the door did come open, I did have seeing that his black pumpadoor did seem to shine more than most times, and all the vaseline was gone from the jar that sets on the kitchen shelf. I did tell him how Elsie did say for me to come early in this morning. And before he did have time for answers, Elsie did have hearing in the other room. She did call. She did call me to come in.
In I went. The baby it was beside her. It was all wrapped in a blanket so it could n’t even have seeings out the window how the raindrops was coming down so fast. The young husband of Elsie did look fond looks at that blanket. I did begin to have fears he did have thinks it was his baby. Elsie did unwrap the blanket from its red face. It’s just as red as it was yesterday, though the rain coming makes the weather more warm. Elsie did say, “See its long hair.” And I did have seeing. It was n’t long though, not more than an inch. It was most black. And its eyes—they were dark. It did have prefers to keep them shut. When I did see them, Elsie did say, “Now about what we were talking about yesterday—next time you go to the house of Dear Love, have seeing of the color of her eyes and hair and also of her husband’s. I hardly think this baby’s hair and eyes are like theirs. And maybe it is where it does belong.” “I feel sure about that,” said her young husband. But I had not feels so.
Just then the mamma did holler for me to come home to bring wood in. I so come. Now she does have me mind the baby. I do print.
When sleeps was come upon the mamma’s baby, I straightway did go in a hurry to the house of Dear Love by the mill by the far woods. All the way along the raindrops were coming in a hurry down. Many of them did say, “Petite Françoise too. I wonder, I wonder.” When I was come to the house of Dear Love, she was there and he was there. Her eyes were light blue, and her hair, it was very light. Most cream hair she has got. And her husband that does call her Dear Love—his eyes they are blue, and he has red hair. I saw. And I was going right back because I did feel sad feels. Dear Love, she did lead me back into her house and did have me to sit on a chair. I sat on its corner. And I felt lumps come up in my throat. She did take off my fascinator, and she did take off my shoes so my feet would get dry.
Then she did take me on her lap and she did ask me what was the matter. And I just did tell her all about it—all about how I had been praying for the angels to bring a baby real soon to them—and how sad feels I did feel because they did n’t have a baby yet. Her husband did smile a quiet smile at her, and roses did come on her cheeks. And I did have thinks that they did have thinks that this baby the angels did bring to the house of Elsie was their baby. Then I did give them careful explanations as how I too did have thinks it was their baby the angels did bring to the house of Elsie, that I did pray for them to have real soon. And as how I did have thinks so yesterday and last night and right up until now, when I did come to their house and have seeings of their blue eyes and his having red hair. I did tell them as how this baby could n’t be theirs, because it has most dark hair and dark eyes—like the eyes and the hair of the young husband of Elsie.
Angels do have a big amount of goodly wisdom. They do bring to folks babies that are like them. To mother sheeps they do bring lambs. To mother horse they do bring a poulain. To mother bats they bring twin bats. To a mother mouse they do bring a baby mulot and some more like it—all at the same time. To mère daine they do bring a baby faon. To the gentle Jersey cow they did bring a baby calf, with creamness and brownness upon it like the creamness and brownness that is upon the gentle Jersey cow. Angels do have a goodly amount of wisdom. They do bring to folks babies that do match them. And after I did tell them that, I did have telling them as how, being as this baby did n’t have eyes and hair to match theirs, it could n’t be their baby. But I did tell them not to have disappoints too bad, because I am going to pray on—and maybe she will get a baby next week.
When I did say that, her young husband did walk over to the window and look long looks out. I have thinks he was having wonders if two or three angels would be coming with the angel that will be bringing their baby, and if the cradle-quilt they bring with it will have a blue bow or a pink bow on it and if its baby brush will have blue fleurs or pink fleurs on it. I have wonders. I think blue fleurs on its baby brush and a blue bow on its cradle-quilt will look nicer with red hair than pink fleurs and a pink bow. I have thinks I better put that in my prayers.
By-and-by, when my feets were dry, they did put my shoes on and they laced them up. They did n’t miss a string-hole like I do sometimes when I am in a hurry to get them tied up. Then, when they did have them tied up, they did want me to stay to dinner; but I did have feels I must hurry back to the house of Elsie and tell her that the baby was hers. She might be having anxious feels about it. When I did say good-bye they did give me two apples—one for William Shakespeare and one for Elizabeth Barrett Browning. And they did give me some cheese for Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus and corn for Lars Porsena of Clusium. And they came a long way with me.
Then I did go on in hurry steps to the house of Elsie. As quick as her young husband did open the door, I did walk right in, for I did have thinks maybe she did have some very anxious feels while I was gone. She smiled glad smiles when I told her it was hers. It must have been an immense amount of relief—her now knowing it really was her own baby. And when I did turn around to tell her young husband it was theirs, her young husband, he just said, “I knew it was mine.” And he looked more fond looks at the blanket it was wrapped in. I have feels now it is nice for them to have it; and it is good that they will not have needs to give it up—being as it matches them. Angels do have a goodly amount of wisdom. This is a wonderful world to live in.
