Mountain-Laurel and Maiden-Hair

by Louisa May Alcott

　　Here's your breakfast, miss. I hope it's right. Your mother showedme how to fix it, and said I'd find a cup up here.""Take that blue one. I have not much appetite, and can't eat ifthings are not nice and pretty. I like the flowers. I've beenlonging for some ever since I saw them last night."The first speaker was a red-haired, freckle-faced girl, in a browncalico dress and white apron, with a tray in her hands and an air oftimid hospitality in her manner; the second a pale, pretty creature,in a white wrapper and blue net, sitting in a large chair, lookingabout her with the languid interest of an invalid in a new place.Her eyes brightened as they fell upon a glass of rosy laurel anddelicate maidenhair fern that stood among the toast and eggs,strawberries and cream, on the tray."Our laurel is jest in blow, and I'm real glad you come in time tosee it. I'll bring you a lot, as soon's ever I get time to go forit."As she spoke, the plain girl replaced the ugly crockery cup andsaucer with the pretty china ones pointed out to her, arranged thedishes, and waited to see if anything else was needed."What is your name, please?" asked the pretty girl, refreshingherself with a draught of new milk."Rebecca. Mother thought I'd better wait on you; the little girlsare so noisy and apt to forget. Wouldn't you like a piller to yourback? you look so kind of feeble seems as if you wanted to bepropped up a mite."There was so much compassion and good-will in the face and voice,that Emily accepted the offer, and let Rebecca arrange a cushionbehind her; then, while the one ate daintily, and the other stirredabout an inner room, the talk went on,--for two girls are seldomlong silent when together."I think the air is going to suit me, for I slept all night andnever woke till Mamma had been up ever so long and got things allnicely settled," said Emily, graciously, when the fresh strawberrieshad been enjoyed, and the bread and butter began to vanish."I'm real glad you like it; most folks do, if they don't mind itbeing plain and quiet up here. It's gayer down at the hotel, but theair ain't half so good, and delicate folks generally like our oldplace best," answered Becky, as she tossed over a mattress and shookout the sheet with a brisk, capable air pleasant to see."I wanted to go to the hotel, but the doctor said it would be toonoisy for me, so Mamma was glad to find rooms here. I didn't think afarm-house could be so pleasant. That view is perfectly splendid!"and Emily sat up to gaze delightedly out of the window, below whichspread the wide intervale, through which the river ran withhay-fields on either side, while along the green slopes of the hillslay farm-houses with garden plots, and big barns waiting for theharvest; and beyond, the rocky, wooded pastures dotted with cattleand musical with cow-bells, brooks, and birds.A balmy wind kissed a little color into the pale cheeks, thelistless eyes brightened as they looked, and the fretful linesvanished from lips that smiled involuntarily at the sweet welcomeNature gave the city child come to rest and play and grow gay androsy in her green lap.Becky watched her with interest, and was glad to see how soon thenew-comer felt the charm of the place, for the girl loved hermountain home, and thought the old farm-house the loveliest spot inthe world."When you get stronger I can show you lots of nice views round here.There's a woodsy place behind the house that's just lovely. Down bythe laurel bushes is my favorite spot, and among the rocks is a cavewhere I keep things handy when I get a resting-spell now and then,and want to be quiet. Can't get much at home, when there's boardersand five children round in vacation time."Becky laughed as she spoke, and there was a sweet motherly look inher plain face, as she glanced at the three little red heads bobbingabout the door-yard below, where hens cackled, a pet lamb fed, andthe old white dog lay blinking in the sun."I like children; we have none at home, and Mamma makes such a babyof me I'm almost ashamed sometimes. I want her to have a good restnow, for she has taken care of me all winter and needs it. You shallbe my nurse, if I need one; but I hope to be so well soon that I cansee to myself. It's so tiresome to be ill!" and Emily sighed as sheleaned back among her pillows, with a glance at the little glasswhich showed her a thin face and shorn head."It must be! I never was sick, but I have taken care of sick folks,and have a sight of sympathy for 'em. Mother says I make a prettygood nurse, being strong and quiet," answered Becky, plumping uppillows and folding towels with a gentle despatch which was verygrateful to the invalid, who had dreaded a noisy, awkwardserving-maid."Never ill! how nice that must be! I'm