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Aunt Kipp
By
Louisa May Alcott
"Children and fools speak the truth."=
;
I
"What's that sigh for, Polly dear?"
"I'm tired, mother, tired of working and waiting. If I'm ever going to
have any fun, I want it now while I can enjoy it."
"You shouldn't wait another hour if I cou=
ld
have my way; but you know how helpless I am;" and poor Mrs. Snow sighed
dolefully, as she glanced about the dingy room and pretty Mary turning her =
faded
gown for the second time.
"If Aunt Kipp would give us the money she=
is
always talking about, instead of waiting till she dies, we should be so
comfortable. She is a dreadful bore, for she lives in such terror of droppi=
ng
dead with her heart-complaint that she doesn't take any pleasure in life
herself or let any one else; so the sooner she goes the better for all of
us," said Polly, in a desperate tone; for things looked very black to =
her
just then.
"My dear, don't say that," began her
mother, mildly shocked; but a bluff little voice broke in with the forcible
remark,--
"She's everlastingly telling me never to = put off till to-morrow what can be done to-day; next time she comes I'll remind= her of that, and ask her, if she is going to die, why she doesn't do it?"<= o:p>
"Toady! you're a wicked, disrespectful bo=
y;
never let me hear you say such a thing again about your dear Aunt Kipp.&quo=
t;
"She isn't dear! You know we all hate her,
and you are more afraid of her than you are of spiders,--so now."
The young personage whose proper name had been
corrupted into Toady, was a small boy of ten or eleven, apple-cheeked,
round-eyed, and curly-headed; arrayed in well-worn, gray knickerbockers,
profusely adorned with paint, glue, and shreds of cotton. Perched on a high
stool, at an isolated table in a state of chaos, he was absorbed in making a
boat, entirely oblivious of the racking tooth-ache which had been his excuse
for staying from school. As cool, saucy, hard-handed, and soft-hearted a li=
ttle
specimen of young America was Toady as you would care to see; a tyrant at h=
ome,
a rebel at school, a sworn foe to law, order, and Aunt Kipp. This young per=
son
was regarded as a reprobate by all but his mother, sister, and sister's
sweetheart, Van Bahr Lamb. Having been, through much anguish of flesh and
spirit, taught that lying was a deadly sin, Toady rushed to the other extre=
me,
and bolted out the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, at all
times and places, with a startling abruptness that brought wrath and dismay=
upon
his friends and relatives.
"It's wicked to fib; you've whipped that =
into
me and you can't rub it out," he was wont to say, with vivid recollect=
ion
of the past tingling in the chubby portions of his frame.
"Mind your chips, Toady, and take care wh=
at
you say to Aunt Kipp, or you'll be as poor as a little rat all the days of =
your
life," said Polly, warningly.
"I don't want her old money, and I'll tell
her so if she bothers me about it. I shall go into business with Van and ta=
ke
care of the whole lot; so don't you preach, Polly," returned Toady, wi=
th
as much dignity as was compatible with a great dab of glue on the end of his
snub nose.
"Mother, did aunt say anything about comi=
ng
this week?" asked Polly, after a pause of intense thought over a bread=
th
with three darns, two spots, and a burn.
"Yes; she wrote that she was too feeble to
come at present, as she had such dreadful palpitations she didn't dare stir
from her room. So we are quite safe for the next week at least, and--bless =
my
soul, there she is now!"
Mrs. Snow clasped her hands with a gesture of
dismay, and sat as if transfixed by the spectacle of a ponderous lady, in an
awe-inspiring bonnet, who came walking slowly down the street. Polly gave a
groan, and pulled a bright ribbon from her hair. Toady muttered, "Oh,
bother!" and vainly attempted to polish up his countenance with a
fragmentary pocket-handkerchief.
"Nothing but salt fish for dinner,"
wailed Mrs. Snow, as the shadow of the coming event fell upon her.
"Van will make a fool of himself, and ruin
everything," sighed Polly, glancing at the ring on her finger.
"I know she'll kiss me; she never will le=
t a
fellow alone," growled Toady, scowling darkly.
The garden gate clashed, dust flew from the door-mat, a heavy step echoed in the hall, an imperious voice called "Sophy!" and Aunt Kipp entered with a flourish of trumpets, for T= oady blew a blast through his fingers which made the bows totter on her bonnet.<= o:p>
"My dear aunt, I'm very glad to see you," murmured Mrs. Snow, advancing with a smile of welcome; for thoug= h as weak as water gruel, she was as kind-hearted a little woman as ever lived.<= o:p>
"What a fib that was!" said Toady, s=
otto
voce.
"We were just saying we were afraid you
wouldn't"--began Mary, when a warning, "Mind now, Polly," ca=
used
her to stop short and busy herself with the newcomer's bag and umbrella.
"I changed my mind. Theodore, come and ki=
ss
me," answered Aunt Kipp, briefly.
"Yes'm," was the plaintive reply, an=
d,
closing his eyes, Toady awaited his fate with fortitude.
But the dreaded salute did not come, for Aunt =
Kipp
exclaimed in alarm,--
"Mercy on us! has the boy got the
plague?"
"No'm, it's paint, and dirt, and glue, an=
d it
won't come off," said Toady, stroking his variegated countenance with
grateful admiration for the stains that saved him.
