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The Fore-Room Rug | |
Author | Kate Douglas Wiggin |
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Published |
1895
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Language | English |
Nationality | American |
Genre | Children's Literature, Domestic Fiction |
1895 Short Story
The Fore-Room Rug
The Fore-Room Rug is an English Children's Literature, Domestic Fiction short story by American writer Kate Douglas Wiggin. It was first published in 1895. The Fore-Room Rug was published in 1895, retrieved from The Junior Classics: Stories of To-day (1912).
The Fore-Room Rug
by Kate Douglas Wiggin
Diadema, wife of Jot Bascom, was sitting at the window of the village watch-tower, so called because it commanded a view of nearly everything that happened in Pleasant River; those details escaping the physical eye being supplied by faith and imagination working in the light of past experience. She sat in the chair of honor, the chair of choice, the high-backed rocker by the southern window, in which her husbands mother, old Mrs. Bascom, had sat for thirty years, applying a still more powerful intellectual telescope to the doings of her neighbors. Diademas seat had formerly been on the less desirable side of the little light-stand, where Priscilla Hollis was now installed.
Mrs. Bascom was at work on a new fore-room rug, the former one having been transferred to Miss Holliss chamber; for, as the teacher at the brick schoolhouse, a graduate of a Massachusetts normal school and the daughter of a deceased judge, she was a boarder of considerable consequence. It was a rainy Saturday afternoon, and the two women were alone. It was a pleasant, peaceful sitting-room, as neat as wax in every part. The floor was covered by a cheerful patriotic rag carpet woven entirely of red, white, and blue rags, and protected in various exposed localities by button rugsred, white, and blue disks superimposed one on the other.
Diadema Bascom was a person of some sentiment. When her old father, Captain Dennett, was dying, he drew a wallet from under his pillow, and handed her a twenty-dollar bill to get something to remember him by. This unwonted occurrence burned itself into the daughters imagination, and when she came as a bride to the Bascom house she refurnished the sitting-room as a kind of monument to the departed soldier, whose sword and musket were now tied to the wall with neatly hemmed bows of bright red cotton.
The chair cushions were of red-and-white glazed patch, the turkey wings that served as hearth brushes were hung against the white-painted chimney-piece with blue skirt braid, and the white shades were finished with home-made scarlet tossels. A little whatnot in one corner was laden with the trophies of battle. The warriors brass buttons were strung on a red picture cord and hung over his daguerreotype on the upper shelf; there was a tarnished shoulder strap, and a flattened bullet that the captains jealous contemporaries swore he never stopped, unless he got it in the rear when he was flying from the foe. There was also a little tin canister in which a charge of powder had been sacredly preserved. The scoffers, again, said that the capn put it in his musket when he went into the war, and kep it there till he come out. These objects were tastefully decorated with the national colors. In fact, no modern æsthete could have arranged a symbolic symphony of grief and glory with any more fidelity to an ideal than Diadema Bascom, in working out her scheme of red, white, and blue.
Rows of ripening tomatoes lay along the ledges of the windows, and a tortoiseshell cat snoozed on one of the broad sills. The tall clock in the corner ticked peacefully. Priscilla Hollis never tired of looking at the jolly red-cheeked moon, the group of stars on a blue ground, the trig little ship, the old house, and the jolly moon again, creeping one after another across the open space at the top.
Jot Bascom was out, as usual, gathering statistics of the last horse trade; little Jot was building stickin houses in the barn; Priscilla was sewing long strips for braiding; while Diadema sat at the drawing-in frame, hook in hand, and a large basket of cut rags by her side.
Not many weeks before she had paid one of her periodical visits to the attic. No housekeeper in Pleasant River save Mrs. Jonathan Bascom would have thought of dusting a garret, washing the window and sweeping down the cobwebs once a month, and renewing the camphor bags in the chests twice a year; but notwithstanding this zealous care the moths had made their way into one of her treasure-houses, the most precious of allthe old hair trunk that had belonged to her sister Lovice. Once ensconced there, they had eaten through its hoarded relics, and reduced the faded finery to a state best described by Diadema as reglar riddlin sieves. She had brought the tattered pile down into the kitchen, and had spent a tearful afternoon in cutting the good pieces from the perforated garments. Three heaped-up baskets and a full dish-pan were the result; and as she had snipped and cut and sorted, one of her sentimental projects had entered her mind and taken complete possession there.
