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upon the bowed branches; turning each into a tear of liquid opal。

The birds hopped on the prone magnificence; and eyed timorously

a strange object underneath。



There had been one swift; pitiless; merciful stroke!

The monarch of the meadow would never again feel the magic

thrill of the sap in its veins; nor the bursting of brown bud

into green leaf。



The birds would build their nests and sing their idyls in other boughs。

The 〃time of pleasure and love〃 was over with the nooning tree; over too;

with him who slept beneath; for under its fallen branches; with the light

of a great peace in his upturned face; lay the man from Tennessee。











THE FORE…ROOM RUG。





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 husband's mother;

old Mrs。 Bascom; had sat for thirty years; applying a still more

powerful intellectual telescope to the doings of her neighbors。

Diadema's 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 Hollis's 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 rugs;red; 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 daughter's 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 warrior's 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 captain's 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 cap'n 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 aesthete 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 tortoise…shell 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 all;

the 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 〃reg'lar riddlin' sieves。〃  She had brought the tattered

pile down in to 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 wouldn't 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 ain't told you my plan; Miss Hollis;

and there ain't many I shall tell; but this rug is going to be

a kind of a hist'ry of my life and Lovey's 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 sha'n't

cheat me out of 'em altogether。  If I can't look at 'em wet Sundays;

and shake 'em out; and have a good cry over 'em; I'll make 'em

up into a kind of dumb show that will mean something to me;

if it don't to anybody else。



〃We was the youngest of thirteen; Lovey and I;

and we was twins。  There 's never been more 'n 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 wa'n't a mite alike。

There was an old lady come to our house once that used to say;

'There's sister Nabby; now:  she 'n' I ain't no more alike

'n if we wa'n't two; she 's jest as diff'rent as I am t'

other way。'  Well; I know what I want to put into my rag story;

Miss Hollis; but I don't hardly know how to begin。〃



Priscilla dropped her needle; and bent over the frame with interest。



〃A spray of two roses in the centre;there 's the beginning;

why; don't you see; dear Mrs。 Bascom?〃



〃Course I do;〃 said Diadema; diving to the bottom of

the dish…pan。 〃I've got my start now; and don't you say a word

for a minute。 The two roses grow out of one stalk; they'll be

Lovey and me; though I'm consid'able more like a potato blossom。

The stalk 's 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 mother's 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 he 'd 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 didn't 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 she 'd 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 she

'd counted us straight; but she went round with a candle to make sure。

Now; Mr。 Granger had a head as red as a shumac bush; and when she

carried the candle close to the beds to take another tally;

there was thirteen children; sure enough; but if there wa'n't 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 joiner's bench。




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