"Go and wash this moment, sir. Thank Heav=
en,
I've got no boys," cried Aunt Kipp. as if boys were some virulent dise=
ase
which she had narrowly escaped.
With a hasty peck at the lips of her two elder
relatives, the old lady seated herself, and slowly removed the awful bonnet,
which in shape and hue much resembled a hearse hung with black crape.
"I'm glad you are better," said Mary,
reverently receiving the funereal head-gear.
"I'm not better," cut in Aunt Kipp.
"I'm worse, much worse; my days are numbered; I stand on the brink of =
the
tomb, and may drop at any moment."
Toady's face was a study, as he glanced up at =
the
old lady's florid countenance, down at the floor, as if in search of the
above-mentioned "brink," and looked unaffectedly anxious to see h=
er
drop. "Why don't you, then?" was on his lips; but a frown from Po=
lly
restrained him, and he sat himself down on the rug to contemplate the corpu=
lent
victim.
"Have a cup of tea, aunt?" said Mrs.
Snow.
"I will."
"Lie down and rest a little," sugges=
ted
Polly.
"I won't."
"Can we do anything for you?" said b=
oth.
"Take my things away, and have dinner
early."
Both departed to perform these behests, and,
leaning back in her chair, Aunt Kipp reposed.
"I say, what's a bore?" asked Toady =
from
the rug, where he sat rocking meditatively to and fro, holding on by his
shoe-strings.
"It's a kind of a pig, very fierce, and f=
olks
are afraid of 'em," said Aunt Kipp, whose knowledge of Natural History=
was
limited.
"Good for Polly! so you are!" sung o=
ut
the boy, with the hearty child's laugh so pleasant to most ears.
"What do you mean, sir?" demanded the
old lady, irefully poking at him with her umbrella.
"Why, Polly said you were a bore,"
explained Toady, with artless frankness. "You are fat, you know, and
fierce sometimes, and folks are afraid of you. Good, wasn't it?"
"Very! Mary is a nice, grateful, respectf=
ul,
loving niece, and I shan't forget her, she may depend on that," and Au=
nt
Kipp laughed grimly.
"May she? well, that's jolly now. She was
afraid you wouldn't give her the money; so I'll tell her it's all right;&qu=
ot;
and innocent Toady nodded approvingly.
"Oh, she expects some of my money, does
she?"
"Course she does; ain't you always saying
you'll remember us in your will, because father was your favorite nephew, a=
nd
all that? I'll tell you a secret, if you won't let Polly know I spoke first.
You'll find it out to-night, for you 'd see Van and she were sweethearts in=
a
minute."
"Sweethearts?" cried Aunt Kipp, turn=
ing
red in the face.
"Yes'm. Van settled it last week, and Pol=
ly's
been so happy ever since. Mother likes it, and I like it, for I'm fond of V=
an,
though I do call him Baa-baa, because he looks like a sheep. We all like it,
and we 'd all say so, if we were not afraid of you. Mother and Polly, I mea=
n;
of course we men don't mind, but we don't want a fuss. You won't make one, =
will
you, now?"
Anything more expressive of brotherly good-wil=
l,
persuasive frankness, and a placid consciousness of having "fixed
it," than Toady's dirty little face, it would be hard to find. Aunt Ki=
pp
eyed him so fiercely that even before she spoke a dim suspicion that someth=
ing
was wrong began to dawn on his too-confiding soul.
"I don't like it, and I'll put a stop to =
it.
I won't have any ridiculous baa-baas in my family. If Mary counts on my mon=
ey
to begin housekeeping with, she'll find herself mistaken; for not one penny
shall she have, married or single, and you may tell her so."
Toady was so taken aback by this explosion tha=
t he
let go his shoe-strings, fell over with a crash, and lay flat, with shovel =
and
tongs spread upon him like a pall. In rushed Mrs. Snow and Polly, to find t=
he
boy's spirits quite quenched, for once, and Aunt Kipp in a towering passion=
. It
all came out in one overwhelming flood of words, and Toady fled from the st=
orm
to wander round the house, a prey to the deepest remorse. The meekness of t=
hat
boy at dinner-time was so angelic that Mrs. Snow would have feared speedy
translation for him, if she had not been very angry. Polly's red eyes, and =
Aunt
Kipp's griffinesque expression of countenance, weighed upon his soul so
heavily, that even roly-poly pudding failed to assuage his trouble, and, ta=
king
his mother into the china-closet, he anxiously inquired "if it was all=
up
with Polly?"
"I'm afraid so, for aunt vows she will ma=
ke a
new will to-morrow, and leave every penny to the Charitable Rag-bag
Society," sighed Mrs. Snow.
"I didn't mean to do it, I truly didn't! I thought I'd just 'give her a hint,' as you say. She looked all right, and l= aughed when I told her about being a bore, and I thought she liked it. If she was a man, I'd thrash her for making Polly cry;" and Toady shook his fist at Aunt Kipp's umbrella, which was an immense relief to his perturbed spirit.<= o:p>
"Bless the boy! I do believe he would!&qu=
ot;
cried Mrs. Snow, watching the little turkey-cock with maternal pride. "=
;You
can't do that: so just be careful and not make any more mischief, dear.&quo=
t;
"I'll try, mother; but I'm always getting
into scrapes with Aunt Kipp. She's worse than measles, any day,--such an old
aggrawater! Van's coming this afternoon, won't he make her pleasant
again?"
