A Little Girl in Old Boston, Amanda Minnie Douglas [black authors fiction .TXT] 📗

take up his body! Are they doing it now in a dry time?" Aunt Priscilla asked sarcastically.

"They don't now, but it was said they did it several times, and it always rained."

"They wan't good orthodox Christians. No one ever heard of such a thing."

"But our orthodox Christians believed in witches--even the descendants of this very John Cotton who came over to escape the Lords Bishops," said Warren.

"And, unlike Mr. Blacksone, stayed and had a hard time with the Lords Brethren," said Mr. Leverett. "I hardly know which was the worst"--smiling with a glint of humor. "And you more than half believe in witches yourself, Aunt Priscilla."

"I am sure I have reason to. Grandmother Parker was a good woman if ever there was one, and she _was_ bewitched. And would it have said in the Bible--'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,' if there had not been any?"

"They were telling stories at Madam Royall's one day. And sometime Uncle Winthrop is going to take us all to Marblehead, where Mammy Redd lived. Eudora said this:


"'Old Mammy Redd
Of Marblehead
Sweet milk could turn
To mold in churn.'


And Uncle Winthrop has a big book about them."

"He had better take you to Salem. That was the very hot-bed of it all," said Warren.

Doris came around to Aunt Priscilla. "Did your grandmother really see a witch?" she asked in a serious tone.

"Well, perhaps she didn't exactly _see_ it. But she was living at Salem and had a queer neighbor. One day they had some words, and when grandmother went to churn her milk turned all moldy and spoiled the butter. Grandmother didn't even dare feed it to the pigs. So it went on several times. Then another neighbor said to her, 'The next time it happens you just throw a dipper-full over the back log.' And so grandmother did. It made an awful smell and smoke. Then she washed out her churn and put it away. She was barely through when someone came running in, and said, 'Have you any sweet oil, Mrs. Parker? Hetty Lane set herself afire cleaning the cinders out of her oven, and she's dreadfully burned. Come right over.' Grandmother was a little afraid, but she went, and, sure enough, it had happened just the moment she threw the milk in the fire. One side of her was burned, and one hand. And although the neighbors suspected her, they were all very kind to her while she was ill. But grandmother had no more trouble after that, and it was said Hetty Lane never bewitched anybody again."

"It's something like the kelpies and brownies Barby used to tell about that were in England long time ago," said Doris, big-eyed. "They hid tools and ate up the food and spoiled the milk and the bread, turning it to stone. They went away--perhaps someone burned them up."

Aunt Priscilla gave her sniff. To be compared with such childish stuff!

"It was very curious," said Mrs. Leverett. "I have always been glad I was not alive at that time. Sometimes unaccountable things happen."

"Did you ever see a truly witch yourself, Aunt Priscilla?" asked the child.

"No, I never did," she answered honestly.

"Then I guess they did go with the fairies and kelpies. Could I tell your story over sometime?" she inquired eagerly.

Telling ghost stories and witch stories was quite an amusement at that period.

"Why, yes--if you want to." She was rather pleased to have it go to the Royalls'.

"The last stitch," and Betty folded up her work. "Come, Doris, say good-night, and let us go to bed."

Doris put a little kiss on Aunt Priscilla's wrinkled hand.


CHAPTER XV

A FREEDOM SUIT

Aunt Priscilla had a dozen changes of mind as to whether to go to Cousin Adams' or not. But Betty insisted. She trimmed her cap and altered the sleeves of her best black silk gown. The elderly people were wearing "leg-o'-mutton" sleeves now, while the young people had great puffs. Long straight Puritan sleeves were hardly considered stylish. And then Cousin Win sent the chaise up for her.

Mrs. March, Cary's aunt, had come up to Boston to make a little visit. Mr. March was a ship builder at Plymouth. She was quite anxious to see this cousin that Cary had talked about so much, and she was almost jealous lest he should be crowded out of his rightful place. She had no children of her own, but her husband had four when they were married. So a kind of motherly sympathy still went out to Cary.

Betty came over in the morning. She and Miss Recompense were always very friendly. They talked of jells and jams and preserves; it was too early for any fresh fruit except strawberries, and Cato always took a good deal of pains to have these of the very nicest.

The wide fireplace was filled in with green boughs and the shining leaves of "bread and butter." The rugs were taken up and the floor had a coat of polish. The parlor was wide open, arrayed in the stately furnishings of a century ago. There were two Louis XIV. chairs that had really come from France. There were some square, heavy pieces of furniture that we should call Eastlake now. And the extravagant thing was a Brussels carpet with a scroll centerpiece and a border in arabesque.