When I did say good-bye to Elsie and the charmante baby, I did go to the barn where is the gentle Jersey cow and the baby calf that does match her. That baby calf I have named Mathilde Plantagenet. I have named her so for Mathilde that was daughter of Roi Henri I and Mathilde that was daughter of Sainte Marguerite that was reine d’Écosse. Mathilde Plantagenet is her name because the name of the man Mathilde did marry, it was Geoffroi Plantagenet. And too in days of summer the gênet fleur grows near unto here. I have had seeings of them by waters that flow by the mill town. And when their bloom time is come, I will make for Mathilde Plantagenet a guirlande of les fleurs de gênet. And we will go walking down the lane.
On the way home from school to-night I did meet with Sadie McKibben, and it was very nice to see her freckles. And she wore her blue gingham apron with cross stitches on it. First when we were met she did kiss me on each cheek. Then she was going to shake hands with me, but I could not shake hands with her with my right hand because Louis II, le Grand Condé, was asleep in my sleeve. I had fears shaking hands with my right hand would disturb his calm. So I gave explanations. And Sadie McKibben did have understanding. She gave me a kiss on my nose and smoothed back my curls and shook hands with my left hand.
When she so did, Felix Mendelssohn did poke his nose out the cuff. He made a quick run up my arm and settled down on my shoulder. He is a very quick-moving mouse. Sadie McKibben did see the movement his moving did make on my sleeve. She asked me if that was all my friends I did take to school to-day. Then I lifted up my apron and I did show her Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil. He was riding in a pocket in my underskirt. She did have wantings to know why it was that I was not carrying him in my apron pocket as I use to do. I told her I did not so now, for teacher does feel of my apron pockets when I do come into school in the morning; so I carry my friends in my sleeves and in pockets in my underskirt.
Sadie McKibben did have understanding. And she did say she thought she would have to be getting me a little basket to carry them in. She said she was going to speak to the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice about the matter. I have thinks to be carried in a warm basket will please the souls of Louis II, le Grand Condé, and Felix Mendelssohn and Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil and all the little folk that do go walking with me. It will be almost as nice as to ride in the pockets of the papa’s big coat. I have thinks I will have needs to put pockets in that basket and divides so there in it will be little rooms, little rooms for all the folks of the nursery. I will let them have their turns riding to school in the basket. And there is enough room in my seat so that basket can set right beside me. I can hardly wait waits until I do have that basket.
When Sadie McKibben did kiss me good-bye, she gave me a sugar-lump for William Shakespeare and a piece of cheese for Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus and a bone for Brave Horatius and ten corn-seeds for Lars Porsena of Clusium. She does have knowings of the likings of my friends. Then she went her way, and I did come my way home to the house we live in.
When I was come, first I did feed the chickens. And then I did go to carry in the wood. It was while I was carrying in wood that Rob Ryder came to borrow a hammer. I have n’t been near unto where he has been since I did bite his hand the other day. And to-day the mamma tried to make me say to that Rob Ryder how sorry I was because I bit him on the hand. But I was n’t a bit sorry. And I would n’t say I was sorry. And if I got a chance I’d bite him again for his laying that big whip to the back of William Shakespeare when he does n’t pull logs fast enough. I know my William Shakespeare and I know how hard he pulls to pull those logs. To pull those logs he does his very best.
And when he was gone away the mamma did spank me most hard with the hair-brush. Then she put me out the door. And I did go from the house we do live in to where do dwell King Edward III and Queen Philippa of Hainault. They are grand trees. We are friends. Often it is I go to where they dwell when the mamma does put me out of the house. To-day I did stay long with them and I did talk long with them. Mostly it was about the lovely England when they were there, we did have talks about to-day. And the wind was talking too. I think the wind does have knowing of this being their wedding day in 1328. As he did come near unto where they dwell, he did walk among the willows by the singing creek. And I did climb down from the arms of Queen Philippa of Hainault and go to gather water-cress for the mamma. She does have such a fondness for it.
Then I did say good-bye, and I did say good-bye to all those twelve trees growing near unto them. And all those twelve trees that do grow near unto King Edward III and Queen Philippa of Hainault—those twelve trees are their twelve children. The tree most near unto Edward III, that is Edward Prince of Wales; and the one next unto him is Lionel Duke of Clarence; and the one most near unto him, that is John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. The time was when there were only ten trees growing there, and I did have needs to plant two more. Two little ones I did plant, and one is for baby Blanche and one is for baby William, the other one.
After I did dish-towel all the dishes that we did use in the breakfast meal, the mamma did send me to get barks for the warming stove. While I was getting barks I did stop to screwtineyes the plump wiggles that were in and under all the barks. Those plump wiggles will grow and change. They will grow and change into beetles. I have seen them do so. I have taken them from the bark and they did so grow into beetles—after some long time. In the nursery I kept them while they did so change.