"Oh, dear, no! He will probably make thin=
gs
ten times worse, he's so bashful and queer. I'm afraid our last chance is g=
one,
deary, and we must rub along as we have done."
One sniff of emotion burst from Toady, and for=
a
moment he laid his head in the knife-tray, overcome with disappointment and
regret. But scorning to yield to unmanly tears, he was soon himself again.
Thrusting his beloved jackknife, with three blades and a file, into Polly's
hand, he whispered, brokenly,--
"Keep it forever 'n' ever; I'm awful
sorry!" Then, feeling that the magnitude of this sacrifice atoned for
everything, he went to watch for Van,--the forlorn hope to which he now clu=
ng.
II
"Sophy, I'm surprised at your want of
judgment. Do you really mean to let your girl marry this Lamb? Why, the man=
's a
fool!" began Aunt Kipp, after dinner, by way of opening a pleasant
conversation with her relatives.
"Dear me, aunt! how can you know that, wh=
en
you never saw him?" mildly returned Mrs. Snow.
"I've heard of him, and that's enough for=
me.
I've a deal of penetration in judging character, and I tell you Van Bahr La=
mb
is a fool."
The amiable old lady thought this would rouse
Polly, against whom her anger still burned hotly. But Polly also possessed
penetration; and, well knowing that contradiction would delight Aunt Kipp, =
she
completely took the wind out of her sails, by coolly remarking,--
"I like fools."
"Bless my heart! what does the girl
mean?" ejaculated Aunt Kipp.
"Just what I say. If Van is a fool, I pre=
fer
simpletons to wiseacres. I know he is shy and awkward, and does absurd thin=
gs
now and then. But I also know that he has the kindest heart that ever was; =
is
unselfish, faithful and loving; that he took good care of his old parents t=
ill
they died, and never thought of himself while they needed him. He loves me
dearly; will wait for me a dozen years, if I say so, and work all his days =
to
make me happy. He's a help and comfort to mother, a good friend to Toady, a=
nd I
love and respect and am proud of him, though you do say he is a fool,"
cried Polly heartily.
"And you insist on marrying him?"
demanded Aunt Kipp.
"Yes, I do."
"Then I wish a carriage immediately,"
was the somewhat irrelevant reply.
"Why, aunt, you don't mean to go so
soon?" cried Mrs. Snow, with a reproachful glance at the rebellious Po=
lly.
"Far from it. I wish to see Judge Banks a=
bout
altering my will," was the awful answer.
Polly's face fell; her mother gave a despairing
sigh; Toady, who had hovered about the door, uttered a suppressed whistle of
dismay; and Mrs. Kipp looked about her with vengeful satisfaction.
"Get the big carryall and old Bob, so the=
boy
can drive, and all of you come; the trip will do you good."
It was like Aunt Kipp to invite her poor relat=
ions
to go and "nip their own noses off," as she elegantly expressed i=
t.
It was a party of pleasure that just suited her, for all the fun was on her
side. She grew affable at once, was quite pressing in her invitation, regre=
tted
that Sophy was too busy to go, praised Polly's hat; and professed herself q=
uite
satisfied with "that dear boy" for a driver. The "dear boy&q=
uot;
distorted his young countenance frightfully behind her back, but found a ba=
lm
for every wound in the delight of being commander of the expedition.
The big carryall appeared, and, with much crea=
king
and swaying Mrs. Kipp was got into the back seat, where the big bonnet gloo=
med
like a thunder-cloud. Polly, in a high state of indignation, which only made
her look ten times prettier, sat in front with Toady, who was a sight to se=
e as
he drove off with his short legs planted against the boot, his elbows squar=
ed,
and the big whip scientifically cracking now and then. Away they went, leav=
ing
poor Mrs. Snow to bewail herself dismally after she had smiled and nodded t=
hem
out of sight.
"Don't go over any bridges or railroad
crossings or by any saw-mills," said the old lady, as if the town coul=
d be
suddenly remodelled to suit her taste.
"Yes'm," returned Toady, with a crack
which would have done honor to a French postilion.
It was a fine day, and the young people would =
have
enjoyed the ride in spite of the breakers ahead, if Aunt Kipp hadn't
entertained the girl with a glowing account of the splendors of her own
wedding, and aggravated the boy by frequent pokes and directions in the art=
of
driving, of which she was of course, profoundly ignorant. Polly couldn't
restrain a tear or two, in thinking of her own poor little prospects, and T=
oady
was goaded to desperation.
"I'll give her a regular shaking up; it'll
make her hold her tongue and do her good," he said to himself, as a st=
ony
hill sloped temptingly before him.
A sly chuck, and some mysterious manoeuvre with
the reins, and Bob started off at a brisk trot, as if he objected to the old
lady as much as her mischievous little nephew.
"Hold him in! Keep a taut rein! Lord 'a
mercy, he's running away!" shrieked Aunt Kipp, or tried to shriek, for=
the
bouncing and bumping jerked the words out of her mouth with ludicrous
incoherency.
"I am holding him, but he will go," =
said
Toady, with a wicked triumph in his eye as he glanced back at Polly.