always having colds andheadaches, and fusses of some kind. What do you do to keep well,Rebecca?" asked Emily, watching her with interest, as she came in toremove the tray."Nothing but work; I haven't time to be sick, and when I'm tuckeredout, I go and rest over yonder. Then I'm all right, and buckle toagain, as smart as ever;" and every freckle in Becky's rosy faceseemed to shine with cheerful strength and courage."I'm 'tuckered out' doing nothing," said Emily, amused with the newexpression, and eager to try a remedy which showed such fine resultsin this case. "I shall visit your pet places and do a little work assoon as I am able, and see if it won't set me up. Now I can onlydawdle, doze, and read a little. Will you please put those bookshere on the table? I shall want them by-and-by."Emily pointed to a pile of blue and gold volumes lying on a trunk,and Becky dusted her hands as she took them up with an air ofreverence, for she read on the backs of the volumes names which madeher eyes sparkle."Do you care for poetry?" asked Emily, surprised at the girl's lookand manner."Guess I do! don't get much except the pieces I cut out of papers,but I love 'em, and stick 'em in an old ledger, and keep it down inmy cubby among the rocks. I do love that man's pieces. They seem togo right to the spot somehow;" and Becky smiled at the name ofWhittier as if the sweetest of our poets was a dear old friend ofhers."I like Tennyson better. Do you know him?" asked Emily, with asuperior air, for the idea of this farmer's daughter knowinganything about poetry amused her."Oh yes, I've got a number of his pieces in my book, and I'm fond of'em. But this man makes things so kind of true and natural I feel athome with him. And this one I've longed to read, though I guess Ican't understand much of it. His 'Bumble Bee' was just lovely; withthe grass and columbines and the yellow breeches of the bee. I'mnever tired of that;" and Becky's face woke up into something likebeauty as she glanced hungrily at the Emerson while she dusted thedelicate cover that hid the treasures she coveted."I don't care much for him, but Mamma does. I like romantic poems,and ballads, and songs; don't like descriptions of clouds andfields, and bees, and farmers," said Emily, showing plainly thateven Emerson's simplest poems were far above her comprehension asyet, because she loved sentiment more than Nature."I do, because I know 'em better than love and the romantic stuffmost poetry tells about. But I don't pretend to judge, I'm glad ofanything I can get. Now if you don't want me I'll pick up my dishesand go to work."With that Becky went away, leaving Emily to rest and dream with hereyes on the landscape which was giving her better poetry than anyher books held. She told her mother about the odd girl, and was sureshe would be amusing if she did not forget her place and try to befriends."She is a good creature, my dear, her mother's main stay, and worksbeyond her strength, I am sure. Be kind to the poor girl, and put alittle pleasure into her life if you can," answered Mrs. Spenser, asshe moved about, settling comforts and luxuries for her invalid."I shall have to talk to her, as there is no other person of my agein the house. How are the school marms? shall you get on with them,Mamma? It will be so lonely here for us both, if we don't makefriends with some one.""Most intelligent and amiable women all three, and we shall havepleasant times together, I am sure. You may safely cultivate Becky;Mrs. Taylor told me she was a remarkably bright girl, though she maynot look it.""Well, I'll see. But I do hate freckles and big red hands, and roundshoulders. She can't help it, I suppose, but ugly things fret me.""Remember that she has no time to be pretty, and be glad she is soneat and willing. Shall we read, dear? I'm ready now."Emily consented, and listened for an hour or two while the pleasantvoice beside her conjured away all her vapors with some of Mrs.Ewing's charming tales."The grass is dry now, and I want to stroll on that green lawnbefore lunch. You rest, Mamma dear, and let me make discoveries allalone," proposed Emily, when the sun shone warmly, and the instinctof all young creatures for air and motion called her out.So, with her hat and wrap, and book and parasol, she set forth toexplore the new land in which she found herself.Down the wide, creaking stairs and out upon the door-stone she went,pausing there for a moment to decide where first to go. The sound ofsome one singing in the rear of the house led her in that direction,and turning the corner she made her first pleasant discovery. A hillrose steeply behind the farm-house, and leaning from the bank was anold apple-tree, shading a spring that trickled out from the rocksand dropped into a mossy trough below. Up the tree had