Mildred Keith - Complete 7 Book Collection. Finley Martha
world worth livin' fur!" he sighed. "But then I'm not the feller to give up and die! I'll fight it out an' get over it yet."
He picked up the letter and thrust it into his bosom, straightened himself, went down into the smithy, and fell to work at his anvil, dealing vigorous blows as if thus he would drive away the demon of despair.
He ate little at dinner, and conscious that Rhoda Jane's sharp eyes were upon him, scarcely lifted his from his plate.
He hurried back to his work. She followed him the next minute.
"So she's give you the mitten?"
"Who told you so?" he asked defiantly, standing before her with arms folded and head erect, but reddening to his very hair.
"Humph! I ain't blind, and anybody could see it with half an eye. Well, never you mind! you're a sight too good fur her, the—"
"Don't you call her no names now! I ain't agoin' to have it. It's me that isn't fit to hold a candle to the like o' her, and had ought to had sense enough to know it.
"Well, I didn't boast like Ransquattle; that's one small bit o' comfort as things has turned out," he concluded moodily, picking up his hammer.
"How'd he take his mitten?" laughed Rhoda Jane. "Wouldn't I ha' liked to seen him puttin' it on!"
"Take it! you never see anybody look so cheap as Nick when Mocker asked him 'tother day when the weddin' was to come off. Then the fellers run him ('twas at Chetwood and Mocker's store; I'd run in on a arrant fur mother) and he growed thunderin' mad, and begun callin' her names till Ormsby was ready to put him out—if he hadn't walked off hisself—and I could 'a horse-whipped him with a right good will."
"Well, don't you go and break your heart fur her."
"I ain't a goin' to. There now, you'd better leave; fur I've a job on hand."
The building lot selected by the Keiths was bought and fenced in almost immediately, and men set to work at digging the cellar, and then putting up the walls of the new house.
By dint of energetic oversight and urging on of the workmen, Mr. Keith succeeded in having it roofed in before the first heavy fall of snow; so that some advance could be made with the laying of floors, lathing, etc., during the winter.
When spring came things took a fresh start; more men were employed and every effort put forth by the owner, to have the building hurried on to completion.
Each member of the family was deeply interested; the children made daily journeys to the spot and all Rupert's leisure time was devoted to digging, planting and other improvements of the grounds.
The boy was full of energy and fond of life in the open air. His garden did him credit, supplying nearly all the vegetables wanted for family use.
With some assistance from older heads and hands, he terraced the bank overlooking the river, made steps down to the water's edge, where was a fine spring, and built a small arbor and a spring-house.
The new dwelling would be hardly so large as the one they were to leave for it, until an addition should be built, but of more sightly appearance and far more conveniently arranged. Besides it was their own, and who does not know the charm that ownership gives?
They were very impatient to get into it; and there was great rejoicing among the children when at last the announcement was made that it was fit for occupancy.
It was their father who brought the news into their reading and sewing circle, one bright warm afternoon early in July.
"When shall we move, wife?" he asked.
"Oh to-night, to-night! please, mother say to-night," cried several little voices.
Mrs. Keith laughed. "It is no such quick work, children."
"But we might bedin," said Don. "I'll take dis tat and tum back aden for other tings," hugging up a large white and yellow cat that had been a petted member of the household for some months past.
"H'm!" said Cyril, "Toy can take his own self; he's got more feet to run with than any of the rest."
"And he always runs alongside wherever we goes," put in Fan. "Mother can we help move?"
The question was unheard and remained unanswered; for the reason that the older people were talking busily among themselves.
"I think we may begin to-morrow," Mrs. Keith was saying; "Celestia Ann is through with her week's washing and ironing, and I'll set her and Mrs. Rood both to cleaning the new house, while we pack up things here."
"Oh, goodie, goodie! mother, mayn't we all help!" chorused the children.
"We will see, dears; perhaps there may be some little things that you can carry; your own toys you shall carry at any-rate, if you wish. Yes, Stuart, I have had the parlor and one bedroom of the new house cleaned already."
"O mother, can't we have this carpet taken up immediately—I mean go to work and take it up—and have it shaken and carried right over there? and perhaps we could get it down this afternoon, you and auntie and I; and have the furniture of that room carried right into it to-morrow morning, the first thing."
"A capital idea," her father said; "then we will have one room comfortable there before all are torn up here. Come, children, scamper out of the way! Wife; where's the tack hammer?"
"Oh, can't we help?" pleaded the children, "Where shall we go?"
"No, not with this. Go anywhere out of the way."
The order was obeyed somewhat reluctantly, all going out to the adjoining room. Zillah and Ada stopped there and each took a book; the younger three went up stairs.
"Let's pack up our things," said Cyril.
"What'll we pack 'em in?" queried Don.
"We'll see."
The boys got out their stores of marbles, balls, bits of twine, a broken knife or two, a few fish hooks and a set of Jackstraws their father had made for them.
Fan brought out her treasures also, which consisted of several dolls and their wardrobes, a picture book and some badly battered and bruised dishes; the remains of a once highly prized metal toy tea set.
A packing box in one corner of the large second story room was where the playthings of the little ones were always kept when not in use. "A place for everything and everything in its place," being one of the cardinal rules of the household.
"Can we take 'em over there now?" asked Fan, as she gathered hers pell mell into her apron.
"No, of course not," said Cyril. "Didn't you hear mother say we couldn't begin moving till to-morrow?"
"Then what did we get 'em out for?"
"To pack 'em up and have 'em ready to take over in the morning."
"What'll we pack 'em in?" reiterated Don.
"Let's look round for a box 'bout the right size," said Cyril. "Course we can't carry them in the big board one. It's too heavy."
A good deal of rummaging followed upon that; first in the outer room, then in the other, occupied by Aunt Wealthy and Mildred.
Finally they came upon a pasteboard box standing on Mildred's writing table, which Cyril pronounced just the thing.
"But maybe Milly won't like us to take it," objected Fan, as he unceremoniously emptied the contents upon the table.
"Oh, she won't care; there's nothing in it but old papers and things writed all over. She's done with them and she'll be puttin' them in the fire next thing. You know she always likes to burn up old rubbish."
That last statement was certainly according to fact, and Fan made no further objection.
Don suggested asking leave, but Cyril overruled that also.
"No; they're all too busy down there; we mustn't bother," he said, walking off with his prize.
One paper had