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"Don't you stir a step, you!" she commanded. "They're all hearing you," observed Peletiah, who, seeing Rachel upon her feet, found his spirits reviving, and he pointed to the line of buggies and chaises. "See 'em looking back; my father won't like it." "Oh, dear me!" Rachel struggled with her sobs. "You shouldn't 'a' told me you had 'em. That ain't a funeral."
It seems to me worth preserving, at any rate; and as we heard it from the old man, with his solemn voice and serious expression and quaint gestures, it was singularly impressive. "When I was a youngster," said Captain Lant, "I was an orphan, and I was bound out to old Mr. Peletiah Daw's folks, over on the Ridge Road.
Peletiah's breath was gone entirely by this time, and he sank down by its side without a word, his brother following suit. "I shall carry it now," announced Rachel, gathering up the little pat, safe in its white cloth. "My! 'tain't hurt a bit" She brushed off a few marauding ants. "Come on, now!" Peletiah struggled to his feet and gasped, "I shall carry it," and put out his hands.
Hain't she hurted bad?" she asked anxiously, bringing her cap frills to bear on the boy in front. "Yes, I guess so," said Peletiah cheerfully; "she fell way down all over the cat sitting on the stairs." "Where'd you say she fell?" screamed Grandma. "Cellar stairs," Peletiah raised his voice, too, and sprawled out his hands to show how his Aunt Jerusha must have descended.
Peletiah, left alone with the letters, turned them over and over in his hands, as he stood quite still in the middle of the kitchen floor. He never thought of disobeying, and presently he pulled up another chair, just in front of Grandma, and sat slowly down. "Oh, I know she's got hurted bad," she kept groaning, "an' I shan't never see her again. Oh, the pretty creeter!
So Peletiah, very glad to be released, moved off, and Rachel, putting her mouth to the nodding cap-border, said very distinctly: "Mrs. Fisher sent me to live at the minister's; I'm Rachel." "Oh, my land o' Goshen!" exclaimed Grandma Bascom, lifting both hands in delight. "Why, I can hear you splendid. You see, I'm only a grain deaf. An' so you're that little gal.
The parson's wife took one of the brown hands working nervously under the tablecloth. "Tell me; don't be afraid," she said softly. But Miss Jerusha heard. "Stuff and nonsense!" she exclaimed, with a sneer. "When I was a child, there was no such coddlin' goin' on, I can tell you." "It's Peletiah," said Rachel. "Oh, dear me! he's out on the piazza, and he must be awfully hungry.
"Ain't it sweet!" said Grandma admiringly, when she had looked it all over. "The little precious creeter, to think of her writin' that, and all by herself too!" "You can read it as well upside down," observed Peletiah. "I know it." Grandma beamed at him. "Just think of that child a-writin' that! Who'd ever b'lieve it?"
And Grandma, looking down, saw a little wad in his hand. "Now I do believe that's from the blessed little creeter," she exclaimed, very much excited; "that must be Phronsie's." "Yes, it is," said Peletiah. "Why didn't you tell me that before?" cried Grandma. "You should 'a' read it first of all." She leaned forward in her chair, unable to lose a word.
He indicated the one, and in a minute Rachel was perched on it, with streaming eyes. Peletiah, having started to get a towel, and in his trepidation presenting the dish-rag, the parson dried her tears on his own handkerchief. "Now, then, that is better," he said, in satisfaction, as they all grouped around her chair. "Rachel, there mustn't be anything of this sort tears, I mean again.
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