grown a wildgrape-vine, making a green canopy over the great log which served asa seat, and some one had planted maidenhair ferns about both seatand spring to flourish beautifully in the damp, shady spot."Oh, how pretty! I'll go and sit there. It looks clean, and I cansee what is going on in that big kitchen, and hear the singing. Isuppose it's Becky's little sisters by the racket."Emily established herself on the lichen-covered log with her feetupon a stone, and sat enjoying the musical tinkle of the water, withher eyes on the delicate ferns stirring in the wind, and the livelyjingle of the multiplication-table chanted by childish voices in herear.Presently two little girls with a great pan of beans came to dotheir work on the back doorstep, a third was seen washing dishes ata window, and Becky's brown-spotted gown flew about the kitchen asif a very energetic girl wore it. A woman's voice was heard givingdirections, as the speaker was evidently picking chickens somewhereout of sight.A little of the talk reached Emily and both amused and annoyed her,for it proved that the country people were not as stupid as theylooked."Oh, well, we mustn't mind if she is notional and kind of wearing;she's been sick, and it will take time to get rid of her frettyways. Jest be pleasant, and take no notice, and that nice mother ofhers will make it all right," said the woman's voice."How anybody with every mortal thing to be happy with can beout-of-sorts passes me. She fussed about every piller, chair, trunk,and mite of food last night, and kept that poor tired lady trottingtill I was provoked. She's right pleasant this morning though, andas pretty as a picture in her ruffled gown and that blue thing onher head," answered Becky from the pantry, as she rattled out thepie-board, little dreaming who sat hidden behind the grape-vinefestoons that veiled the corner by the spring."Well, she's got redder hair 'n' we have, so she needn't be so grandand try to hide it with blue nets," added one little voice."Yes, and it's ever so much shorter 'n' ours, and curls all over herhead like Daisy's wool. I should think such a big girl would feelreal ashamed without no braids," said the other child, proudlysurveying the tawny mane that hung over her shoulders,--for likemost red-haired people all the children were blessed with luxuriantcrops of every shade from golden auburn to regular carrots."I think it's lovely. Suppose it had to be cut off when she had thefever. Wish I could get rid of my mop, it's such a bother;" andBecky was seen tying a clean towel over the great knot that made herhead look very like a copper kettle."Now fly round, deary, and get them pies ready. I'll have thesefowls on in a minute, and then go to my butter. You run off and seeif you can't find some wild strawberries for the poor girl, soon'sever you are through with them beans, children. We must kind ofpamper her up for a spell till her appetite comes back," said themother.Here the chat ended, and soon the little girls were gone, leavingBecky alone rolling out pie-crust before the pantry window. As sheworked her lips moved, and Emily, still peeping through the leaves,wondered what she was saying, for a low murmur rose and fell,emphasized now and then with a thump of the rolling-pin."I mean to go and find out. If I stand on that wash-bench I can lookin and see her work. I'll show them all that I'm not 'fussy,' andcan be 'right pleasant' if I like."With this wise resolution Emily went down the little path, and afterpausing to examine the churn set out to dry, and the row of pansshining on a neighboring shelf, made her way to the window, mountedthe bench while Becky's back was turned, and pushing away themorning-glory vines and scarlet beans that ran up on either sidepeeped in with such a smiling face that the crossest cook could nothave frowned on her as an intruder."May I see you work? I can't eat pies, but I like to watch peoplemake them. Do you mind?""Not a bit. I'd ask you to come in, but it's dreadful hot here, andnot much room," answered Becky, crimping round the pastry before shepoured in the custard. "I'm going to make a nice little pudding foryou; your mother said you liked 'em; or would you rather havewhipped cream with a mite of jelly in it?" asked Becky, anxious tosuit her new boarder."Whichever is easiest to make. I don't care what I eat. Do tell mewhat you were saying. It sounded like poetry," said Emily, leaningboth elbows on the wide ledge with a pale pink morning-glory kissingher cheek, and a savory odor reaching her nose."Oh, I was mumbling some verses. I often do when I work, it sort ofhelps me along; but it must sound dreadfully silly," and Beckyblushed as if caught in some serious fault."I do it, and it's a great comfort when I lie awake. I should thinkyou would want