I declare, she said, as she drew her hooking-needle in and out, I wouldnt set in the room with some folks and work on these pieces; for every time I draw in a scrap of cloth Lovice comes up to me for all the world as if she was settin on the sofy there. I aint told you my plan, Miss Hollis, and there aint many I shall tell; but this rug is going to be a kind of a histry of my life and Loveys wrought in together, just as we was bound up in one another when she was alive. Her things and mine was laid in one trunk, and the moths shant cheat me out of em altogether. If I cant look at em wet Sundays, and shake em out, and have a good cry over em, Ill make em up into a kind of dumb show that will mean something to me, if it dont to anybody else.
We was the youngest of thirteen, Lovey and I, and we was twins. Theres never been moren half o me left sence she died. We was born together, played and went to school together, got engaged and married together, and we all but died together, yet we want a mite alike. There was an old lady come to our house once that used to say, Theres sister Nabby, now: shen I aint no more alike n if we want two; shes jest as difrent as I am tother way. Well, I know what I want to put into my rag story, Miss Hollis, but I dont hardly know how to begin.
Priscilla dropped her needle, and bent over the frame with interest.
A spray of two roses in the centertheres the beginning; why, dont you see, dear Mrs. Bascom?
Course I do, said Diadema, diving to the bottom of the dish-pan. Ive got my start now, and dont you say a word for a minute. The two roses grow out of one stalk; theyll be Lovey and me, though Im considable more like a potato blossom. The stalks got to be green, and here is the very green silk mother walked bride in, and Lovey and I had roundabouts of it afterwards. She had the chicken-pox when we was about four years old, and one of the first things I can remember is climbing up and looking over mothers footboard at Lovey, all speckled. Mother had let her slip on her new green roundabout over her nightgown, just to pacify her, and there she set playing with the kitten Reuben Granger had brought her. He was only ten years old then, but hed begun courting Lovice. The Grangers farm joined ours. They had eleven children, and mother and father had thirteen, and we was always playing together. Mother used to tell a funny story about that. We were all little young ones and looked pretty much alike, so she didnt take much notice of us in the daytime when we was running out n in; but at night, when the turn-up bedstead in the kitchen was taken down and the trundle-beds were full, she used to count us over, to see if we were all there. One night, when shed counted thirteen and set down to her sewing, father come in and asked if Moses was all right, for one of the neighbors had seen him playing side of the river about supper-time. Mother knew shed counted us straight, but she went round with a candle to make sure. Now, Mr. Granger had a head as red as a sumac bush; and when she carried the candle close to the beds to take another tally, there was thirteen children, sure enough, but if there want a red-headed Granger right in amongst our boys in the turn-up bedstead! While father set out on a hunt for our Moses, mother yanked the sleepy little red-headed Granger out o the middle and took him home, and father found Moses asleep on a pile of shavings under the joiners bench.
They dont have such families nowadays. One time when measles went all over the village, they never came to us, and Jabe Slocum said there want enough measles to go through the Dennett family, so they didnt start in on em. There, I aint going to finish the stalk; Im going to draw in a little here and there all over the rug, while Im in the sperit of plannin it, and then it will be plain work of matching colors and filling out.
You see the stalk is mothers dress, and the outside green of the moss roses is the same goods, only its our roundabouts. I meant to make em red, when I marked the pattern, and then fill out round em with a light color; but now I aint satisfied with anything but white, for nothing will do in the middle of the rug but our white wedding dresses. I shall have to fill in dark, then, or mixed. Well, that wont be out of the way, if its going to be a true rag story; for Loveys life went out altogether, and mine hasnt been any too gay.