The next minute the words were quite true; for=
, as
he spoke, two or three distracted hens flew squalling over the wall and
scattered about, under, over, and before the horse, as only distracted hens
could do. It was too much for Bob's nerves; and, taking matters into his own
hands, or feet, rather, he broke into a run, and rattled the old lady over =
the
stones with a velocity which left her speechless.
Polly laughed, and Toady chuckled, as they cau=
ght
glimpses of the awful bonnet vibrating wildly in the background, and felt t=
he
frantic clutchings of the old lady's hands. But both grew sober as a shrill
car-whistle sounded not far off; and Bob, as if possessed by an evil spirit,
turned suddenly into the road that led to the railroad crossing.
"That will do, Toady; now pull up, for we
can't get over in time," said Polly, glancing anxiously toward the rap=
idly
approaching puffs of white smoke.
"I can't, Polly,--I really can't," c=
ried
the boy, tugging with all his might, and beginning to look scared.
Polly lent her aid; but Bob scarcely seemed to
feel it, for he had been a racer once, and when his blood was up he was har=
d to
handle. His own good sense might have checked him, if Aunt Kipp hadn't
unfortunately recovered her voice at this crisis, and uttered a succession =
of
the shrillest screams that ever saluted mortal ears. With a snort and a bou=
nd
Bob dashed straight on toward the crossing, as the train appeared round the
bend.
"Let me out! Let me out! Jump! Jump!"
shrieked Aunt Kipp, thrusting her head out of the window, while she fumbled
madly for the door-handle.
"O Toady, save us! save us!" gasped
Polly, losing her presence of mind, and dropping the reins to cling to her
brother, with a woman's instinctive faith in the stronger sex.
But Toady held on manfully, though his arms we=
re
nearly pulled off, for "Never say die," was his motto, and the pl=
ucky
little lad wouldn't show fear before the women.
"Don't howl; we'll do it! Hi, Bob!" =
and
with a savage slash of the whip, an exciting cry, a terrible reeling and
rattling, they did do it; for Bob cleared the track at a breakneck pace, ju=
st
in time for the train to sweep swiftly by behind them.
Aunt Kipp dropped in a heap, Polly looked up at
her brother, with a look which he never forgot; and Toady tried to say,
stoutly, "It's all right!" with lips that were white and dry in s=
pite
of himself.
"We shall smash up at the bridge," h=
e muttered,
as they tore through the town, where every one obligingly shouted, waved th=
eir
hats, and danced about on the sidewalks, doing nothing but add to Bob's fri=
ght
and the party's danger. But Toady was wrong,--they did not smash up at the
bridge; for, before they reached the perilous spot, one man had the sense to
fly straight at the horse's head and hold on till the momentary check enabl=
ed
others to lend a hand.
The instant they were safe, Polly, like a regu=
lar
heroine, threw herself into the arms of her dishevelled preserver, who of
course was Van, and would have refreshed herself with hysterics if the sigh=
t of
Toady hadn't steadied her. The boy sat as stiff and rigid as a wooden figure
till they took the reins from him; then all the strength seemed to go out of
him, and he leaned against his sister, as white and trembling as she,
whispering with an irrepressible sob,--
"O Polly, wasn't it horrid? Tell mother I
stood by you like a man. Do tell her that!"
If any one had had time or heart to laugh, they
certainly would have done it when, after much groping, heaving, and hoistin=
g.
Mrs. Kipp was extricated and restored to consciousness; for a more ludicrou=
sly
deplorable spectacle was seldom seen. Quite unhurt, though much shaken, the=
old
lady insisted on believing herself to be dying, and kept the town in a ferm=
ent
till three doctors had pronounced her perfectly well able to go home. Then =
the
perversity of her nature induced her to comply, that she might have the
satisfaction of dying on the way, and proving herself in the right.
Unfortunately she did not expire, but, having
safely arrived, went to bed in high dudgeon, and led Polly and her mother a=
sad
life of it for two weary days. Having heard of Toady's gallant behavior, she
solemnly ordered him up to receive her blessing. But the sight of Aunt Kipp=
's
rubicund visage, surrounded by the stiff frills of an immense nightcap, cau=
sed
the irreverent boy to explode with laughter in his handkerchief, and to be
hustled away by his mother before Aunt Kipp discovered the true cause of his
convulsed appearance.
"Ah! poor dear, his feelings are too much=
for
him. He sees my doom in my face, and is overcome by what you refuse to beli=
eve.
I shan't forget that boy's devotion. Now leave me to the meditations befitt=
ing
these solemn hours."
Mrs. Snow retired, and Aunt Kipp tried to slee=
p;
but the murmur of voices, and the sound of stifled laughter in the next room
disturbed her repose.
"They are rejoicing over my approaching e=
nd,
knowing that I haven't changed my will. Mercenary creatures, don't exult too
soon! there's time yet," she muttered; and presently, unable to control
her curiosity, she crept out of bed to listen and peep through the keyhole.=
Van Bahr Lamb did look rather like a sheep. He=
had
a blond curly head, a long face, pale, mild eyes, a plaintive voice, and a
general expression of innocent timidity strongly suggestive of animated mut=
ton.
