suspect old ‘Forty-niner’ of wrong things’ll be plumb ready to watch out for one another. Somebody’ll be caught nappin’, sure. ’Tisn’t in human natur’ to walk upright all the time, and it’s foolish to expect it. But–shouldn’t wonder if I’d be the next one accused. And it comin’ Christmas time too. Land! I’m so bestead I’ve sewed that patch in wrong side up. What? Hey? You laughin’? I don’t see anything funny in this business, myself,” said the old lady, fretfully.
“You would if you could look in a glass! Your face is all streaked purple and green, where you cried on your patch,” explained Jessica, whose grief had changed to amusement.
“You don’t say! I knew them colors’d run. John fetched the piece from Marion, last time he went for the mail. Of the two stores there, I don’t know which is the worst. Their ‘Merrimac’ won’t wash, and their flannel shrinks, and their thread breaks every needleful. But, to ‘Boston’–dear me! Whatever did make me think of that place! Now I’ve thought, it’ll stick in my mind till it drives me wild–or back there, and that’s about the same thing. To go live with that slimsy cousin of mine, after being in the same house with your mother, is like falling off a roof into a squashy mud puddle. That’s all the sense and substance there is to Sarah, that was a Harrison before she was a Ma’sh. I warrant she’s clean out of medicine an money, for she’s a regular squanderer when it comes to makin’ rag rugs. I wish you could see ’em! I just wish’t you could. Such dogs and cats as she weaves into ’em would have druv’ Noah plumb crazy if he had to take ’em into the Ark. Their eyes are just round rings of white, with another round ring of black in the middle–”
“Aren’t rings always round, auntie, dear?”
“No, they ain’t. Not after they’ve been trod on!” was the swift retort, as the old lady pointed downwards toward the floor of the porch.
Both stooped and rose again, astonishment deepening upon their faces as Jessica held out her open palm with the injured trinket lying upon it.
“Elsa Winkler’s wedding ring! How came it here?”
“How indeed? I don’t believe that woman’s been on these premises since I came.”
“Even if she had, Aunt Sally, why should she bring the ring with her? It was always too small for her, and she never had it on except during the marriage ceremony. I’ve often heard her laugh about it; how Wolfgang bought a ring as big as his money would pay for, and let it go at that. She didn’t see what difference it made whether it went only on the tip of her finger or all the way down it. But she must have been here, even if we didn’t know it. I’ll take it straight to mother to keep. Then, too, I’ve idled enough. I promised my dear I’d write all her Christmas invitations for her, because she says it will save her the trouble, and be such a help to my education.”
“Christmas! Well, well. Does seem as if I couldn’t leave before then, nohow. And hear me, Jessie, darlin’, don’t you let your poor ma worry her head over your book learning. Being she was a schoolma’am herself makes her feel as if she wasn’t doing the square thing by you letting you run wild, so to speak. If the Lord means you to get schoolin’ He’ll put you in the right way of it, don’t you doubt. Who all does Gabriella set out to ask here to visit?”
“Mr. Hale, of course; and dear Mr. Sharp. I hope Ephraim will be well enough to come, too. Then there are the Winklers, from the mine; the McLeods, from their inn at Marion; and, maybe–we’ve never had a Christmas without him–maybe poor Antonio.”
“Well, all I say is–if you ask him you needn’t ask me. There wouldn’t be room on this whole ranch for the pair of us.”
“Then, of course, it’s you first. Yet, it’s all so puzzling to me. If it’s a time of ‘peace and good will,’ why do people keep on feeling angry with one another?”
“Jessica Trent, dast you stand there and look me in the face and say that you have forgive that sneaky snakey manager for cheating your mother like he did?”
“He was sorry, Aunt Sally. Every letter he sends here tells that.”
“Fiddlesticks!”
“And he’s punished, isn’t he, even if the New York folks let him go free, by his disappointment? I can fancy how dreadful it would seem, did seem to think this beautiful ranch was one’s own, and then suddenly to learn that it was not.”
“Oh! Jessie! You try my soul with your forgivin’ and forgivin’. Next you know you’ll be sorry for Ferd, the dwarf, though ’tis he himself what’s started all this bobery against ‘Forty-niner,’ and eggs them silly Winklers on to be so–so hateful. I’m glad that witless woman did lose her ring, and I hope it’ll never be straightened out. I guess I’m out of conceit with everybody living, not exceptin’ old Sally Benton, herself!”
With this home thrust at her own ill temper, the whimsical woman betook herself and her dangling array of patchwork to Mrs. Trent’s sitting-room; there to discuss the prospects for holiday festivities and to take account of stock, in the way of groceries on hand. Deep in the subject of pies and puddings, they forgot other matters, till a wild whoop outside the window disturbed them, and they beheld Ned and Luis, painted in startling “Indian fashion,” mounted upon a highly decorated horse, which had never been seen in the Sobrante stables.
“Hi, there, mother! Your money or your life!”
“Money–life!” echoed Luis, clinging to his playmate’s waist and peeping over his shoulder.
The horse was rearing and plunging more dangerously each second, and both women rushed to the rescue of the imperiled children, who realized nothing of their danger, but shouted and screamed the louder the more frantic their steed became. Mrs. Trent caught the bridle, and Aunt Sally snatched first one, then the other, child from the creature’s back, who, as soon as he was relieved of his yelling burden, started at a gallop across the garden, ruining its beds and borders on his way.
“Oh, oh! Children, how could you? Whose horse is that? Where did you get that paint? How shall I ever make you clean?”
“I’ll tend to that part, Gabriella. You just call a boy to fix them flower beds before the plants wither. Oh, you rascals! You won’t forget this morning’s fun in a hurry, I warn you! You’ve been in John Benton’s paint pots again. Well, you like paint, you shall have it, and all you want of it too. Red and yeller, green and pink, with a streak of blue. H’m! You’re a tasty lot, ain’t you!”
The lads squirmed and twisted, but Aunt Sally’s grip merely tightened upon them so that finally, they ceased struggling and allowed her to lead them whither she would, which was to the small laundry, that stood at some slight distance from the house. Here she sternly regarded each bedaubed, but otherwise nude, little figure, with so fierce an expression upon her usually pleasant face that the young miscreants winced, and Ned cried out:
“Quit a-talking eyes at me that way, Aunt Sally Benton! I don’t like it.”
“Oh! you don’t, eh? Well, what’d you disgrace yourselves this way for, if ’twasn’t to make folks stare? Where’s your clothes?”
“I don’t know.”
“Very well, then I’ll help you to remember.”
“I won’t be whipped! I’ll tell my mother!” shrieked Ned, retreating toward the closed door of the building.
“Won’t be whipped, old Aunt Sally!” added Luis, clasping his leader; whereupon the customary scuffle ensued; for, no matter