Ill begin Loveys rose first. She was the prettiest and the liveliest girl in the village, and she had more beaux than you could shake a stick at. I generally had to take what she left over. Reuben Granger was crazy about her from the time she was knee-high; but when he went away to Bangor to study for the ministry, the others had it all their own way. She was only seventeen; she hadnt ever experienced religion, and she was mischievous as a kitten.
You remember you laughed, this morning, when Mr. Bascom told about Hogshead Jowett? Well, he used to want to keep company with Lovey; but she couldnt abide him, and whenever he come to court her she clim into a hogshead, and hid till after hed gone. The boys found it out, and used to call him Hogshead Jowett. He was the biggest fool in Foxboro Four Corners; and thats saying considable, for Foxboro is famous for its fools, and always has been. There was thirteen of em there one year. They say a man come out from Portland, and when he got as fur as Foxboro he kep inquiring the way to Dunstan; and I declare if he didnt meet them thirteen fools, one after another, standing in their front dooryards ready to answer questions. When he got to Dunstan, says he, For the Lords sake, what kind of a village is it that Ive just went through? Be they all fools there?
Hogshead was scairt to death whenever he come to see Lovice. One night, when hed been there once, and shed hid, as she always done, he come back a second time, and she went to the door, not mistrusting it was him. Did you forget anything? says she, sparkling out at him through a little crack. He was all taken aback by seeing her, and he stammered out, Yes, I forgot my hankchief; but it dont make no odds, for I didnt pay out but fifteen cents for it two year ago, and I dont make no use of it ceptins to wipe my nose on. How we did laugh over that! Well, he had a conviction of sin pretty soon afterwards, and praps it helped his head some; at any rate, he quit farming, and become a Bullockite preacher.
It seems odd, when Lovice want a perfessor herself, she should have drawed the most pious young men in the village, but she did; she had good Orthodox beaux, Free and Close Baptists, Millerites and Adventists, all on her string together; she even had one Cochranite, though the sect had mostly died out. But when Reuben Granger come home, a full-feathered-out minister, he seemed to strike her fancy as he never had before, though they were always good friends from children. He had light hair and blue eyes and fair skin (his business being under cover kep him bleached out), and he and Lovey made the prettiest couple you ever see; for she was dark complexioned, and her cheeks no otherways than scarlit the whole durin time. She had a change of heart that winter; in fact, she had two of em, for she changed hers for Reubens, and found a hope at the same time. Twas a good, honest conversion, too, though she did say to me she was afraid that if Reuben hadnt taught her what love was or might be, shed never have found out enough about it to love God as shed ought to.
There, Ive begun both roses, and hers is bout finished. I shant have moren enough white alapaca. Its lucky the moths spared one breadth of the wedding dresses; we was married on the same day, you know, and dressed just alike. Jot want quite ready to be married, for he want any more forehanded bout that than he was bout other things; but I told him Lovey and I had kept up with each other from the start, and hed got to fall into line or drop out of the percession. Now what next?
Wasnt there anybody at the wedding but you and Lovice? asked Priscilla, with an amused smile.
Land, yes! The meeting-house was cram jam full. Oh, to be sure! I know what youre driving at! Well, I have to laugh to think I should have forgot the husbands! Theyll have to be worked into the story, certain; but itll be considable of a chore, for I cant make flowers out of coat and pants stuff, and there aint any more flowers on this branch, anyway.
Diadema sat for a few minutes in rapt thought, and then made a sudden inspired dash upstairs, where Miss Hollis presently heard her rummaging in an old chest. She soon came down, triumphant.
Want it a providence I saved Jots and Reubens wedding ties! And here they areone yellow and green mixed, and one brown. Do you know what Im going to do? Im going to draw in a butterfly hovering over them two roses, and make it out of the necktiesgreen with brown spots. Thatll bring in the husbands; and land! I wouldnt have either of em know it for the world. Ill take a pattern of that lunar moth you pinned on the curtain yesterday.
Miss Hollis smiled in spite of herself. You have some very ingenious ideas and some very pretty thoughts, Mrs. Bascom, do you know it?
