University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.
MIKE AND SALLY.

I have spoken of Sally, but have said nothing of Mike,
whom, of all my father's hired men, I liked the best. He
it was who made the best cornstalk fiddles, and whittled
out the shrillest whistles with which to drive grandma
“ravin' distracted.” He, too, it was who, on cold
winter mornings, carried Lizzie to school in his arms, making
me forget how my fingers ached, by telling some
exploit of his school days.

I do not wonder that Sally liked him, and I always had an
idea how that liking would end, but did not think it would
be so soon. Consequently, I suspected nothing when Sally's
white dress was bleached on the grass in the clothes'
yard, for nearly a week. One day Billy came to me with
a face full of wonder, saying he had just overheard Mike
tell one of the men that he and Sally were going to be
married in a few weeks.

I knew now what all that bleaching was for, and why
Sally bought so much cotton lace of pedlars. I was in
ecstacies, too, for I had never seen any one married, but
regretted the circumstance, whatever it might have been,

which prevented me from being present at mother's marriage.
Like many other children, I had been deceived
into the belief that the marriage ceremony consisted
mainly in leaping the broomstick, and, by myself, I had
frequently tried the experiment, delighted to find that I
could jump it at almost any distance from the ground;
but I had some misgivings as to Sally's ability to clear
the stick, for she was rather clumsy; however, I should
see the fun, for they were to be married at our house.

A week before the time appointed, mother was taken
very ill, which made it necessary that the wedding should
be postponed, or take place somewhere else. To the first,
Mike would not hear, and as good old Parson S—,
whose sermons were never more than two hours long,
came regularly every Sunday night to preach in the school-house,
Mike proposed that they be married there. Sally
did not like this exactly, but grandmother, who now
ruled the household, sait it was just the thing, and accordingly
it took place there.

The house was filled full, and those who could not obtain
seats took their station near the windows. Our party
was early, but I was three times compelled to relinquish
my seat in favor of more distinguished persons, and I began
to think that if any one was obliged to go home for
want of room, it would be me; but I resolutely determined
not to go. I'd climb the chestnut tree first! At last I
was squeezed on a high desk between two old ladies,
wearing two old black bonnets, their breath sufficiently
tinctured with tobacco smoke to be very disagreeable to
me, whose olfactories chanced to be rather aristocratic
than otherwise.

To my horror, Father S— concluded to give us the
sermon before he did the bride. He was afraid some of
his audience would leave. Accordingly there ensued a

prayer half an hour long, after which eight verses of a
long metre psalm were sung to the tune of Windham.
By this time I gave a slight sign to the two old ladies
that I would like to move, but they merely shook their
two black bonnets at me, telling me, in fierce whispers,
that “I must n't stir in meetin'.” Must n't stir! I wonder
how I could stir, squeezed in as I was, unless they
chose to let me. So I sat bolt upright, looking straight
ahead at a point where the tips of my red shoes were visible,
for my feet were sticking straight out.

All at once, my attention was drawn to a spider on the
wall, who was laying a net for a fly, and in watching his
maneuvers I forgot the lapse of time, until Father S—
had passed his sixthly and seventhly, and was driving furiously
away at the eighthly. By this time the spider
had caught the fly, whose cries sounded to me like the
waters of the saw-mill; the tips of my red shoes looked
like the red berries which grew near the mine; the two
old ladies at my side were transformed into two tall black
walnut trees, while I seemed to be sliding down hill.

At this juncture, one of the old ladies moved away
from me a foot at least, (she could have done so before,
had she chosen to,) and I was precipitated off from the
bench, striking my head on the sharp corner of a seat below.
It was a dreadful blow which I received, making
the blood gush from my nostrils. My loud screams
brought matters to a focus, and the sermon to an end.
My grandmother and one of the old ladies took me and
the water pail out doors, where I was literally deluged;
at the same time they called me “Poor girl! Poor Mollie!
Little dear, &c.”

But while they were attending to my bumped head,
Mike and Sally were married, and I did n't see it after all!
'Twas too bad!