But Baa-baa was a "trump," as Toady emphatically declared, and th=
ough
every one laughed at him, every one liked him, and that is more than can be
said of many saints and sages. He adored Polly, was dutifully kind to her
mother, and had stood by T. Snow, Jr., in many an hour of tribulation with
fraternal fidelity. Though he had long blushed, sighed, and cast sheep's ey=
es
at the idol of his affections, only till lately had he dared to bleat forth=
his
passion. Polly loved him because she couldn't help it; but she was proud, a=
nd
wouldn't marry till Aunt Kipp's money was hers, or at least a sure prospect=
of
it; and now even the prospect of a prospect was destroyed by that irrepress=
ible
Toady. They were talking of this as the old lady suspected, and of course t=
he
following conversation afforded her intense satisfaction.
"It's a shame to torment us as she does,
knowing how poor we are and how happy a little of her money would make us. =
I'm
tired of being a slave to a cruel old woman just because she's rich. If it =
was
not for mother, I declare I'd wash my hands of her entirely, and do the bes=
t I
could for myself."
"Hooray for Polly! I always said let her
money go and be jolly without it," cried Toady, who, in his character =
of
wounded hero, reposed with a lordly air on the sofa, enjoying the fragrance=
of
the opodeldoc with which his strained wrists were bandaged.
"It's on your account, children, that I b=
ear
with aunt's temper as I do. I don't want anything for myself, but I really
think she owes it to your dear father, who was devoted to her while he live=
d,
to provide for his children when he couldn't;" after which remarkably =
spirited
speech for her, Mrs. Snow dropped a tear, and stitched away on a small
trouser-leg which was suffering from a complicated compound fracture.
"Don't you worry about me, mother; I'll t=
ake
care of myself and you too," remarked Toady, with the cheery belief in=
impossibilities
which makes youth so charming.
"Now, Van, tell us what to do, for things
have come to such a pass that we must either break away altogether or be
galley-slaves as long as Aunt Kipp lives," said Polly, who was a good =
deal
excited about the matter.
"Well, really, my dear, I don't know,&quo=
t;
hesitated Van, who did know what he wanted, but thought it might be selfish=
to
urge it. "Have you tried to soften your aunt's heart?" he asked,
after a moment's meditation.
"Good gracious, Van, she hasn't got
any," cried Polly, who firmly believed it.
"It's hossified," thoughtfully remar= ked Toady, quite unconscious of any approach to a joke till every one giggled.<= o:p>
"You've had hossification enough for one
while, my lad," laughed Van. "Well, Polly, if the old lady has no
heart you'd better let her go, for people without hearts are not worth
much."
"That's a beautiful remark, Van, and a wi=
se
one. I just wish she could hear you make it, for she called you a fool,&quo=
t;
said Polly, irefully.
"Did she? Well, I don't mind, I'm used to
it," returned Van, placidly; and so he was, for Polly called him a goo=
se
every day of her life, and he enjoyed it immensely.
"Then you think, dear, if we stopped worr=
ying
about aunt and her money, and worked instead of waiting, that we shouldn't =
be
any poorer and might be a great deal happier than we are now?" asked
Polly, making a pretty little tableau as she put her hand through Van's arm=
and
looked up at him with as much love, respect, and reliance as if he had been=
six
feet tall, with the face of an Apollo and the manners of a Chesterfield.
"Yes, my dear, I do, for it has troubled =
me a
good deal to see you so badgered by that very uncomfortable old lady.
Independence is a very nice thing, and poverty isn't half as bad as this so=
rt
of slavery. But you are not going to be poor, nor worry about anything. We'=
ll
just be married and take mother and Toady home and be as jolly as grigs, and
never think of Mrs. K. again,--unless she loses her fortune, or gets sick, =
or
comes to grief in any way. We'd lend her a hand then, wouldn't we, Polly?&q=
uot;
and Van's mild face was pleasant to behold as he made the kindly propositio=
n.
"Well, we'd think of it," said Polly,
trying not to relent, but feeling that she was going very fast.
"Let's do it!" cried Toady, fired wi=
th
the thought of privy conspiracy and rebellion. "Mother would be so
comfortable with Polly, and I'd help Van in the store, when I've learned th=
at
confounded multiplication table," he added with a groan; "and if =
Aunt
Kipp comes a visiting, we'll just say 'Not at home,' and let her trot off
again."
"It sounds very nice, but aunt will be
dreadfully offended and I don't wish to be ungrateful," said Mrs. Snow,
brightening visibly.
"There's no ingratitude about it," c=
ried
Van. "She might have done everything to make you love, and respect, and
admire her, and been a happy, useful, motherly, old soul; but she didn't ch=
oose
to, and now she must take the consequences. No one cares for her, because s=
he
cares for nobody; her money's the plague of her life, and not a single heart
will ache when she dies."
"Poor Aunt Kipp!" said Polly, softly=
.
Mrs. Snow echoed the words, and for a moment a=
ll
thought pitifully of the woman whose life had given so little happiness, wh=
ose
age had won so little reverence, and whose death would cause so little regr=
et.
Even Toady had a kind thought for her, as he broke the silence, saying
soberly,--
"You'd better put tails on my jackets,
mother; then the next time we get run away with, Aunt Kipp will have someth=
ing
to hold on by."