Its the first time I ever heard tell of it, said Diadema cheerfully. Lovey was the pretty-spoken, pretty-appearing one; I was always plain and practical. While I think of it, Ill draw in a little mite of this red into my carnation pink. It was a red scarf Reuben brought Lovey from Portland. It was the first thing he ever give her, and aunt Hitty said if one of the Abel Grangers give away anything that cost money, it meant business. That was all fol-de-rol, for there never was a more liberal husband, though he was a poor minister; but then they always are poor, without theyre rich; there dont seem to be any half-way in ministers.
We was both lucky that way. There aint a stingy bone in Jot Bascoms body. He dont make much money, but what he does make goes into the bureau drawer, and the one that needs it most takes it out. He never asks me what I done with the last five cents he give me. Youve never been married, Miss Hollis, and you aint engaged, so you dont know much about it; but I tell you theres a heap o foolishness talked about husbands. If you get the one you like yourself, I dont know as it matters if all the other women folks in town dont happen to like him as well as you do; they aint called on to do that. They see the face he turns to them, not the one he turns to you. Jot aint a very good provider, nor he aint a man thats much use round a farm, but hes such a favrite I cant blame him. Theres one thing: when he does come home hes got something to say, and hes always as lively as a cricket, and smiling as a basket of chips. I like a man thats good compny, even if he aint so forehanded. There aint anything specially lovable about forehandedness, when you come to that. I shouldnt ever feel drawed to a man because he was on time with his work. Hes got such pleasant ways, Jot has! The other afternoon he didnt get home early enough to milk; and after I done the two cows, I split the kindling and brought in the wood, for I knew hed want to go to the tavern and tell the boys bout the robbery up to Boylston. There aint anybody but Jot in this village that has wit enough to find out whats going on, and tell it in an intresting way round the tavern fire. And he can do it without being full of cider, too; he dont need any apple juice to limber his tongue!
Well, when he come in, he sees the pails of milk, and the full wood-box, and the supper laid out under the screen cloth on the kitchen table, and he come up to me at the sink, and says he, Diademy, youre the best wife in this county, and the brightest jewel in my crownthats what you are! (He got that idee out of a duet he sings with Almiry Berry.) Now Id like to know whether that aint pleasanter than tis to have a man do all the shed n barn work up smart, and then set round the stove looking as doleful as a last years birds-nest? Take my advice, Miss Hollis: get a good provider if you can, but anyhow try to find you a husband thatll keep on courting a little now and then, when he aint too busy; it smooths things considable round the house.
There, I got so intrested in what I was saying, Ive went on and finished the carnation, and some of the stem, too. Now what comes next? Why, the thing that happened next, of course, and that was little Jot.
Ill work in a bud on my rose and one on Loveys, and my budll be made of Jots first trousers. The goods aint very appropriate for a rosebud, but itll be mostly covered with green on the outside, and itll have to do, for the idee is the most important thing in this rug. When I put him into pants, I hadnt any cloth in the house, and it was such bad going Jot couldnt get to Wareham to buy me anything; so I made em out of an old gray cashmere skirt, and lined em with flannel.
Buds are generally the same color as the roses, arent they? ventured Priscilla.
I dont care if they be, said Diadema obstinately. Whats to hender this buds bein grafted on? Mrs. Granger was as black as an Injun, but the little Granger children were all red-headed, for they took after their father. But I dont know; youve kind o got me out o conceit with it. I spose I could have taken a piece of his baby blanket; but the moths never et a mite o that, and its too good to cut up. Theres one thing I can do: I can make the bud with a long stem, and have it growing right up alongside of minewould you?
No, it must be stalk of your stalk, bone of your bone, flesh of your flesh, so to speak. I agree with you, the idea is the first thing. Besides, the gray is a very light shade, and I dare say it will look like a bluish white.
Ill try it and see; but I wish to the land the moths had eat the pinning-blanket, and then I could have used it. Lovey worked the scallops on the aidge for me. My grief! what intrest she took in my baby clothes! Little Jot was born at Thanksgiving time, and she come over from Skowhegan, where Reuben was settled pastor of his first church. I shall never forget them two weeks to the last day of my life. There was deep snow on the ground. I had that chamber there, with the door opening into this setting-room. Mother and father Bascom kep out in the dining-room and kitchen, where the work was going on, and Lovey and the baby and me had the front part of the house to ourselves, with Jot coming in on tiptoe, heaping up wood in the fireplaces so t he most roasted us out. He dont forget his chores in time o sickness.