The guests began to come at two. Miss Recompense and Betty had been arranging the long table with its thick basket-work cloth that was fragrant with sweet scents. Betty wore her blue and white silk, as that had met with some mishaps at Hartford. Miss Recompense had on a brown silk with a choice bit of thread lace, and a thread lace cap. Many of the elderly society ladies wore immense headgears like turbans, with sometimes one or two marabou feathers, which were considered extremely elegant. But Miss Recompense kept to her small rather plain cap, and looked very ladylike, quite fit to do the honors of the house.

Some of the cousins had driven in from Cambridge and South Boston. Miss Cragie, who admired her second-cousin Adams very much, and it was said would not have been averse to a marriage with him, came over from the old house that had once been Washington's headquarters and was to be more famous still as the home of one of America's finest poets. She took a great interest in Cary and made him a welcome guest.

We should call it a kind of lawn party now. The guests flitted around the garden and lawn, inspected the promising fruit trees, and were enthusiastic over the roses. Then they wandered over to the Mall and discussed the impending changes in Boston, and said, as people nearly always do, that it would be ruined by improvements. It was sacrilegious to take away Beacon Hill. It was absurd to think of filling in the flats! Who would want to live on made ground? And where were all the people to come from to build houses on these wonderful streets? Why, it was simply ridiculous!

There were some young men who felt rather awkward and kept in a little knot with Cary. There were a few young girls who envied Betty Leverett her at-homeness, and the fact that she had spent a winter in Hartford. Croquet would have been a boon then, to make a breach in the walls of deadly reserve.

Elderly men smoked, walked about, and talked of the prospect of war. Most of them had high hopes of President Madison just now.

Doris was a point of interest for everybody. Her charming simplicity went to all hearts. Betty had dressed her hair a dozen different ways, but found none so pretty as tying part of the curls on top with a ribbon. She had grown quite a little taller, but was still slim and fair.

Miss Cragie took a great fancy to her and said she must come and spend the day with her and visit the notable points of Cambridge. And next year Cary would graduate, and she supposed they would have a grand time.

The supper was quite imposing. Cato's nephew, a tidy young colored lad, came from one of the inns, and acquitted himself with superior elegance. It was indeed a feast, enlivened with bright conversation. People expected to talk then, not look bored and indifferent. Each one brought something besides appetite to the feast.

Afterward they went out on the porch and sang, the ice being broken between the younger part of the company. There were some amusing patriotic songs with choruses that inspired even the older people. "Hail, Columbia!" was greeted with applause.

There were sentimental songs as well, Scotch and old English ballads. Two of Cary's friends sang "Queen Mary's Escape" with a great deal of spirit. Then Uncle Win asked Doris if she could not sing a little French song that she sang for him quite often, and that was set to a very touching melody.

She hung back and colored up, but she did want to please Uncle Win. She was standing beside him, so she straightened up and took a step out, and holding his hand sang with a grace that went to each heart. But she hid herself behind Uncle Win's shoulder when the compliments began. Cary came around, and said "She need not be afraid; it was just beautiful!"

After that the company began to disperse. Everybody said "It always was delightful to come over here," and the women wondered how it happened that such an attractive man as Mr. Winthrop Adams had not married again and had someone to entertain regularly.

There was a magnificent full moon, and the air was delicious with fragrance. One after another drove away, or taking the arm of a companion uttered a cordial good-night. Mr. Adams had sent some elderly friends home in a carriage, and begged the Leveretts to wait until it came back.

Warren had not been very intimate with the young collegian; their walks in life lay quite far apart. But Cary came and joined them as they were all out on the porch.

"I hope you had a pleasant time," he began. "If it had not been a family party I should have asked the club to come over and sing some of the college songs. Arthur Sprague has a fine voice. And you sing very well, Warren."

"I have been in a singing class this winter, I like music so much."

"You ought to hear half a dozen of our fellows together! But this little bird warbled melodiously," and he put his arm over the shoulder of Doris. "I did not know she could move an audience so deeply."

"I was so frightened at first," began Doris with a long breath. "I don't mind singing for Uncle Win, and one day when there were some guests Madam Royall asked me to sing a little French song she had known in her youth. Isn't it queer a song should last so long?"

"The fine songs ought to last forever. I hope we will have some national songs presently besides the ridiculous 'Yankee Doodle.' It doesn't seem quite so bad when it is played by the band and men are marching to it."

Cary straightened himself up. Being slender he often allowed his shoulders to droop.

"Now you look like a soldier," exclaimed Warren.

"I'd like to be one, first-rate. I'd leave college now and go in the Navy if there was another boy to