It was impossible to help laughing at the
recollection of the old lady clutching at the boy till he had hardly a butt=
on
left, and at the paternal air with which he now proposed a much-desired cha=
nge
of costume, as if intent on Aunt Kipp's future accommodation.
Under cover of the laugh, the old lady stole b=
ack
to bed, wide awake, and with subjects enough to meditate upon now. The shak=
ing
up had certainly done her good, for somehow the few virtues she possessed c=
ame
to the surface, and the mental shower-bath just received had produced a
salutary change. Polly wouldn't have doubted her aunt's possession of a hea=
rt,
if she could have known the pain and loneliness that made it ache, as the o=
ld
woman crept away; and Toady wouldn't have laughed if he had seen the tears =
on
the face, between the big frills, as Aunt Kipp laid it on the pillow,
muttering, drearily,--
"I might have been a happy, useful woman,=
but
I didn't choose to, and now it's too late."
It was too late to be all she might have been,=
for
the work of seventy selfish years couldn't be undone in a minute. But with
regret, rose the sincere wish to earn a little love before the end came, and
the old perversity gave a relish to the reformation, for even while she
resolved to do the just and generous thing, she said to herself,--
"They say I've got no heart; I'll show 'em
that I have: they don't want my money; I'll make 'em take it: they turn the=
ir
backs on me; I'll just render myself so useful and agreeable that they can'=
t do
without me."
III
Aunt Kipp sat bolt upright in the parlor, hemm=
ing
a small handkerchief, adorned with a red ship, surrounded by a border of gr=
een
monkeys. Toady suspected that this elegant article of dress was intended for
him, and yearned to possess it; so, taking advantage of his mother's and
Polly's absence, he strolled into the room, and, seating himself on a high,
hard chair, folded his hands, crossed his legs, and asked for a story with =
the
thirsting-for-knowledge air which little boys wear in the moral story-books=
.
Now Aunt Kipp had one soft place in her heart,
though it was partially ossified, as she very truly declared, and Toady was
enshrined therein. She thought there never was such a child, and loved him =
as
she had done his father before him, though the rack wouldn't have forced he=
r to
confess it. She scolded, snubbed, and predicted he'd come to a bad end in
public; but she forgave his naughtiest pranks, always brought him something
when she came, and privately intended to make his future comfortable with h=
alf
of her fortune. There was a dash and daring, a generosity and integrity, ab=
out
the little fellow, that charmed her. Sophy was weak and low-spirited, Polly
pretty and headstrong, and Aunt Kipp didn't think much of either of them; b=
ut
Toady defied, distracted, and delighted her, and to Toady she clung, as the=
one
sunshiny thing in her sour, selfish old age.
When he made his demure request, she looked at
him, and her eyes began to twinkle, for the child's purpose was plainly see=
n in
the loving glances cast upon the pictorial pocket-handkerchief.
"A story? Yes, I'll tell you one about a
little boy who had a kind old--ahem!--grandma. She was rich, and hadn't mad=
e up
her mind who she'd leave her money to. She was fond of the boy,--a deal fon=
der
than he deserved,--for he was as mischievous a monkey as any that ever live=
d in
a tree, with a curly tail. He put pepper in her snuff-box,"--here Toady
turned scarlett,--"he cut up her bestt frisette to make a mane for his
rocking-horse,"--Toady opened his mouth impulsively, but shut it again
without betraying himself--"he repeated rude things to her, and called=
her
'an old aggrewater,'"--here Toady wriggled in his chair, and gave a li=
ttle
gasp.
"If you are tired I won't go on,"
observed Aunt Kipp, mildly.
"I'm not tired, 'm; it's a very interesti= ng story," replied Toady, with a gravity that nearly upset the old lady.<= o:p>
"Well, in spite of all this, that kind, g=
ood,
forgiving grandma left that bad boy twenty thousand dollars when she died. =
What
do you think of that?" asked Aunt Kipp, pausing suddenly with her sharp
eye on him.
"I--I think she was a regular dear,"
cried Toady, holding on to the chair with both hands, as if that climax rat=
her
took him off his legs.
"And what did the boy do about it?"
continued Aunt Kipp, curiously.
"He bought a velocipede, and gave his sis=
ter
half, and paid his mother's rent, and put a splendid marble cherakin over t=
he
old lady, and had a jolly good time, and--"
"What in the world is a cherakin?"
laughed Aunt Kipp, as Toady paused for breath.
"Why, don't you know? It's a angel crying=
, or
pointing up, or flapping his wings. They have them over graves; and I'll gi=
ve
you the biggest one I can find when you die. But I'm not in a very great hu=
rry
to have you."
"Thankee, dear; I'm in no hurry, myself. =
But,
Toady, the boy did wrong in giving his sister half; she didn't deserve any;=
and
the grandma left word she wasn't to have a penny of it."
"Really?" cried the boy, with a trou=
bled
face.
"Yes, really. If he gave her any he lost =
it
all; the old lady said so. Now what do you think?" asked Aunt Kipp, who
found it impossible to pardon Polly,--perhaps because she was young, and
pretty, and much beloved.
Toady's eyes kindled, and his red cheeks grew
redder still, as he cried out defiantly,--
"I think she was a selfish pig,--don't
you?"
"No, I don't, sir; and I'm sure that litt=
le
boy wasn't such a fool as to lose the money. He minded his grandma's wishes,
and kept it all."
