Not Quite Eighteen

"Not till father has returned thanks," said his mother, rebukingly. "You are glad enough to take the gifts of the Lord, Reuben. You should be equally ready to pay back the poor tribute of a decent gratitude."

Reuben sat abashed while Mr. Marsh uttered the customary words, which was rather a short prayer than a long grace. The boy did not dare to again allude to the candles, but stood looking sorry and shamefaced, till his mother, laying her hand indulgently on his shoulder, slipped the little candle in his fingers.

"Thee didn't mean it, dear, I know," she whispered. "It's natural enough that thee shouldst be impatient. Now take thy candle, and be off. Cynthia, Eunice, here are the other two, and remember, all of you, that not a word must be told of the stories when once the candles burn out. This is the test of obedience. Be good children, and I'll come up later to see that all is safe."

Mrs. Marsh was of Quaker stock, but she only reverted to the once familiar thee and thou at times when she felt particularly kind and tender. The children liked to have her do so. It meant that mother loved them more than usual.

The bedrooms over the kitchen, in which the children slept, were very plain, with painted floors and scant furniture; but they were used to them, and missed nothing. The moon was shining, so that little Eunice found no difficulty in undressing without a light. As soon as she was in bed, she called to the others, who were waiting in Reuben's room, "I'm all ready!"

A queer clicking noise followed. It was made by Reuben's striking the flint of the tinder-box. In another moment the first of the little candles was lighted. They fetched it in; and the others sat on the foot of the bed while Eunice, raised on her pillow, with red, excited cheeks, began: —

"I've remembered all about my story, and this is it: Once there was a Fairy. He was not a bad fairy, but a very good one. One day he broke his wing, and the Fairy King said he mustn't come to court any more till he got it mended. This was very hard, because glue and things like that don't stick to Fairies' wings, you know."

"Couldn't he have tied it up and boiled it in milk?" asked Cynthia, who had once seen a saucer so treated, with good effect.

"Why, Cynthia Marsh! Do you suppose Fairies like to have their wings boiled? I never! Of course they don't! Well, the poor Fairy did not know what to do. He hopped away, for he could not fly, and pretty soon he met an old woman.

"'Goody,' said he, 'can you tell me what will mend a Fairy's broken wing?'

"'Is it your wing that is broken?' asked the old woman.

"'Yes,' said the Fairy, speaking very sadly.

"'There is only one thing,' said the old woman. 'If you can find a girl who has never said a cross word in her life, and she will put the pieces together, and hold them tight, and say, "Ram shackla alla balla ba," three times, it will mend in a minute.'

"So the Fairy thanked her, and went his way, dragging the poor wing behind him. By and by he came to a wood, and there in front of a little house was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Her eyes were as blue as, as blue as – as the edges of mother's company saucers! And her hair, which was the color of gold, curled down to her feet.

"'A girl with hair and eyes like that couldn't say a cross word to save her life,' thought the Fairy. He was just going to speak to her. She couldn't see him, you know, because he was indivisible – "

"'Invisible,' you mean," interrupted Reuben.

"Oh, Reuben, don't stop her! See how the tallow is running down the side of the candle! She'll never have time to finish," put in Cynthia, anxiously.

"I meant 'invisible,' of course," went on Eunice, speaking fast. "Well, just then a woman came out of the house. It was the pretty girl's mother.

"'Estella,' she said, 'I want you to go for the cows, because your father is sick.'

"'Oh, bother!' said the pretty girl. 'I don't want to! I hate going for cows. I wish father wouldn't go and get sick!' Just think of a girl's speaking like that to her mother! And the Fairy sighed, for he thought, 'My wing won't get mended here,' and he hopped away.

"By and by he came to a house in another wood, and there was another girl. She wasn't pretty at all. She had short stubby brown hair like Cynthia's, and a turn-up nose like me, and her freckles were as big as Reuben's, but she looked nice and kind.

"The Fairy didn't have much hope that a girl who was as homely as that could mend wings. But while he was waiting, another woman came out. It was the turned-up-nose girl's mother, and she said, 'I want you to go for the cows to-night, because your father has broken his leg.'

"And the girl smiled just as sweet, and she said, 'Yes, mother, I'll be glad to go.'

"Then the Fairy rejoiced, and he came forward and said – Oh, dear!"

This was not what the Fairy said, but what Eunice said; for at that moment the little candle went out.

"Well, I am glad you got as far as you did," whispered Cynthia, "for I guess the turned-up-nose girl could mend the wing. Now, Reuby, if you'll go into your room I'll not be two minutes. And then you can light my candle."

In less than two minutes all was ready. This time there were two little girls in bed, and Reuben sat alone at the foot, ready to listen.

"My story," began Cynthia, "is about that girl in the window-pane in the ell. Her name was Mercy Marsh, and she lived in this house."

"Is it true?" asked Eunice.

"No, it's made up, but I'm going to make believe that it's true. She slept in the corn chamber, – it was a bedroom then, – and she had that yellow painted bedstead of Hepzibah's.

"There was a hiding-place under the floor of the room. It was made to put things in when Indians came, or the English, – money and spoons, and things like that.

"One day when Mercy was spinning under the big elm, a man came running down the road. He was a young man, and very handsome, and he had on a sort of uniform.

"'Hide me!' he cried. 'They will kill me if they catch me. Hide me, quick!'

"'Who will kill you?' asked Mercy.

"Then the young man told her that he had accidentally shot a man who was out hunting with him, and that the man's brothers, who were very bad people, had sworn to have his blood.

"Then Mercy took his hand, and led him quickly up to her room, and lifted the cover of the hiding-place, and told him to get in. And he got in, but first he said, 'Fair maiden, if I come out alive, I shall have somewhat to say to thee.' And Mercy blushed."

"What did he mean?" asked Eunice, innocently.

"Oh, just love-making and nonsense!" put in Reuben. "Hurry up, Cynthia! Come to the fighting. The candle's all but burned out."

"There isn't going to be any fighting," returned Cynthia. "Well, Mercy pulled the bedside carpet over the cover, and she set that red candle-stand on one corner of it and a chair on the other corner, and went back to her spinning. She had hardly begun before there was a rustling in the bushes, and two men with guns in their hands came out.

"'Which way did he go?' they shouted.

"'Who?' she said, and she looked up so quietly that they never suspected her.

"'Has no one gone by?' they asked her.

"'No one,' she said; and you know this wasn't a lie, for the young man did not go by. He stopped!

"'There is the back door open,' she went on, 'and you are welcome to search, if you desire it. My father is away, but he will be here soon.' She said this because she feared the men.

"So the men searched, but they found nothing, and Mercy's room looked so neat and peaceful that they did not like to disturb it, and just looked in at the door. And when they were gone, Mercy went up and raised the cover, and the youth said that he loved her, and that if the Lord willed, he – "

Pop! The second candle went suddenly out.

"It's a shame!" cried Reuben, dancing with vexation. "It seems as if the blamed things knew when we most wanted them to last!"

"Oh, Reuben! don't say 'blamed.'"

"I forgot. Well, blame-worthy, then. There's no harm in that."

"We shall never know if the young man married Mercy," said little Eunice, lamentably.