something to help you along, you work so hard. Do youlike it, Becky?"The familiar name, the kind tone, made the plain face brighten withpleasure as its owner said, while she carefully filled a pretty bowlwith a golden mixture rich with fresh eggs and country milk--"No, I don't, but I ought to. Mother isn't as strong as she used tobe, and there's a sight to do, and the children to be brought up,and the mortgage to be paid off; so if I don't fly round, whowill? We are doing real well now, for Mr. Walker manages the farmand gives us our share, so our living is all right; then boarders insummer and my school in winter helps a deal, and every year the boyscan do more, so I'd be a real sinner to complain if I do have tostep lively all day."Becky smiled as she spoke, and straightened her bent shoulders as ifsettling her burden for another trudge along the path of duty."Do you keep school? Why, how old are you, Becky?" asked Emily, muchimpressed by this new discovery."I'm eighteen. I took the place of a teacher who got sick last fall,and I kept school all winter. Folks seemed to like me, and I'm goingto have the same place this year. I'm so glad, for I needn't go awayand the pay is pretty good, as the school is large and the childrendo well. You can see the school-house down the valley, that redbrick one where the roads meet;" and Becky pointed a floury finger,with an air of pride that was pleasant to see.Emily glanced at the little red house where the sun shone hotly insummer, and all the winds of heaven must rage wildly in winter time,for it stood, as country schools usually do, in the barest, mostuninviting spot for miles around."Isn't it awful down there in winter?" she asked, with a shiver atthe idea of spending days shut up in that forlorn place, with acrowd of rough country children."Pretty cold, but we have plenty of wood, and we are used to snowand gales up here. We often coast down, the whole lot of us, andthat is great fun. We take our dinners and have games noon-spells,and so we get on first rate; some of my boys are big fellows, olderthan I am; they clear the roads and make the fire and look after us,and we are real happy together."Emily found it so impossible to imagine happiness under suchcircumstances that she changed the subject by asking in a tone whichhad unconsciously grown more respectful since this last revelationof Becky's abilities,--"If you do so well here, why don't you try for a larger school in abetter place?""Oh, I couldn't leave mother yet; I hope to some day, when the girlsare older, and the boys able to get on alone. But I can't go now,for there's a sight of things to do, and mother is always laid upwith rheumatism in cold weather. So much butter-making down cellaris bad for her; but she won't let me do that in summer, so I takecare of her in winter. I can see to things night and morning, andthrough the day she's quiet, and sits piecing carpet-rags andresting up for next spring. We made and wove all the carpets in thehouse, except the parlor one. Mrs. Taylor gave us that, and thecurtains, and the easy-chair. Mother takes a sight of comfort inthat.""Mrs. Taylor is the lady who first came to board here, and told usand others about it," said Emily."Yes, and she's the kindest lady in the world! I'll tell you allabout her some day, it's real interesting; now I must see to mypies, and get the vegetables on," answered Becky, glancing at thegay clock in the kitchen with an anxious look."Then I won't waste any more of your precious time. May I sit inthat pretty place; or is it your private bower?" asked Emily, as shedismounted from the wash-bench."Yes, indeed you may. That's mother's resting-place when work isdone. Father made the spring long ago, and I put the ferns there.She can't go rambling round, and she likes pretty things, so wefixed it up for her, and she takes comfort there nights."Becky bustled off to the oven with her pies, and Emily roamed awayto the big barn to lie on the hay, enjoying the view down thevalley, as she thought over what she had seen and heard, and verynaturally contrasted her own luxurious and tenderly guarded lifewith this other girl's, so hard and dull and narrow. Working allsummer and teaching all winter in that dismal little school-house,with no change but home cares and carpet-weaving! It looked horribleto pleasure-loving Emily, who led the happy, care-free life ofgirls of her class, with pleasures of all sorts, and a future ofstill greater luxury, variety, and happiness, opening brightlybefore her.It worried her to think of any one being contented with such ameagre share of the good things of life, when she was unsatisfied inspite of the rich store showered upon her. She could not understandit, and fell asleep wishing every one could be comfortable,--it wasso annoying to see