I never took so much comfort in all my days. Jot got one of the Billings girls to come over and help in the housework so t I could lay easy s long as I wanted to; and I never had such a rest before nor since. There aint any heaven in the book o Revelations thats any better than them two weeks was. I used to lay quiet in my good feather bed, fingering the pattern of my best crochet quilt, and looking at the fire-light shining on Lovey and the baby. Shed hardly leave him in the cradle a minute. When I didnt want him in bed with me, shed have him in her lap. Babies are common enough to most folks, but Lovey was diffrent. Shed never had any experience with children, either, for we was the youngest in our family; and it want long before we come near being the oldest, too, for mother buried seven of us before she went herself. Anyway, I never saw nobody else look as she done when she held my baby. I dont mean nothing blasphemious when I say twas for all the world like your photograph of Mary, the mother of Jesus.
The nights come in early, so it was most dark at four oclock. The little chamber was so peaceful! I could hear Jot rattling the milk-pails, but Id draw a deep breath o comfort, for I knew the milk would be strained and set away without my stepping foot to the floor. Lovey used to set by the fire, with a tall candle on the light-stand behind her, and a little white knit cape over her shoulders. She had the pinkest cheeks, and the longest eyelashes, and a mouth like a little red buttonhole; and when she bent over the baby, and sung to himthough his ears want open, I guess, for his eyes wantthe tears o joy used to rain down my cheeks. It was pennyrial hymns she used to sing mostly, and the one I remember best was:
Daniels wisdom may I know, Stephens faith and spirit show; Johns divine communion feel, Moses meekness, Joshuas zeal, Run like the unwearied Paul, Win the day and conquer all. Marys love may I possess, Lydias tender-heartedness, Peters fervent spirit feel, Jamess faith by works reveal, Like young Timothy may I Every sinful passion fly.
Oh, Diademy, shed say, you was always the best, and its nothing moren right the baby should have come to you. Praps God will think Im good enough some time; and if he does, Diademy, Ill offer up a sacrifice every morning and every evening. But Im afraid, says she, He thinks I cant stand any more happiness, and be a faithful follower of the cross. The Bible says weve got to wade through fiery floods before we can enter the kingdom. I dont hardly know how Reuben and I are going to find any to wade through; were both so happy, theyd have to be considable hot before we took notice, says she, with the dimples all breaking out in her cheek.
And that was true as gospel. She thought everything Reuben done was just right, and he thought everything she done was just right. There want nobody else; the world was all Reuben n all Lovey to them. If you could have seen her when she was looking for him to come from Skowhegan! She used to watch at the attic window; and when she seen him at the foot of the hill, shed up like a squirrel, and run down the road without stopping for anything but to throw a shawl over her head. And Reuben would ketch her up as if she was a child, and scold her for not putting a hat on, and take her under his coat coming up the hill. They was a sight for the neighbors, I must confess, but it want one you could hardly disapprove of neither. Aunt Hitty said it was tempting Providence and couldnt last, and God would visit his wrath on em for making idols of sinful human flesh.
She was right one wayit didnt last; but nobody can tell me God was punishing of em for being too happy. I guess he aint got no objection to folks being happy here below, if they dont forget it aint the whole story.
Well, I must mark in a bud on Loveys stalk now, and Im going to make it of her babys long white cloak. I earned the money for it myself, making coats, and put four yards of the finest cashmere into it; for three years after little Jot was born I went over to Skowhegan to help Lovey through her time o trial. Time o trial! I thought I was happy, but I didnt know how to be as happy as Lovey did; I want made on that pattern.