"No, he didn't," roared Toady, tumbl=
ing
off his chair in great excitement. "He just threw it out a winder, and
smashed the old cherakin all to bits."
Aunt Kipp dropped her work with a shrill squea=
k,
for she thought the boy was dangerous, as he stood before her, sparring awa=
y at
nothing as the only vent for his indignation.
"It isn't an interesting story," he
cried; "and I won't hear any more; and I won't have your money if I ma=
yn't
go halves with Polly; and I'll work to earn more than that, and we'll all be
jolly together, and you may give your twenty thousand to the old rag-bags, =
and
so I tell you, Aunt Kipp."
"Why, Toady, my boy, what's the matter?&q=
uot;
cried a mild voice at the door, as young Lamb came trotting up to the rescu=
e.
"Never you mind, Baa-baa; I shan't do it;=
and
it's a mean shame Polly can't have half; then she could marry you and be so
happy," blubbered Toady, running to try to hide his tears of
disappointment in the coat-skirts of his friend.
"Mr. Lamb, I suppose you are that misguid=
ed
young man?" said Aunt Kipp, as if it was a personal insult to herself.=
"Van Bahr Lamb, ma'am, if you please. Yes,
thank you," murmured Baa-Baa, bowing, blushing, and rumpling his curly
fleece in bashful trepidation.
"Don't thank me," cried the old lady.
"I'm not going to give you anything,--far from it. I object to you
altogether. What business have you to come courting my niece?"
"Because I love her, ma'am," returned
Van, with unexpected spirit.
"No, you don't; you want her money, or ra=
ther
my money. She depends on it; but you'll both be disappointed, for she won't
have a penny of it," cried Aunt Kipp, who, in spite of her good
resolutions, found it impossible to be amiable all at once.
"I'm glad of it!" burst out Van,
indignant at her accusation. "I didn't want Polly for the money; I alw=
ays
doubted if she got it; and I never wished her to make herself a slave to
anybody. I've got enough for all, if we're careful; and when my share of the
Van Bahr property comes, we shall live in clover."
"What's that? What property are you talki=
ng
of?" demanded Aunt Kipp, pricking up her ears.
"The great Van Bahr estate, ma'am. There =
has
been a long lawsuit about it, but it's nearly settled, and there isn't much
doubt that we shall get it. I am the last of our branch, and my share will =
be a
large one."
"Oh, indeed! I wish you joy," said A=
unt
Kipp, with sudden affability; for she adored wealth, like a few other perso=
ns
in the world. "But suppose you don't get it, how then?"
"Then I shall try to be contented with my
salary of two thousand, and make Polly as happy as I can. Money doesn't alw=
ays
make people happy or agreeable, I find." And Van looked at Aunt Kipp i=
n a
way that would have made her hair stand erect if she had possessed any. She
stared at him a moment, then, obeying one of the odd whims that made an
irascible weathercock of her, she said, abruptly,--
"If you had capital should you go into
business for yourself, Mr. Lambkin?"
"Yes, ma'am, at once," replied Van,
promptly.
"Suppose you lost the Van Bahr money, and
some one offered you a tidy little sum to start with, would you take it?&qu=
ot;
"It would depend upon who made the offer,
ma'am," said Van, looking more like a sheep than ever, as he stood sta=
ring
in blank surprise.
"Suppose it was me, wouldn't you take
it?" asked Aunt Kipp, blandly, for the new fancy pleased her.
"No, thank you, ma'am," said Van,
decidedly.
"And why not, pray?" cried the old l=
ady,
with a shrillness that made him jump, and Toady back to the door precipitat=
ely.
"Because, if you'll excuse my speaking
plainly, I think you owe anything you may have to spare to your niece, Mrs.=
Snow;"
and, having freed his mind, Van joined Toady, ready to fly if necessary.
"You're an idiot, sir," began Aunt K=
ipp,
in a rage again.
"Thank you, ma'am." And Van actually
laughed and bowed in return for the compliment.
"Hold your tongue, sir," snapped the=
old
lady. "You're a fool and Sophy is another. She's no strength of mind, =
no
sense about anything; and would make ducks and drakes of my money in less t=
han
no time if I gave it to her, as I've thought of doing."
"Mrs. Kipp, you forget who you are speaki=
ng
to. Mrs. Snow's sons love and respect her if you don't, and they won't hear
anything untrue or unkind said of a good woman, a devoted mother, and an al=
most
friendless widow."
Van wasn't a dignified man at all, but as he s=
aid
that with a sudden flash of his mild eyes, there was something in his face =
and
manner that daunted Aunt Kipp more than the small fist belligerently shaken=
at
her from behind the sofa. The poor old soul was cross, and worried, and ash=
amed
of herself, and being as feeble-minded as Sophy in many respects, she sudde=
nly
burst into tears, and, covering her face with the gay handkerchief, cried a=
s if
bent on floating the red ship in a sea of salt water without delay.
"I'm a poor, lonely, abused old woman,&qu=
ot;
she moaned, with a green monkey at each eye. "No one loves me, or minds
me, or thanks me when I want to help 'em. My money's only a worryment and a
burden, and I don't know what to do with it, for people I don't want to lea=
ve
it to ought to have it, and people I do like won't take it. Oh, deary me, w=
hat
shall I do! what shall I do!"
