the village watch-tower-第12节

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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。