When I first showed her the baby (it was a boy, same as mine), her eyes shone like two evening stars. She held up her weak arms, and gathered the little bundle o warm flannel into em; and when she got it close she shut her eyes and moved her lips, and I knew she was taking her lamb to the altar and offring it up as a sacrifice. Then Reuben come in. I seen him give one look at the two dark heads laying close together on the white piller, and then go down on his knees by the side of the bed. Twant no place for me; I went off, and left em together. We didnt mistrust it then, but they only had three days more of happiness, and Im glad I give em every minute.
The room grew dusky as twilight stole gently over the hills of Pleasant River. Priscillas lip trembled; Diademas tears fell thick and fast on the white rosebud, and she had to keep wiping her eyes as she followed the pattern.
I aint said as much as this about it for five years, she went on, with a tell-tale quiver in her voice, but now Ive got going, I cant stop. Ill have to get the weight out o my heart somehow.
Three days after I put Loveys baby into her arms the Lord called her home. When I prayed so hard for this little new life, Reuben, says she, holding the baby as if she could never let it go, I didnt think Id got to give up my own in place of it; but its the first fiery flood weve had, dear, and though it burns to my feet Ill tread it as brave as I know how.
She didnt speak a word after that; she just faded away like a snowdrop, hour by hour. And Reuben and I stared one another in the face as if we was dead instead of her, and we went about that house o mourning like sleep-walkers for days and days, not knowing whether we et or slept, or what we done.
As for the baby, the poor little mite didnt live many hours after its mother, and we buried em together. Reuben and I knew what Lovey would have liked. She gave her life for the babys, and it was a useless sacrifice, after all. No, it want neither; it couldnt have been! You neednt tell me Godll let such sacrifices as that come out useless! But anyhow, we had one coffin for em both, and I opened Loveys arms and laid the baby in em. When Reuben and I took our last look, we thought she seemed moren ever like Mary, the mother of Jesus. There never was another like her, and there never will be. Nonesuch, Reuben used to call her.
There was silence in the room, broken only by the ticking of the old clock and the tinkle of a distant cowbell. Priscilla made an impetuous movement, flung herself down by the basket of rags, and buried her head in Diademas gingham apron.
Dear Mrs. Bascom, dont cry. Im sorry, as the children say.
No, I wont moren a minute. Jot cant stand it to see me give way. You go and touch a match to the kitchen fire, so t the kettle will be boiling, and Ill have a minute to myself. I dont know what the neighbors would think to ketch me crying over my drawing-in frame; but the spells over now, or bout over, and when I can muster up courage Ill take the rest of the babys cloak and put a border of white everlastings round the outside of the rug. Itll always mean the babys birth and Loveys death to me; but the flowers will remind me its life everlasting for both of em, and so its the most comforting end I can think of.
It was indeed a beautiful rug when it was finished and laid in front of the sofa in the fore-room. Diadema was very choice of it. When company was expected, she removed it from its accustomed place, and spread it in a corner of the room where no profane foot could possibly tread on it. Unexpected callers were managed by a different method. If they seated themselves on the sofa, she would fear they did not set easy or rest comfortable there, and suggest their moving to the stuffed chair by the window. The neighbors thought this solicitude merely another sign of Diademas pison neatness, excusable in this case, as there was so much white in the new rug.
The fore-room blinds were ordinarily closed, and the chillness of death pervaded the sacred apartment; but on great occasions, when the sun was allowed to penetrate the thirty-two tiny panes of glass in each window, and a blaze was lighted in the fireplace, Miss Hollis would look in as she went upstairs, and muse a moment over the pathetic little romance of rags, the story of two lives worked into a bouquet of old-fashioned posies, whose gay tints were brought out by a setting of somber threads. Existence had gone so quietly in this remote corner of the world that all its important events, babyhood, childhood, betrothal, marriage, motherhood, with all their mysteries of love and life and death, were chronicled in this narrow space not two yards square.
Diadema came in behind the little school-teacher one afternoon.
I callate, she said, that being kep in a dark room, and never being tread on, it will last longer n I do. If it does, Priscilla, you know that white crape shawl of mine I wear to meetings hot Sundays: that would make a second row of everlastings round the border. You could piece out the linings good and smooth on the under side, draw in the white flowers, and fill em round with black to set em off. The rug would be hansomer than ever then, and the storywould be finished.