them grubbing in kitchens, teaching in bleakschool-houses among snow-drifts, and wearing ugly calico gowns.A week or two of quiet, country fare and the bracing mountain airworked wonders for the invalid, and every one rejoiced to see thepale cheeks begin to grow round and rosy, the languid eyes tobrighten, and the feeble girl who used to lie on her sofa half theday now go walking about with her alpenstock, eager to explore allthe pretty nooks among the hills. Her mother blessed Mrs. Taylor forsuggesting this wholesome place. The tired "school marms," as Emilycalled the three young women who were their fellow-boarders,congratulated her as well as themselves on the daily improvement instrength and spirits all felt; and Becky exulted in the marvellouseffects of her native air, aided by mother's good cookery and thecheerful society of the children, whom the good girl considered themost remarkable and lovable youngsters in the world.Emily felt like the queen of this little kingdom, and was regardedas such by every one, for with returning health she lost her fretfulways, and living with simple people, soon forgot her girlish airsand vanities, becoming very sweet and friendly with all about her.The children considered her a sort of good fairy who could grantwishes with magical skill, as various gifts plainly proved. The boyswere her devoted servants, ready to run errands, "hitch up" and takeher to drive at any hour, or listen in mute delight when she sang toher guitar in the summer twilight.But to Becky she was a special godsend and comfort, for before thefirst month had gone they were good friends, and Emily had made adiscovery which filled her head with brilliant plans for Becky'sfuture, in spite of her mother's warnings, and the sensiblegirl's own reluctance to be dazzled by enthusiastic prophecies anddreams.It came about in this way. Some three weeks after the two girls met,Emily went one evening to their favorite trysting-place,--Becky'sbower among the laurels. It was a pretty nook in the shadow of agreat gray bowlder near the head of the green valley which ran downto spread into the wide intervale below. A brook went babbling amongthe stones and grass and sweet-ferns, while all the slope was rosywith laurel-flowers in their times, as the sturdy bushes grewthickly on the hill-side, down the valley, and among the woods thatmade a rich background for these pink and white bouquets arrangedwith Nature's own careless grace.Emily liked this spot, and ever since she had been strong enough toreach it, loved to climb up and sit there with book and work,enjoying the lovely panorama before her. Floating mists often gaveher a constant succession of pretty pictures; now a sunny glimpse ofthe distant lake, then the church spire peeping above the hill, or aflock of sheep feeding in the meadow, a gay procession of youngpilgrims winding up the mountain, or a black cloud heavy with acoming storm, welcome because of the glorious rainbow and its shadowwhich would close the pageant.Unconsciously the girl grew to feel not only the beauty but thevalue of these quiet hours, to find a new peace, refreshment, andhappiness, bubbling up in her heart as naturally as the brook gushedout among the mossy rocks, and went singing away through hayfieldsand gardens, and by dusty roads, till it met the river and rolled onto the sea. Something dimly stirred in her, and the healing spiritthat haunts such spots did its sweet ministering till the innocentsoul began to see that life was not perfect without labor as well aslove, duty as well as happiness, and that true contentment came fromwithin, not from without.On the evening we speak of, she went to wait for Becky, who wouldjoin her as soon as the after-supper chores were done. In the littlecave which held a few books, a dipper, and a birch-bark basket forberries, Emily kept a sketching block and a box of pencils, andoften amused herself by trying to catch some of the lovely scenesbefore her. These efforts usually ended in a humbler attempt, and agood study of an oak-tree, a bit of rock, or a clump of ferns wasthe result. This evening the sunset was so beautiful she could notdraw, and remembering that somewhere in Becky's scrap-book there wasa fine description of such an hour by some poet, she pulled out theshabby old volume, and began to turn over the leaves.She had never cared to look at it but once, having read all the bestof its contents in more attractive volumes, so Becky kept it tuckedaway in the farther corner of her rustic closet, and evidentlythought it a safe place to conceal a certain little secret whichEmily now discovered. As she turned the stiff pages filled with allsorts of verses, good, bad, and indifferent, a sheet of paperappeared on which was scribbled these lines in school-girlhandwriting:--