After the barks was in I did go my way to school. I went aside to Saint Firmin by Nonette. I made a stop where the willows grow. I love to touch fingers with the willows. Then I do feel the feels the willows feel. I did tell them all and every one about this being the going-away day of Charlemagne in 814 and the borning day of Henry VII in 1457. Each pussy-willow baby did wear a gray silk tricot. He did look warm. He smiled, “Bonjour, petite Françoise,” in a friendly way. I think he does remember the days in summer when I did drink in inspirations dabbling my toes by his toes there in the singing brook.
When I did have talks with them for a little time, I did go on. And all along I stopped very often on the way to talk to the other pussy-willows. I was quite late to school. Teacher made me stand in the corner to get my lesson with my face to the wall. I did n’t mind that at all. There was a window in that part of the wall. It was near the corner. I looked looks at my book sometimes. Most of the times I looked looks out the window. I had seeing of little plant folks just peeping out of the earth to see what they could see. I did have thinks it would be nice to be one of them, and then grow up and have a flower and bees a-coming and seed-children at fall-time. I have thinks this is a very interest world to live in. There is so much to see out the window when teacher does have one to stand in the corner to study one’s lesson.
When teacher did send me to my seat to get my slate for arithmetic, I did put Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil in my desk by my Cyr’s Reader. I keep my books in one little corner of my desk, and that does leave a lot of room for my animal friends. There was room enough for Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil to take little nice hops. But while I was having recites with arithmetic, he hopped a little hop too far and he fell out of my desk. I had quivers, and it was hard to pay attentions to arithmetic. When our lessons were done I made a quick go to my seat. I looked a look under for him. He was not there. I looked more looks about. He was rows away over by the seat-row where Lola has her sitting. I did almost sit sideways in my seat, I had such anxious feels about him.
Lola had seeing. She made a reach over. She picked him up in a gentle way. She put him in her apron pocket. She made a begin to study her geography. She asked teacher if she might get a drink from the dipper in the wrap-room. She went. She made a come-back from the wrap-room down our row, going to her geography class. When she went by my desk, she put her hand in my pocket. She went on to the recite bench. Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil was back again in my apron pocket. I felt an immense amount of satisfaction feels.
Some days there is cream to be shaked into butter. The mamma does have me to make a handle go up and down a lot of times in the churn. This makes the butter come. When there is only a little cream to be shaked into butter, then the mamma has me to shake it to and fro in a glass jar. Sometimes it gets awfully heavy and my arms do get ache feels up and down. There are most ache feels when the butter is a long time in coming. It so was to-day. I gave it many shakes, and I was having hopes it soon would be come. After some long time, when it was most come, the lid came off and it all shaked out. Then the mamma did have cross feels and the spanks she gave made me to have sore feels on the back part of me. I was making tries to be helps to her. That butter was almost come.
After I did give the floor washes and mops up where the splashes of buttermilk did jump, then the mamma put me out the door and told me to get out and stay out of her way. I so did. I went out across the field and in along the lane. Lars Porsena of Clusium had going with me. I looked looks away to the meeting of the roads. There was a horse come near unto it. A man was riding on this horse. I like to ride upon a horse. I like to stand up when I ride upon a horse. It is so much joy. I feel the feels the horse does feel when he puts each foot to the ground.
When I did see that horse go on and on, then I did have feels it would be nice to go a long way on explores. I did have thinks William Shakespeare had wants to go. He was in the lane. I gave him pats on the nose and I talked with him about it. We did start on. When we were come to the end of the lane there was the gate. It did take some long time to get it open. The plug did stick so tight and more yet. I did pull and I made more pulls. It came out. It did come out in a quick way. I did have a quick set-down. I got up in a slow way. I did show William Shakespeare the way to go out the gate. He went, I went. We went adown the road. A little way we went and we were come to a stump. I made a climb upon it. From the stump I did climb upon the back of William Shakespeare.
We went on. When we were come to the meeting of the roads, we went the way of the road that goes to the upper camps. We made no stops until we were come to where a long time ago the road had a longing to go across the rivière, and some men that had understanding made it a bridge to go across on. When we were come to the bridge, we made a stop and I did sing to the rivière a song. I sang it Le chant de Seine, de Havre, et Essonne et Nonette et Roullon et Iton et Darnetal et Ourcq et Rille et Loing et Eure et Audelle et Nonette et Sarc. I sang it as Angel Father did teach me to, and as he has wrote it in the book.
And after I did sing it all, we did watch the water splash itself against the legs of the bridge. The water goes not now slow as it did in summer days. We went on. And the boards of the bridge did make squeaks as we went across. And they said in their squeaks, “Petite Françoise, we have been waiting a long time for you to go across the rivière.” And I did have William Shakespeare to make a little stop so I could tell the boards I have been waiting waits a long time to go across. While I so was doing, they did not squeak. When we made a start to go on, they did squeak.