"Shall I tell you, ma'am?" asked Van,
gently, for, though she was a very provoking old lady, he pitied and wished=
to
help her.
A nod and a gurgle seemed to give consent, and,
boldly advancing, Van said, with blush and a stammer, but a very hearty
voice,--
"I think, ma'am, if you'd do the right th=
ing
with your money you'd be at ease and find it saved a deal of worry all roun=
d.
Give it to Mrs. Snow; she deserves it, poor lady, for she's had a hard time,
and done her duty faithfully. Don't wait till you are--that is, till you--w=
ell,
till you in point of fact die, ma'am. Give it now, and enjoy the happiness =
it
will make. Give it kindly, let them see you're glad to do it, and I am sure
you'll find them grateful; I'm sure you won't be lonely any more, or feel t=
hat
you are not loved and thanked. Try it, ma'am, just try it," cried Van,
getting excited by the picture he drew. "And I give you my word I'll d=
o my
best to respect and love you like a son, ma'am."
He knew that he was promising a great deal, but
for Polly's sake he felt that he could make even that Herculean effort. Aunt
Kipp was surprised and touched; but the contrary old lady couldn't make up =
her
mind to yield so soon, and wouldn't have done it if Toady hadn't taken her =
by
storm. Having a truly masculine horror of tears, a very tender heart under =
his
tailless jacket, and being much "tumbled up and down in his own mind&q=
uot;
by the events of the week, the poor little lad felt nerved to attempt any n=
ovel
enterprise, even that of voluntarily embracing Aunt Kipp. First a grimy lit=
tle
hand came on her shoulder, as she sat sniffing behind the handkerchief; the=
n,
peeping out, she saw an apple-cheeked face very near her own, with eyes ful=
l of
pity, penitence, and affection; and then she heard a choky little voice say
earnestly,--
"Don't cry, aunty; I'm sorry I was rude.
Please be good to Mother and Polly, and I'll love and take care of you, and
stand by you all my life. Yes, I'll--I'll kiss you, I will, by George!"
And with one promiscuous plunge the Spartan boy cast himself into her arms.=
That finished Aunt Kipp; she hugged him dose, =
and
cried out with a salute that went off like a pistol-shot,--
"Oh, my dear, my dear! this is better tha=
n a
dozen cherakins!"
When Toady emerged, somewhat flushed and tumbl=
ed,
Mrs. Snow, Polly, and Van were looking on with faces full of wonder, doubt,=
and
satisfaction. To be an object of interest was agreeable to Aunt Kipp; and, =
as
her old heart was really softened, she met them with a gracious smile, and
extended the olive-branch generally.
"Sophy, I shall give my money to you at o=
nce
and entirely, only asking that you'll let me stay with you when Polly's gon=
e.
I'll do my best to be agreeable, and you'll bear with me because I'm a cran=
ky,
solitary old woman, and I loved your husband."
Mrs. Snow hugged her on the spot, and gushed, =
of
course, murmuring thanks, welcomes, and promises in one grateful burst.
"Polly, I forgive you; I consent to your
marriage, and will provide your wedding finery. Mr. Lamb, you are not a foo=
l,
but a very excellent young man. I thank you for saving my life, and I wish =
you
well with all my heart. You needn't say anything. I'm far from strong, and =
all
this agitation is shortening my life."
Polly and Van shook her hand heartily, and bea=
med
upon each other like a pair of infatuated turtle-doves with good prospects.=
"Toady, you are as near an angel as a boy=
can
be. Put a name to whatever you most wish for in the world, and it's
yours," said Aunt Kipp, dramatically waving the rest away.
With his short legs wide apart, his hands behi=
nd
him, and his rosy face as round and radiant as a rising sun, Toady stood be=
fore
the fire surveying the scene with the air of a man who has successfully car=
ried
through a difficult and dangerous undertaking, and wasn't proud. His face
brightened, then fell, as he heaved a sigh, and answered, with a shake of h=
is
curly head,--
"You can't give me what I want most. There
are three things, and I've got to wait for them all."
"Gracious me, what are they?" cried =
the
old lady, good-naturedly, for she felt better already.
"A mustache, a beaver, and a
sweetheart," answered Toady, with his eyes fixed wistfully on Baa-baa,=
who
possessed all these blessings, and was particularly enjoying the latter at =
that
moment.
How Aunt Kipp did laugh at this early budding =
of
romance in her pet! And all the rest joined her, for Toady's sentimental air
was irresistible.
"You precocious chick! I dare say you will
have them all before we know where we are. Never mind, deary; you shall hav=
e my
little watch, and the silver-headed cane with a boar's head on it,"
answered the old lady, in high good-humor. "You needn't blush, dear; I
don't bear malice; so let's forget and forgive. I shall settle things to-mo=
rrow,
and have a free mind. You are welcome to my money, and I hope I shall live =
to
see you all enjoy it."
So she did; for she lived to see Sophy plump,
cheery, and care-free; Polly surrounded by a flock of Lambkins; Van in
possession of a generous slice of the Van Bahr fortune; Toady revelling in =
the
objects of his desire; and, best of all, she lived to find that it is never=
too
late to make oneself useful, happy, and beloved.